A year ago Woodsboro resident Maureen Prescott was brutally murdered, now Katherine must go through all the pain and heartbreak again as it seems history is going to repeat itself.
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"How does it feel to almost be brutally murdered?"
"I don't know...
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A nicely dressed man and woman pull up to a luxury house; they look very well dressed and talk about their days. They find the front door of their home a jar and cautiously walk in.
They see the carnage around them; everything was broken or askew. "Jesus.." the man says, glancing around at all the damage.
"What is it?" The woman asks, still not having seen the state of her house, "Where's Casey?" she asks, panic-stricken looking for her only child.
She runs to the kitchen and sees a popcorn packet on fire. "Casey? Casey?" She screams, but there was no answer; the home was empty other than themselves.
In a split second, they're both terrified, thinking about what could have happened and where their daughter had disappeared to, the man begins searching the house frantically.
The woman is hysterical. "Where is she?" she screams at her husband, who is pushing her in the direction of the phone.
"Call the police," he tells her sternly.
The woman moves to the phone in the foyer and picks it up. There is no dial tone; the man is still trying to find his daughter "Casey? Where are you, honey?" he sees his wife standing still with the phone in her hands. "Call the police, goddammit."
The woman puts the phone to her ear and hears the softest, faintest voice 'help me...' it was her daughter, Casey, her baby. "Oh my god. Casey? Baby?" The woman asks softly, not believing her ears.
Her husband returns to the foyer finding his wife clinging to the phone. "I can hear her. Oh, Mother of God, I can hear her," she screams hysterically, waving the phone.
The husband grabs hold of his wife. "Get in the car and drive down to the MacKenzie's," he says, swallowing hard.
His wife shakes her head. "No, not my baby," she cries softly in defeat.
The woman walks out of the door with the phone clutched to her chest until she looks up and screams wildly; the father rushes out the door to find his wife on her knees, bent over sobbing.
His eyes move beyond to a tree in the front yard; his stomach fails him as he sees the single, most horrifying sight he'll ever see.
The image of his only daughter as she hangs from their big oak tree, strung up dead with her stomach ripped open and her insides spilling to the floor.
🔪
I sighed, flicking through the channels on my TV, and looked at the phone next to me, debating whether or not to call Casey. We only talked to each other 20 minutes ago.
Sighing heavily, I picked up the phone and jumped when I heard a scream through the wall, it was Sidney. Grabbing my baseball bat, I pulled open the door that connects our rooms, "come on fucker let's go!" I call swinging my bat blindly.
