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song of the chapter: hayloft II by mother mother
"one got shot and the other got lost in drugs and punks and blood on the street."
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The pillar on the far left side of the studio was perfect for hiding behind. I had never wanted to hide or blend in before. I used to love being the center of attention. But that all changed.
When I arrived three hours earlier, I began asking around to get as much information as possible. An hour later, I disappeared behind the pillar to write it all down. This way, no one would bother me, and I wouldn't get distracted.
I was still trying to tie the director in with everything. He had asked Sarah Darling to meet him there last night. At least, according to Sarah's roommate.
No one seemed to like Sarah. She did nothing but complain, and she despised her character. That gave almost everyone here a motive.
I was so busy thinking it through that I almost didn't notice someone sit down next to me.
"What are you writing?" The person asked. I looked up to see Detective Kincaid.
"Just some stuff I found out from asking around," I shrugged.
He perked up a little at my response. He seemed to need all the help he could get. They were really struggling with this case.
"Anything that might help?" he wondered with a twinge of hope in his voice.
"Uh, maybe," I furrowed my eyebrows as I flipped through my notebook. "Oh. Um, do you know why Sarah was there last night?" He shook his head with an increasingly interested look on his face. "Well, I was told she was meeting the director Roman for a meeting." His eyes grew with interest.
"Are you sure?" he clarified.
"I talked to her roommate. That's what she told me," I summarized.
"Wait. How'd you find her roommate?" he questioned, with his hand up.
"Like I said. I asked around. You don't have to take my word for it. I can give you her number, Detective," I offered.
"That'd be great," he smiled. "And please, call me Mark." He had a nice smile. "Here." He handed me his cell phone.
I flipped to the page in my notebook where I had the number written down. I used that as a reference while I typed it into his phone.
"Hey, while you're at it, why don't you put your number in, too," he offered. I raised my eyebrows at his. "You know, in case we get new information."
"Okay," I decided. I typed my number into his phone, and gave it back to him.
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Dewey and I were sitting at the kitchen island, an awkward silence consuming the room. I could tell Dewey was stuck in his head, obviously overwhelmed.
"So, um, did you know Sarah well?" I wondered, trying to pull him from his reverie. He jumped slightly.
"Oh. No, not really. She wasn't very easy to talk to," he admitted.
"Yeah. From what I've heard most people hated her," I recalled as I grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter.
"That's wax," Dewey warned me as I was about to take a bite. I quickly put the apple back in the bowl.
"I knew that," I scoffed, feeling a little stupid.
The loud hum of the fridge seemed to be mocking the awkward silence that pursued.
"So, have you been staying here?" I wondered.
"No. This is Tom's house. I have a trailer," Dewey explained, with a little pride in his voice.
Dewey had always taken pride in small things. I looked around the kitchen. The house itself was beautiful, but I did have one problem. There were so many windows. I felt so exposed.
"How are they handling the news?" I asked.
Apparently, they ended up canceling the movie due to the murders. It was the smart choice, but I was guessing the cast is pretty upset.
"Let's find out," he decided as he stood up, desperate to get this awkward conversation over with.
We walked into the living room to see Jennifer and Tom sitting on the couch, plus another girl sitting on a chair awkwardly. Tom was smoking and ripping up his script. The two girls were watching him tensely.
"Is this a wrap party or is it a wrap party?" he asked. He opened the script to another page. "Scene 34. 'Maureen's Murder Flashback.'"
"I never liked that scene," Jennifer admitted.
"That's cause you weren't in it," the guy scoffed. He ripped another page and threw it behind his head. "Scenes 40 through 47. 'The Prescott House Flashbacks.'"
"Tom, stop it," the other girl commanded, standing up. "You're scaring me. Two people are dead."
"Scaring you? Ha!" he laughed. "Give the sweet, young ingenue act a rest."
"You're drunk," she realized.
"I'm coping," he objected. She started out the back door onto the porch. He threw some ripped paper in her direction.
"I bet she fought and clawed for that Sidney part," Tom gossiped. "I bet she stepped on any poor girl that got in her way."
"So you asked her out and she said no?" Jennifer guessed. I chuckled.
"That has nothing to do with it," he shook his head. I had my doubts.
"Right. Come on, Dewey," Jennifer said.
"Where are you guys going?" I asked, not wanting to be alone with the drunk actor.
"Away from here," she answered. "You can come too."
"Scene 50. 'Dewey Saves The Day,'" Tom recited.
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We stepped into a room nearby to help Jennifer with her lines. She said I could help her since I was so close with Gale.
"She's so focused on success she never thinks about who she's hurting to get it," Dewey told her.
"She has good qualities too, Dewey," I rolled my eyes. "Try really hard and you might be able to remember them."
"You saved her life, like, how many times?" Jennifer challenged.
"Gale wants the whole world to love her," he pointed out. "One person's never enough."
"She's a dreamer. There's nothing wrong with that," I shrugged.
"No, she's a narcissistic psycho bitch!" Jennifer ranted.
"No, she's not," Dewey said. "She's got a good heart."
"She does," I nodded. "And I thought she was a narcissistic bitch too until I got to know her."
"See, she hides it away because people see that as weak," Dewey said. He came across a picture of Jennifer in her costume in front of a street corner. "This is a good picture. You look just like her."
"God, Dewey. You make it sound like you're still in love with her," Jennifer joked, taking a puff on her cigarette.
"And I left out the part that she's cruel . . . and selfish, obsessive, and annoying," he listed.
"No she's not," I glared at him.
Gale was one of the only people I had left. Along with him and Sidney. And Sidney had disappeared completely after graduation.
"Hey, Dewdrop, got your girlfriend out here!" we heard someone yell from outside. I groaned. We got up and met them in the living room. I saw a man standing there with Gale. "Look who I found slinking around the yard. The nightly news."
"I wasn't slinking. I was walking," she denied.
"You were eavesdropping at the bedroom window," he spilled. I snorted.
"Yeah, a bedroom that you seemed awfully at home in," Gale shot at Dewey.
"All right, let's talk," Dewey sighed. "Come on." He dragged me with him to the kitchen.
"Did you know they released Roman?" she asked us.
"The director?" I wondered, furrowing my eyebrows. She nodded.
"Sarah's call didn't come from his cell phone," she explained.
"Where did it come from?" Dewey asked.
"A cloned cell phone. It's untraceable," she told us. I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Thanks for the update, Gale. Why don't you just go back home?" Dewey demanded.
"Dewey, wait a minute. Just wait one second," she insisted, diving for a picture by the sink. She unfolded it. "How old do you think Maureen Prescott is in this picture?"
"Nineteen, twenty," he shrugged.
"That's what I thought, so I checked it out," she said. "I cannot find any information about her at this age. I mean, nothing."
"She lived in Woodsboro her whole life. Someone there must know something," I shrugged.
"Almost her whole life," Gale objected. "Two years before she met Sidney's father, she left Woodsboro. No one has any idea where she went or what she did. It's like she fell into a black whole, Dewey! She vanished!"
"So?" he asked.
"So?" she repeated. "Why is the killer leaving pictures of Maureen? And why these picture at that point in her life?"
I furrowed my eyebrows, getting a closer look at the other one. She was in front of a street corner. I recognized it.
"Dewey, isn't that the street from Jennifer's picture?" I asked, nudging him.
His eyes widened. He suddenly started limping to Jennifer's room. Gale and I followed him. We compared the pictures.
"The second story. There and there," he nodded. "It's the same! It's the same street 28 years ago."
"Oh my God. Maureen Prescott was at the back lot at Sunrise Studios," Gale realized.
"I gotta make some calls," Dewey shook his head, storming into the living room. We followed. "Gotta call Kincaid."
"Dewey, where is everybody?" Gale asked.
I was suddenly aware of the emptiness of the room. The door suddenly slammed open. We screamed, jumping. Dewey took his gun out. The wind just blew. My heart was beating out of my chest.
"Oh, God," Gale groaned.
"Jennifer?" Dewey called cautiously. "Angelina? Tom?" The back door opened. He jumped back, pointing his gun.
"Oh, God! What happened?" Jennifer asked.
He sighed, putting his gun down. I saw Tom and Angelina coming in from the kitchen. But Dewey didn't. He jumped, pointing his gun at him.
"Agh!" Tom yelled, putting his hands up. He put his gun down again. "Don't do that."
"I'm overreacting," he realized, putting his gun away.
"Dewdrop?" we heard the voice of that man.
We turned our heads to the front door. He was walking towards us very slowly, blood coming from his mouth. I immediately knew something was wrong.
"Stone?" Dewey asked, walking toward him. We followed him carefully.
"Oh my God!" Jennifer said.
"Oh, God, Stone!" Tom exclaimed as we got closer. He fell to his knees.
"Oh, God!" I yelled when I saw the knife in his back. Dewey ran to him. I stayed in the house.
"Dewey, is he dead?" Gale asked.
"Yeah," he nodded, looking up at us. There was rustling from the bushes nearby. He jumped up. "Everyone back inside!" We ran back, Dewey following us. He slammed the door and locked it. "It's all right. Don't panic."
"Don't panic? Dewey, somebody's dead!" I yelled. The lights suddenly went out. We all screamed, looking around. Jennifer ran for the back door.
"Okay, outside. Everyone stay together and remain calm," Dewey instructed as we ran out the door. There was a cell phone ringing. I checked my pocket.
"Not mine," I said.
"It's not mine," Tom informed us.
"Me neither," Gale shook her head.
"Shit! It's the fax," Jennifer realized, running inside to the fax machine. She grabbed the paper and took out her flashlight. "Interior, Jennifer's house. Living room, night. It's a script paper."
"What's it say?" Angelina yelled, panicking.
"With the bodyguard stabbed, the six stand trapped," she went on. I whimpered, clutching onto Gale.
"He's rewriting the movie," Tom noticed.
"As the killer waits outside," she read. Everyone looked out the window. "Suddenly the fax machine sends news of their fates."
"It's a trick! Outside!" Dewey yelled.
"What if he's trying to make us think it's a trick?" I demanded.
"The killer prepares to grant mercy to only one of them," Jennifer read on.
"Don't you get it? The killer says he's outside because he wants us here inside!" Gale explained. Jennifer grabbed the next paper.
"Which one is it?" Tom asked.
"Come on!" Dewey yelled.
"Who will survive? Is it Jennifer? Tom? Angelina? Dewey? Bronwyn? Gale?" she recited. "The killer will give mercy to--" the paper cut off. We had to wait for the next fax.
"Everyone outside!" Dewey commanded. He pushed us all out the door.
"He grants mercy to who?" Angelina asked.
"I wanna know what happens!" Jennifer complained, trying to get back inside.
"Wait for the fucking movie!" Gale yelled, holding her back.
"I've gotta know! I'm going back in!" Tom decided, running into the house.
"No!" we all yelled.
"All right, everyone back. Stay together," Dewey told us.
"What's it say?" Angelina yelled into the house.
"And the . . . killer will give mercy to . . . whoever . . . " he struggled. I realized he didn't have a flashlight.
"Whoever?" Angelina repeated impatiently. I say him go into the kitchen and light a lighter.
"Whoever . . . whoever smells the gas," he read.
With that, there was an explosion. I didn't realized what happened until the flames were engulfing the building. We screamed, running out of the yard.
We jumped over the balcony railing, falling onto the ground below. I grunted as the ground hit me. I was rolling down the hill as pieces of woods fell on me. None of us could stop.
I rolled another good forty feet before I was able to stop. I groaned, standing up. I could feel stinging cuts from where material had fallen on me.
"Gale! Bronwyn! Jennifer!" I heard Dewey yell.
"Dewey!" I responded, looking around. I was alone. I followed the voice, letting out a relieved sigh when I saw him.
"Dewey!" we heard Gale's voice. "Dewey where are you? Dewey, over here!"
We followed her voice to see her standing next to a car parked on a street. We sighed. Then we saw it. The killer came out from behind the van, sneaking up on Gale.
"Gale, behind you!" we yelled. She screamed, turning around. Dewey got his gun out and managed to shoot the killer several times.
He fell against the car, collapsing on the ground. Suddenly, Dewey's foot slipped, causing him to fall down the rest of the hill. I groaned, running after him.
"Dewey! Are you all right?" Gale asked, running over to him.
"Yeah, never been better," he groaned. I finally got to the street.
"Where'd he go?" I demanded, looking at the car. The killer was gone.
"He must've rolled under the car!" Gale realized, clutching onto Dewey.
"All right. Stay close," he instructed.
We walked to the car with his gun raised. He squatted by the car, but nobody was under it. We cautiously walked to the other side of the car.
"Is he back there?" I asked, clutching onto Gale.
"No," he answered.
"No?" she asked.
"He's fast. I could've sworn I hit him," he complained, putting his gun away. He turned to Gale.
"Are you all right?" he asked her.
"Yeah," she nodded. "Thanks for saving me."
"Ah. It's a habit," he joked. They chuckled. The tension was through the roof. It was as if I wasn't even there.
"Oh, God," she said, putting her hand on his face to study his cuts. All the sudden she went in for a kiss.
"What the fuck . . . " we heard. We all yelled, turning around to see Jennifer. "happened to you?"
"Jennifer, wait a minute," Dewey insisted.
"Who gave you a place to stay?" she recalled. "Who are you supposed to be protecting?"
She wound up her fist and punched him in the face. I gasped, jumping back.
"Jennifer!" Gale objected. "Hey!" She punched Jennifer in the face this time. The girl groaned, falling to the ground.
"Nice," I encouraged. Jennifer pulled herself up dramatically.
"My lawyer liked that," she warned.
"Not as much as I did," Gale smirked.
There was more rustling from the bushes. I jumped, hiding behind Dewey. But it was just Angelina. I'd forgotten about her.
"Angelina?" Dewey asked.
"Tom was in the house," she recalled, her voice shaking.
"How'd you end up way over there?" Dewey wondered. I clutched onto Dewey. Jennifer tried to clutch onto Jennifer, but she pushed her away.
"Tom was in the house," she sobbed. I heard sirens wailing. "Are we safe?"
"Safe from who?" Dewey challenged. "Wait a second!" He limped over to the car and leaned over. He picked up a picture that was on the ground.
"Another picture," I said. We looked down at Maureen as she stared back at us. He turned it over. There was a message.
I killed her.