You swallowed the lump in your throat at the spine-chilling presence that loomed over you. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to run, yet it was like your feet were nailed to the hardwood floor.
"Y/n..." The raspy voice made you shiver, the whites of your eyes expanding at the familiarity.
Billy finally found you.
Somehow, you built up enough courage to move, but before you could even take a step, he spoke again. "I wouldn't," he cautioned.
Your body stiffened at the warning, and you could hear the blood pounding in your ears. Too frightened to turn around, the increasing urge to scream for help became too much to withstand.
"Dewey—" Your shout for the former deputy was muffled by Billy's hand. You wriggled in his grasp as he wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you into a more secluded area of the house.
Settling for the hallway right outside your fake living room, your back was forcefully pinned against the wall as Billy pressed his hands to your shoulders to prevent you from fleeing.
"Billy!" You hollered, struggling against his hold to no avail. "Let me go—"
"It's been three years, Y/n. Three fucking years since you disappeared," he interrupted, eyes narrowing into a glare.
"Two and a half, actually." You retorted, looking anywhere but at him. Billy, however, did not seem amused by that. He captured your chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing you to meet his gaze with a firm grip.
Your lips parted, eyes darting all across his face as you took in his appearance. His hair grew longer, his features more mature than before, though his eyes were still the same, so full of anger and darkness. Even if he didn't deserve it, the tension in your chest expanded with empathy.
When you looked into his eyes, all you could see was the boy you used to know. You felt sorry for him. How could he have strayed down such a dark path?
"I didn't want to be found, Billy." You mumbled, wrapping your fingers around his wrist.
"Now, if that were true you wouldn't have come back." He countered, hand descending to rest against your jaw.
You exhaled, willing the tension from your body as you shook your head. No matter how much you denied it, a part of you knew that he was right. You dreamt of this encounter, dreading it yet also yearning for it. Billy took up a chunk of your heart that no one else could fill. It's why you could never bring yourself to be with anyone else.
You were permanently fucked up, and it was his fault.
"Fuck you." You muttered low, fighting through the control he had over you, internally repeating to yourself, "He killed Sidney." You thought that if you reminded yourself of all the horrible things he has done, it'd be enough to hate him. But it wasn't.
"If you insist." The ghost of a smile quirked on his lips in response to your futile insult.
"Where's Stu?" You inquired, ignoring the enjoyment he took in this. Wherever one was, the other was close by.
Though, Billy's expression fell at the mention of his counterpart, and you could see the irritation churning in his eyes. "Three years and the first thing you ask about is Stu?"
With a sigh, you tugged his hand away from your face. You disliked his jealous tone; he made it sound as if you belonged to him.
"He's not here if that's what you were hoping for," Billy bit out. His accusatory statement made your stomach knot with rage.
"Are you fucking serious? I don't give a shit if he's here or not!" You exclaimed. "God, Billy! You're so frustrating."
Your brows lowered into a glare, and you inhaled a ragged breath as you felt the rising flood of emotions overtake your mind. You reached a hand out toward Billy's chest, angrily gripping his shirt between your fist.
You couldn't help but think about Randy's question from earlier this morning, about where Billy and Stu's plan to go on a murder spree originated from. Who planted the idea into their heads? Because there is no way that the two boys you grew up with would have orchestrated something like that on their own.
"I mean, why? Why would you do this? Why didn't you come to me after your mother left?" You bombarded Billy with the question you've been aching to ask since the beginning. "You could've talked to someone but instead, you chose to kill. You ruined everything we had—"
"And if I had talked to you?" He snapped. "What would you have done?"
Billy's nostrils flared at your silence, his anger replicating your own as you slowly released his shirt. You don't know what you would've done, but anything would have been better than the way things turned out.
"Nothing would've changed. You couldn't have helped me." He spoke softer. You shuddered at how close he came, his breath just barely caressing your lips.
"So, you chose to kill our friends instead?" You asked, voice barely audible.
"They weren't my friends, Y/n. I never cared about them... only you." He declared.
You scoffed in response, becoming increasingly aware of the way his eyes flickered down to your mouth.
"It sucks, doesn't it?" You whispered, licking your bottom lip. "Because I don't care about you... I don't love you anymore."
Although your words were a lie, you tried your darnest to sound believable. "I've moved on, Billy. So, either kill me or just let me go."
"You moved on, huh?" Billy sneered. You had no time to think before his hand darted out to cup the back of your head, making you look up at him. "To who?"
You grunted, not expecting the sudden action, though you couldn't ignore the warmth that spread across your skin like a fire when he pulled you to him.
"I'm not telling you just so you can turn around and kill him." You ground out through gritted teeth.
"Give me a name, Y/n. Or I'll finish off Dewey... or how about Meeks?" He threatened without a second thought.
"No," Your lip quivered, fear raking up your spine as you regretted saying anything at all. His expression told you just how serious he was, he'd kill again without skipping a beat.
"Don't do this." You pleaded.
You felt his fingers flex on the back of your head as he sighed, "Then don't make me."
Blinking slowly, your hand trembled as you held onto his arm. The control he had over you caused your anxiety to skyrocket, and your pulse doubled in speed. You had to give him a name. If you didn't, he'd go on another killing spree. You couldn't lose anyone else. Not Randy, or Dewey, or even Gale.
You had to...
Swallowing back the nausea that filled your stomach, you exhaled a shaky breath.
"Roman Bridger."
Billy's brows twitched in the slightest, his grip around you loosening as he dropped his hand from your head. You could tell he was trying not to react as if it would give away some sort of hidden information.
"His name is Roman?" He reiterated, cocking his head back to mask his sudden shift in emotion.
His tongue jabbed at the inside of his cheek, chuckling at the unspoken irony. However, you were left standing there in a pit of confusion. "How is this funny?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest.
"Don't you know who he is?" Billy asked which only intensified your perplexity.
"Yeah, a director." You stated with a frown, not liking the entertainment expressed in his features.
"Oh, he's more than that, Y/n. He—"
You jumped when the front door of the house suddenly slammed open, cutting off Billy's words. The loud thud was followed by a pair of footsteps and a voice calling out for you. "Y/n, I found Randy!"
It was Dewey.
Billy instantly stepped back as he knew he'd get caught if he didn't let you go.
As you rushed out of the hall toward the foyer, all you could think about was Billy's reaction to Roman. You weren't sure what it entailed but it left you wary of the famous director.
"There you are!" Dewey voiced after spotting you. "Look, Roman's asking for you, so Randy and I are gonna catch up with Gale and the detective."
"Oh shit. Where is he?" You asked while speed-walking over to the front door.
"In his office," Dewey revealed as the two of you exited your fake house together. "Someone will fill you in on all the details after you've finished with work."
"Okay, thanks." You nodded, walking down the wooden steps of your porch.
After your unexpected encounter with Billy, you couldn't help but dread visiting Roman's office alone. You wanted to believe you had no reason to worry, but Billy had already filled your head with doubtful thoughts. What if Roman isn't who you thought he was?
You hated being so paranoid about everyone who entered your life, but how could you not? You always did know how to grab a killer's attention.
Why would this time be any different?