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" I'M BILLY LOOMIS' DAUGHTER. "
alexa, play WHATEVER YOU WANT by whoever you want, because i can't think
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"Tater Tots, hey sweetie," Dad's voice was a whisper; I pulled my old teddy bear closer to my chest and tried to block it out, "you gotta wake up. C'mon, I made us breakfast."
"What time is it?" I mumbled my question and rose to a slouched sitting position, realizing quickly that he wouldn't leave unless I woke up. "If it's early, I'm gonna fall back asleep."
"It's nine-thirty-three." He pointed to the alarm clock on my bedside table, which read at the same time as he spoke. "I know you like sleeping in till ten on the weekends, but I figured since you and Wes have that date later on, you'd wanna be up early."
I smiled, almost crying at how thoughtful he was. Dad noticed every little thing, and he always tried to do his best to make my days good. He always makes sure I'm safe, and happy, and healthy, and on time, and every little thing is perfect. That's why I loved him so much-that is exactly why I loved him so much. I have no idea what type of person I'd be if I didn't have him as my father, and honestly, I don't ever want to find out who I'll be once he's gone. But he's not even 50 yet, I won't have to find out what I'll be like after his passing for a long while. Stick to the moment that you're living in right now, or else it'll be gone faster than Thanos can snap.
"Thank you," I nodded slowly. "I'll be there in a couple of minutes, think you can wait until then?"
"Sure, take all the time you need." He gave a soft kiss on the top of my forehead before walking out of my room, closing the glitter-ridden door behind him.
I laughed to myself at the memory of how my bedroom door became so glittery; I pulled on an off-the-shoulders white cropped shirt and the easiest-to-grab-pair of denim jeans. I grabbed the same hair brush that Laina had thrown at a daddy long-legs spider about two weeks ago during a sleepover, and whilst now feeling like bugs are crawling all over my body, I brushed through my knot-ridden hair. The glittery door caught my attention as the sun made it reflect into my mirror, which reflected into my eyes, which in turn blinded me. Brielle, Mindy, and Laina had tried to pull a prank in which they had a huge box full of glitter that was wrapped like a present; they would give the present to me and it would explode in my face. However, as I had been opening the gift standing up, it opened the wrong way, and projected itself straight onto my door. Good prank, terrible execution, too high of expectations for me.
"G'morning Auntie," I gave a wave to Tatum Riley's box of ashes upon coming out to the living room/kitchen area, and I heard Dad let out a soft laugh. "What?"
"Nothing, nothing, it's just...really nice that you always do that." I envisioned him shrugging, so after I glared at the old picture of Mom and Dad that he had framed on the same shelf as Tatum's ashes, I turned to actually see him going to grab a donut from the box I had meant to throw away days ago.
Like, when I first got the 'prank' call from god-knows-who.
"No, no, no, Dad, don't eat-" I tried to give him a warning, but it was already too late, "that."
"Oh," He groaned in disgust and spit the bitten donut out of his mouth, even coughing a bit-though that could just be for dramatics. "That tastes terrible, Tates, jeez-"
"I'm sorry, I like, had it in my head to throw those out a couple of days ago, but then I never really got around to it or anything." I waited three and a half beats for him to finish pouring both of us a mug of coffee. "Sorry."
"Oh, don't be sweetheart, it's okay," he planted a kiss on the top of my head as he handed me my mug and made his way to the couch, "c'mon, we're gonna miss the show."
I might hate my mother, but it has become a form of comfort to watch her morning show every morning at 8:00. It was like a habit that as badly as you wanted to break, you couldn't. I'd been doing this for too long with Dad, so despite my emotions towards my mother, watching her morning news show always provided comfort since I was 7 and 3 quarters, first living in the trailer with Dad. I realized Dad had a bottle of liquor in his hands, and was actively pouring it into some of his coffee. The second he put his mug down and changed the channel that played Good Morning with Gale Weathers, I switched our identical mugs and took a sip of the coffee & liquor mix, trying not to cringe too noticeably for Dad to notice.
It had a strong taste-a very, very strong taste. It was bitter, too. I'll just take small sips of it, I shrugged off a majority of my worries. Dad leaned back into the couch as the infamous Gale Weathers focused on the monitor and began her monologue, and I messaged Wes, asking him if Sam and Tara were okay-Sam had been attacked last night. He didn't reply right away, but I didn't expect him to, since it was still pretty early in the morning. I set my phone down and tried to force myself to pay attention to the show, and just as my phone dinged, somebody banged on the door. Dad spilled his coffee on my lap, and I also spilled my coffee on my lap.
"Ah, shit-" I mumbled, standing up and doing a little tippy toed dance to try and not die from how hot this coffee is.
"Sorry, I'm sorry," Dad apologized, and then shouted to the ominous door-knocker: "Go away!"
I dashed to the kitchen and started to dab my legs with the nearest hand towel, really not in the mood to change my jeans. I liked my outfit, if I changed it I wouldn't be able to do anything.
"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Riley," the voice sounded oddly familiar, "we just want to ask you a few questions!"
"I don't give interviews." Dad's voice was both monotone and full of anger all at once.
"Uh, we're not looking for an interview!" Samantha fucking Carpenter.
I'm going to murder you.
"Give me one good reason," Dad was peaking through the small window in the door, "why I should talk to you!"
"I'm Billy Loomis's daughter."
That is a terrible reason for him to talk to you.
Dad opened and unlocked the door; "That's a terrible reason for me to talk to you," he said, and I threw down the towel in frustration.
"Alright, no-" I hit my hip on the corner of the counter on my way over, and after taking two seconds to wince in pain, I put a hand on said injured hip and stepped in front of my father. "Not. Happening." I turned to face Dad, giving a small smile. "Let me talk to them for a second, okay?"
Dad had a mix of emotions on his face, but he nodded and I stepped outside, closing the door behind me and motioning for Sam and Richie to move the fuck back. Sam's expression was that of confusion, and Richie...I don't know. It was strange. I don't want to know, actually. There was silence for about thirty seconds, I stood with my arms crossed. Sam grew to look uncomfortable, Richie grew to look confused.
"Listen, Tatum-" Sam started to talk, so I chose that moment to start talking as well.
"What the fuck, Sam." It wasn't a question. "He's not getting involved in this shit, sorry to ruin your fuckin' plans, but go call the Marvelous Miss Prescott instead. She's with a detective, now, I'm sure you'll be able to work something out with her. Leave my father out of this, or so help me god, I'll curb stomp both of you."
"That's harsh-" Richie started, but I cut him off.
"No it isn't. Get out of here, Sam." I was glaring daggers; Sam took a step closer and opened her mouth without any words forming. "Get the fuck out of here, Sam! I'm not letting him get mixed up in this shit, I'm not losing my father! I know you did it so you think it's not a big deal, but he is the only family I have left-"
"I'm trying to protect my family, Tatum! We're both trying to do the same thing, can we please just work with each other on this?" Sam's words hurt me and made me experience an unnamed epiphany all at once.
"Let them in, Tater Tots." Dad's voice made me turn to face the once more opened door, and I knew better than to argue with him on this. It didn't stop me from giving him a small pleading look, however. "It's okay."
"Five minutes, it's all we need-" Sam wasn't getting out a sentence if it was the last thing I was able to do.
"Just go, just go in." I motioned towards the door, allowing both of them to walk in before I did.
"Gale Weathers, didn't you two used to..." Richie asked the question as they sat down on the couch-he sat where the coffee had been spilled, and how uncomfortable he seemed made me giggle.
"Dude." I slapped his shoulder, and he held up his hands in a surrendering manner.
"Who's he?" Dad asked, and I already had to try and resist laughing.
"Uh, this is Richie, my boyfriend." Sam explained innocently.
"How long have you known him?" He kept prodding for a mix of good reasons and to make me smile. Dad had jokingly done the same thing when I first made it public that Wes and I were together.
"Six months?" Sam sounded like she was questioning herself.
"Did he know who your dad was when you met? Express any interest in Woodsboro or the Ghostface killings?" His questions made both Sam and Richie look confused, but I just sat back in my chair and smirked slightly.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Richie asked, seeming to actually be uncomfortable with being questioned like this.
"Your killer is obsessed with the Stab movies," Dad explained, "right? Well, there are certain rules to surviving a Stab movie. Believe me I know." His voice became quiet with that last sentence, I pressed my lips together to form a sympathetic smile. "Rule number one: never trust the love interest. They seem sweet, caring, supportive, and then welcome to Act Three, when they're trying to rip your head off."
"I was with Sam in Modesto when Tara was attacked," Richie argued, and I kicked his shin.
"And let me guess, you were just in the other room, conveniently unaccounted for when she was attacked at the hospital!" Dad's voice had slightly raised in response to Richie's.
"Okay, do I have to take this from...shitty Sam Elliot over here, or what?" Richie wanted to be killed, didn't he? He was the killer, he was getting called out, and now he wanted to be murdered by Dewey Riley's daughter.
"Cut the shit, Richie, or both of you are out here, right now." I warned, and Sam cast a quick glare in my direction.
"Rule number two: the killer's motive is always connected to something in the past." Dad continued on after giving me a subtle thumbs up.
"I'm related to Billy-"
"Vince was a Macher." I perked up, excited to be able to attribute to this conversation.
"Right," Dad pointed at me approvingly, "rule number three-and this is the most important rule. The first victim always has a friend group that the killer is a part of. Does your sister have a close knit group of friends?"
"Yeah...she does." Sam's voice was trailing off.
"Then look for the killer there. If you can find out why they're doing this, you can figure out who's next." They had a minute and twenty-two seconds left.
"So help us," Sam begged, "help us figure out who's behind this."
"One rule. You had one rule." I mumbled, glaring daggers at Sam.
"Oh, jesus, are you kidding me?" Even Dad was fed up with being asked for help. "I've been stabbed nine times, I've got...permanent nerve damage and a fun little limp. You think I wanna do that again?"
"You just said it always goes back to the past, right? So, if I'm in danger, that means Tatum's in danger. Come on. Lets do this. Together." Her words sent a multitude of emotions rolling through my trainwreck of a mind.
The daughter card, seriously? She feels the need to stoop that low in order to get my father's help? Jesus fucking Christ, her Loomis is showing.
"Your time's up." Dad said after a tense couple of seconds, and I couldn't help but smile.
I, once again, followed Sam and Richie outside of the trailer, not even bothering to close the door behind me this time. It didn't matter if Dad heard everything I said or didn't hear anything I said at all. I was too pissed off to care.
"Sam, what the fuck?" I was curt with every word.
"We need his help-" She started to explain whatever reasoning she had, but I refused to give her the time of day.
"No, I don't fuckin' care about that!" I raised my voice to match my anger. "The daughter card? If you had to stoop that low in the first fuckin' place, maybe you should've left it alone. Ever thought about it like that?"
"I, no-"
"No, of course you haven't. Now get the fuck out." My voice wasn't exactly raised anymore, but it was still just as venomous.
"Tatum, I didn't mean to-"
"Get the fuck out!" I was right in her face, and sure enough, both of them backed off and got into their car.
I watched them drive away with my arms crossed, and after watching them drive away until I couldn't see them anymore, I turned to walk back inside. Just as I pushed open our door, Dad was walking out. My eyes widened, and I shook my head upon realizing what he was doing. How did he get dressed so quickly? What is time? He plopped my phone in my hand, and the shaking of my head increased.
"You're all supposed to meet up at Mindy and Chad's house, c'mon." He jingled the keys, and I stood firmly at the doorstep.
"Dad, no, come on, don't do this, I don't want to, lets just go back inside, please stop walking," I was a rambling mess of pleas, "no, Dad, no, stop, please stop, please don't, please God no."
"Wow," Dad chuckled, "I never knew my daughter was the narrator for my conscience."
"Does that mean we aren't going?" I asked, getting hopeful and then instantly deflating.
"Nope, come on, get in the goddamn truck."
"Was it even worth a try?" I asked after climbing into the shotgun seat of the truck, looking over to Dad with an expression of expectancy.
"It's always worth a shot, Tatum. It is always going to be worth a shot."
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woah wes' death is showing up soon
anywho ready for bo burnham next chapter?
my tiktok buddies know what i'm talking about