I'm not the only one in my reflection.

Part thirty-one

Deciding to take a taxi to Sidney's friend's house and clear her head during this time and at the same time think about what she was going to say at all, Oliver's niece drove too fast for her taste. And this is considering that it had already darkened a little outside and the time was tending to sunset.

To her even greater surprise, Dewey's ex-wife let her in without further ado, briefly introducing the girl and her new muscular boyfriend. After asking the "muscular guy" to make them some tea, Weathers looked over her glasses at the niece of her longtime best friend.

— So, you're here to...

— To talk. You know, about everything. About your book, about Dewey, about Amber's shot, and about how you blame me for his death.

The writer sighed heavily, as if she was already tired of the conversation, and placed her laptop on her lap, idly flipping through pages and clicking the mouse wheel. It was as if she wasn't even talking to anyone.

— Okay, I'll start. As for Amber and Dewey, I can apologize if it makes you feel better. I'm sorry that I reacted in time and fell to the floor, and the bullet that was meant for me hit Dewey, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. — The brunette's voice was slightly hoarse, but her words were clearly filled with sarcasm. – Is that what you wanted to hear? For me to acknowledge some of my guilt? I understand that you're in pain, but you're taking it out on me, and that's not right.

The writer glared at Katherine, ignoring the man who had placed a tray with two cups of hot tea and a bowl of sweets and waffles on the table.

— You've portrayed me in a terrible light in your book, you know. You didn't just hint, you flat-out told the reader that I purposely arranged for the bullet meant for me to hit Dewey and kill him, because I'm supposedly a crazy bitch. Or maybe I was jealous of Sidney because, again, I'm supposedly a crazy bitch.

The former Mrs. Riley at least had the decency to look a little guilty, but still not taking her eyes off her laptop screen.

— It was probably useless to begin with. I should do to you what I did to Sidney. Just let it go and ignore it. — Said Macher sharply, still not getting any reaction from her godmother's good friend. She stood up abruptly and, taking a deep sip of her warm tea, she headed for the door, ignoring the background noise of Gale's new boyfriend talking on the phone.

— Katherine, wait. There's something I need to tell you about Leslie. — The woman finally showed signs of life, but it was too late. The dark-haired woman was already angry and refused to stop on principle.

The girl grabbed the doorknob, ready to give up on the idea of making contact with this woman, just as she had given up on Prescott, and she opened the door and walked out. She stomped down the stairs with fury and seemed ready to step outside when she heard several loud gunshots.

Turning around, feeling her heart beating more actively in her chest, Sydney's niece rushed up the stairs, jumping two or even three steps at once. As she opened the front door, she saw Ghostface looming over Weathers, holding a shard of glass in his hand.

— Hey, Dickface! — Leslie's daughter shouted, throwing an already open small knife at the attacker's head without hesitation, which didn't do much to help, but at least distracted his attention from the wounded woman lying there.

Seeing the gun, apparently wounded by the journalist, the brunette slides across the floor to the firearm, dodging the attack of the Ghost-costumed man who ran up to her. Grabbing the gun, she immediately pulls the trigger, firing a bullet somewhere in the direction of the attacker. She didn't do it with the intention of hitting and killing, but rather to intimidate.

And it worked. The former redhead shot after the fleeing Ghostface, not knowing exactly where he was running to, too busy with the bleeding writer.

After letting go of the gun for just a second, Katherine examines her aunt's friend's body and, noticing only two wounds, she takes off her shirt, tears it into two pieces, and applies them to Gale's shoulder and leg, pressing down on them in a panic, unsure of what to do in such a situation.

— He didn't get me. — Weathers croaks, placing her bloodied hands on the shirt covering her stomach, pressing down on it to help stop the bleeding.

— Gale, look at me, don't close your eyes, okay? I've already called an ambulance and the police, they're already eating, you can't die. — The brunette begged, without realizing or realizing that her voice sounded completely tearful and pleading.

The journalist lost her breath for only a few seconds, but during those seconds, the young girl managed to panic of gigantic proportions. She tried to stop the bleeding while keeping an eye on her back, making sure that Ghostface didn't jump out of nowhere and stab her between the shoulder blades.