Downpour started in the early evening and continued on throughout the night, a heavy pelting of water that thundered against rooftops and drowned out the sound of all else.
You stared through the glass of the window, your eyes boring no emotion other than blank as you watch the endless droplets of rain run down from the comfortable warmth of your shared bedroom.
Not for the first time, you were alone, letting memories flash in your mind of everything that had happened so far, your mind racing with all the things you needed answers on.
You wanted to know who the caller was that managed to instil enough fear into you that you didn't get any more shut eye that night, making you wait until the sun rose.
You didn't waver your gaze from the TV that as always showed some news reporter repeating the same shit you already knew and displaying the same gruesome images you've already seen in person.
And then there was a wrath you didn't even know you were capable of feeling when you thought of Gale Weathers.
Gale. Fucking. Weathers.
You made a fist at your side, white-knuckling your own fingers.
Gale, the woman who set you up to have some interview with the man your dead friend claimed responsible for the murder on her mother.
Gale, the woman who wrote a fucking book about the most traumatizing experience of your life.
You screwed your eyes shut when you feel sudden tears slip past your lashes.
"(Y/N)?"
A gentle voice jerked you out of your depressed state. You rolled over to your side to see Hallie pushing open the door before closing it behind her, staring at you with mild worry. "Are you okay? You don't look... Well."
"I'm good," you said in a voice that sounded completely vacant, at the same time swallowing the lump forming in your throat and wiping the wetness off of your face.
She gace you another one of those 'I call your bullshit' looks and without invitation, sat down on the bed next to you.
"I'm your friend, (Y/N). You can talk to me," she spoke softly.
Your heart felt as if was made out of cement. It was rare to see Hallie this serious and it was even more rare that you let it all out to her.
At least an hour passed before you finished explaining everything troubling your mind, your nightmares, the phone calls, the things you have seen...
You let Hallie rub soothing circles over your back.
"We'll change the number first thing in the morning," Hallie promised, keeping a convicting and caring tone in her voice as she ducked her face down to catch your eyesight.
You creases your brows, keeping your eyes rooted to the floor. "It's not gonna work, Hallie. It's not gonna stop, it never will..."
You appreciated your friend being there for you, trying to comfort you in every way she could but it wouldn't change anything and it made you miss not having a special someone holding you.
You missed Derek. You wanted to go up to him and beg him to forgive you, but you needed to let him go for the time being.
It was the only way you could protect him because everyone close to you ended up in the same way.
Six feet under.
"This is gonna end sooner or later," Hallie gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before getting to her feet and hitting the remote to switch off the TV.
"How many more people are going to die before they will?" You wondered aloud, sitting up straight to rest your elbows on your knees.
A brick of foreboding dread fell inside you and onto your stomach.
People were messed up. There would always be evil in this world and that's exactly what these murderers were.
The epitome of evil.
You didn't utter another word for the rest of the night.
-
The next day had been the complete opposite of the one before. It was a beautiful day with a mild breeze and cloudless sunshine, a perfect day for looking at a ball game or go out for a walk.
A white newsvan was parked at the curb, sitting out of the way and overlooking the grassy area where a bunch of students were sitting and hanging out.
Gale Weathers was pacing back and forth with her mobile phone in hand, having just had a heated conversation with one of her bosses with Dewey standing beside her. "What'd I miss?"
Randy, ever the cheerful bloke, came waltzing over to where the two were standing, gaze drifting down at the same time as them when Gale's device started to ring.
She eyed Dewey before hastily pushing it into Randy's hands. "I'm not here."
Randy took it without hesitation, stuffing his free hand in the pocket of his pants as he held the small device to his ear. "Hello?"
A male voice called out. "Gale?"
"She's not here right now," Randy smoothly lied, but the person he was calling with easily saw through his bullshit.
"But she's standing right next to you," the cold inflection in the voice made Randy visibly tense up as the atmosphere around them immediately changed.
Randy, whose panicked eyes ignited Gale'd even more, started motioning wildly with his hands, pointing around the campus while mouthing 'he's watching' to the both of them.
Gale grabbed hold of Dewey's shoulders, silently ordering Randy to 'keep him talking' as the two scurried off across the wide area to find any student holding a phone, but it was like searching a needle in a haystack.
"So..." Randy muttered, every word of his mouth sounding like he'd rather drag his balls through glass than to talk with the person on the other end of the line. "What's your favourite scary movie?"
Whoever it was left Randy hanging in suspenseful silence, before giving an answer that sounded bitter and condescending. "They'll never find me."
Randy simply peered at Dewey and Gale who were frantically looking through the sea of students that were yelling at them as they passed by, before he dropped his hands. "Why do you care? Let 'em have their fun."
"What's your favourite scary movie?" The killet reflected the question back at him.
"Show Girls. Absolutely frightening. What's yours? Wait, let me guess," Randy started grasping at the endless possibilities. "The House On Sororiry Row? Splatter University? Am I close?"
The caller remained quiet for another handful of seconds. "Closer than you think."
"So, what's your deal?" Randy scoffed tauntingly, blowing out a wavering breath through his nose to start a mindless tirade that unbeknownst to himself, signed his death certificate.
Randy kept his gaze fixated on Gale in the distance who was jogging from one person to another to keep himself distracted, not wanting to tolerate being terrified for his life. "Can we talk openly for a sec? How does one become a serial killer, huh? Are you psychopatic or merely psychotic? Were you slapped around as a child? Did your mom take drugs? You know, have you tried getting laid?"
"Do you want to die?" The voice griped with underlying darkness.
Randy never knew when to shut up and without meaning to, kept pouring salt into the already gaping, open wound, gritting his teeth together almost audibly.
"Gee, let me think. Is that the best you can do? Some tired hand-me-down rehash? Hey pal, no one's gonne write a book about you. No movie rights. I've been through this before and much better, I might add."
-
Gale spotted a young man sitting with some other kids while he's talking on a cellular device. She races to him, moving her hand to his and rips it from their hands, ignoring his loud protests.
The boy jumped up, ready to pounce on her to retrieve his phone. Dewey speedwalked into her direction to tug her away, handing the person their mobile back as he did.
-
Meanwhile, Randy won't let up and continued his babbling non-stop with his eyes lowered to the ground.
"And if you're such a brilliant smart killer, why copycat? Why not be original? Where's the innovation? Let's pioneer some new ground. Make a statement. Go down in history. Now you'll always be the Woodsboro copycat killer, that's lame. And why Woodsboro?"
He cracked his neck and huffed out another heavy, nervous breath. Perhaps the blabbering was his way to cope with his anxiety that shooting through the roof at this moment.
"What about Manson, Bundy? Why imitate two high school loser ass dickheads. I knew the guys. Stu was a wussy wet rag and Billy, jesus, what a rat-looking homo-repressed mama's boy-"
Instantly, the newsvan door behind Randy ripped open as a black-robed figure lashed out, grabbing the unsuspecting Randy by the neck, quickly and harshly wrenching him into the van before the door was slammed back shut.
Just as Gale and Dewey bolted back to the vehicle blissfully unaware of what happened, sirens blared in the distance.
"Randy? Randy?" Gale found no sign of the boy. "Where did he go?"
Dewey circled the van, eyes widening when he saw rusty liquid oozing out from between under the doors, down to the ground.
Gale pushed the sliding door wide open to be met by the gruesome sight of Randy's lifeless body rolling out, as well as crimson splattered everywhere her eyes roamed.
His throat had been slit and his eyes once full of life were now cold and devoid.
A high pitched scream erupting from Gale's throat boomed through the entire campus, making all the people around stare their way while Dewey quickly rushed to her side to keep her from passing out.