Jenna Ortega X Fem Reader - Tumblr Posts

Hi, love your writing! I have a request where reader and Jenna are in a long distance relationship and reader decides to surprise Jenna after hearing Jenna’s been having a tough week filming or something. Just something along those lines haha

a flight away

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^^ request!!!

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: bittersweet

a/n: first of all,, thank you so much!!!! and second of all, ill try my best! hope this is to ur liking anon

masterlist

You didn't know what you were getting into the first thing in the morning when you checked your phone at exactly 6:34 AM.

Normally, you'd do the routine where you stare at your wallpaper (it was a picture of Jenna) for a good 20 minutes before internally dying inside because of why should she be such a hardworking woman to the point you only get to see her for about 1-2 months before leaving again, but then fall in love with her like it was the first time for that exact reason entirely.

Now, you woke up to Jenna's notifications flooding her digital face, more voicemails and missed calls rather than messages.

Obviously, you panicked out of your fucking mind.

You knew she was safe in Ireland where she was filming season 2 of Wednesday. She has more bodyguards around her than people trying to get her autograph, and she has her co-stars with her at all times.

She was safe. Safe. The word almost sounded like a prayer you repeated in your head as you eyed her messages.

You couldn't open the voicemail for the reasons that you might hear an announcement that Jenna has got into some serious shit and might need to be hospitalized and you absolutely need to be there for her right now.

But after 5 minutes of going through all stages of grief, you pressed play.

You were not expecting Jenna to outright scream at her phone in the middle of the night.

"Y/n. Y/n, I—God, I don't even know where to start with this. I'm just so… so tired. From everything, from everyone. I don't know why, seriously, I don't know why but i just—I just broke down when I came back to my apartment."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have to message you like this in the middle of the night. I'm doing well in Ireland, but I'm having such a rough fucking time in shooting every scene. It's not like I hate everyone on the set, I love them, I… I don't know."

"I need you, please Y/n. Even if it's just your voice, just please give me a piece of your presence. I need something to hold on, someone to tell me that it's going to be okay and I'll get through this. I know, it's a bit overdramatic but… I just miss you so damn much, and this distance is killing me more than ever. We haven't seen eachother atleast a year now. I'm so tired."

"Please pick up, y/n. It's selfish for me to ask, but I just want to hear you. It feels like I'm losing myself in all of this. I don't want to break down in front of everyone on set tomorrow. But, y/n. Y/n, y/n, y/n, it's so hard."

"I love you. I love you so much. So damn much, it's killing me. I miss New York, I miss our home, I miss you. I wish you were here. I'm sorry for letting you hear me like this over the phone, it's unbecoming. I love you, goodnight."

Your heart sank.

It was all too surreal, all too agonizing, like you feel bile coming up to your throat.

The daunting feeling of Jenna experiencing all of these emotions at once dragged your heart, her voice like a film tape in your mind as if were right there with Jenna in her room.

You heard her cry, you watched her curl herself up on her mattress all while she clung to her phone as if it was your hand she wished she held everyday.

You craved for the warmth of her hand, and you imagine she craves yours as much as you do with hers while you longed to be there with her, for her. To hold her close to you and offer the comfort she needed. The very touch that healed every scar, present and future, was replaced by the lifeless screen of your phone.

You were there, you swear you're there, but you couldn't do anything but listen.

On top of everything, you blamed yourself.

You called her almost everyday, the long-distance relationship being almost a mere label to the both of you.

You texted her every morning and went to bed with her every night. You were there, always. Yet, it felt like you neglected her. Like a piece of you was missing before you even realized it.

Now all you can think about are her restless nights.

The days where Jenna staged a performance with a heavy heart while you smiled with joy, the nights where you slept peacefully in your own bed while Jenna tossed and turned in discomfort in something unfamiliar, sacrificing her rest for your peaceful evenings to remain the same.

You don't know how many days she's been like this, nor do you want to know, the thought was unbearable enough.

And you almost feel bad of booking a plane ticket rather than responding to her. You were just a flight away anyways.

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Shit, her head hurts.

Hammering, actually.

Like someone cracked it open with an axe made out of obsidian right down the middle and served it to her on a silver platter.

She never should've accepted that afterparty invite from Georgie.

If she never got absolutely wasted to shots from bottles of alcohol, maybe Jenna would've had the brain capacity to curse him under her breath for being such a good damn friend.

Worst of all, she was missing someone. Horribly.

You.

Not just you, but everything of you.

Your scent, your warmth, your presence, your heartbeat against hers—a cruel reminder on how she was missing all of these.

She longed to hear the way you laugh as if you heard the funniest joke ever, the way you smile at Jenna as if she was a saint that had done nothing wrong, the way you loved her oh so dearly like she was the only person that made you crawl out of your skin in a good way.

Now it was taken from her. All of it. She felt like she was nothing without her muse, which was actually the case here.

Jenna was supposed to stay for a year with you—a whole fucking year! A whole year was watered down to a pathetic one to two months because of a change in filming schedule that Jenna had, somehow, no right to turn down.

That's not even half of the time Jenna spent miles away from you, and she couldn't even apologize properly in person since she had to depart so early in the morning.

The thought of you expecting Jenna to wake up beside you with a smile and a kiss only to be woken up with a cold bed with a note apologizing a million times made her flight to another country worse.

She would've been happier if the plane crashed then she would be begging to whatever afterlife she was in to bring her back to the living and spend her life with you.

It's gotten to that point where she looked just like Wednesday off-cam if not worse. She even almost snapped at Emma when she tried consoling her.

Now she sits in her trailer, on a chair, not with you, but with... a chair. Along with her script on a table.

Jenna tried a few lines, repeated them, tried a few lines, repeated them, and it all just comes back full circle.

No matter what she does, she still fucking missed you and wished she could just tell everyone she wanted and needed a nap along with her girlfriend by her side until it reaches winter of 2025.

She could take a nap right now, but you weren't with her. The cold surface would make you appear in her dreams like the loving parasite you are to her and she would only yearn more.

She could take a walk right now, but little ice cream shops along the way would only make her reminisce about the times you would take her out on dates every damn day like you had buckets on buckets of gold to spend it all on Jenna. She would only miss you even more.

She could talk to one of her co-stars, but they weren't you. The stupid and fuckass conversations you'd often bring up, they wouldn't do that. Even if they did, it wouldn't have the same effect.

Why did life suddenly become so difficult when she now has the most gorgeous, talented, and loving girlfriend a billion miles away from her!?

After putting her arms over her eyes, trying to calm down the impending woe and sadness she was facing, a soft knock on her door interrupted all of it.

"Jenna?" She heard Emma's voice, soft like she was hesitant to talk to her if not for Jenna responding with a hum, "we've been calling you for 5 minutes now. It's our scene."

Her voice was serious, though quiet. Or maybe that was just concern, Jenna has been distant for a while now.

Letting out a sigh, she replied, "Right, I'll be there in a minute."

She pulled herself up from the chair. She didn't really need to return to the makeup team, just thankful she didn't cry herself to death thinking about you.

She turned her back to see Emma standing in front of the door, half opened, peering half of her body, "Jenna, you know you can take a break if you want—"

Jenna only offered a weak smile, her steps matching Emmas as they walked over to set, "It's fine. Don't worry about me too much."

Her thoughts are too different from what she was saying, but it wasn't like she could say she'd rather kill herself before even stepping foot out of her trailer without seeing y/n.

"Jenna!" Tim Burton called her out, his voice calm, stretching out her name like he was going to say something completely off-guard.

The girl in question was already staring him down as he spoke, "We've got a change in script"

The girl in question was already staring him down as he spoke, "We've got a change in script. Nothing too big, just that we've added a new extra that Wednesday needs to interact with on this scene."

Isn't that a slight bit unprofessional?

Jenna could let out the most exhausted and exasperated sigh if not for Tim being the one of the sweetest, yet often odd, directors she ever worked with.

"Yeah, sure, can I atleast meet this person—"

"Sorry, Jenna," He lead her to the place she needed to be, the extra in question being no where near in Jenna's sight, "but this is really a last minute change and we just need you both to improvise."

"Wait, but—!"

Her protests were already too late, looking like it went through one ear and out the other through the audio. She was just grateful she had enough training and years in this industry to immediately get into character.

It was supposed to be her scene with Emma, lurking in the woods, a lantern between her fingers as they approached a silhouette of a figure.

Now it was just Jenna in the scene, lurking in the woods, leaves crunching under her combat boots as she watched the camera move alongside her body, not a lantern but rather a flashlight gripped on her palm.

She was informed that the silhouette in question was one of her co-stars that she had met before hand, a tall figure in the distance that she could immediately distinguish based on the back alone.

Now... it's... not exactly what she was expecting to see when she got in character.

She approached the figure, confused as ever, not because it was in her script to do so, but she was actually so damn confused it wouldn't be a surprise to her if she was imagining things.

Because the silhouette looked exactly like you.

Jenna knew you from the slightest shade of your skin, even when it's so damn dark outside.

She knew you from the way you stood, the way you sometimes would do whatever it is with your hands when idle, the way you'd often slightly tilt your head back when you're suppressing a hard giggle—which you were and failing to do so—the way you, in your own words by the way, aren't a good actress for Jenna to practice her lines on without laughing like a total maniac.

Holy shit.

Jenna's mind raced, all too fast for her liking, her heart pounding in her chest, and her body almost in flames at the thought of you being here. Finally being here.

It couldn't be real, of course it wouldn't, why would you be on set in fucking Ireland? It must be a trick, much so a figment of her imagination and maybe more or less girlfriend deprived of everything you gave her. But as she drew closer, her steps doing all but walking slowly to the silhouette, it because unmistakable who it was.

It was you.

Her best friend ever since she learned how to act in middle school, a friend that stuck with her forever even in times where you could've left her all alone.

Her girlfriend. The girlfriend of almost a few years that she loved and cherished with all her might, even if she were to commit a sin, there would be no greater wrong than Jenna disliking you.

It was her home. At last.

Without a second thought, Jenna abandoned everything, forgetting that she was even supposed to be the character she was and rushed towards her, arms already stretched in a desperate embrace to feel your warmth against her body once again. Your heartbeat against hers. It was all too surreal, all too fucking real.

Jenna threw herself into your arms, wrapping you in a tight hug that almost knock you both off of balance in the dirt. Your body stumbling forwards as your back was faced on her.

You still smelled like New York, mixed with that familiar airpot scent that Jenna always got used to. But now, it felt so new, so new that you were hugging her, touching her like it was the last symphony you'd play in your life.

She hugged you, tight. Her hands gripping your clothes like you'd disappear in a matter of seconds. You can hear her taking deep breaths against your body, gulps, and her hold tightening onto you with each passing moment.

As you turned around, you waited for Jenna to slowly loosen her grip, her eyes searching yours as if she still could hardly believe that you were here, standing in front of her after all this time apart. And now, you couldn't believe devotion was still present in her eyes, that warm of a gaze that you always managed to capture in her eyes.

"You're here. Y/n, you're—" She sniffed, looking up at you as she cupped your cheeks, a stray tear trickling down her eyes that shimmered, "You're really here." She whispered, her voice cracking almost to a fault. Her voice was fragile, it crushed you. "Why, how? What, I don't under—"

You smiled softly, chuckling even, you didn't expect it to go this way. "That's not part of the script, Wednesday." You joked, even if it was a serious moment, you always seemed to have one.

"You're not part of the script, why are you here!?"

You reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from Jenna's fringe as Wednesday, your touch gentle and reassuring like it never changed over the years. It was still there, your love was still there, and you were waiting for your lover to come back once in your arms to show how much you missed her oh so dearly.

"I missed you." You simply said, slightly swaying the both of you back and forth

Jenna couldn't say anything, let alone form a few words, but the way she hugged you yet again after a few seconds of silence with such tenderness and compassion, it said everything that you needed to know.

Everything that you lost and you hold today, nothing mattered. Not even the heart that wouldn't stop beating against your chest, it wouldn't matter if you died, atleast it was in her arms.

"So I don't get to have an I miss you back?"

Jenna pulled back slightly, you can see how her eyes glistened looking if it was something that not even renaissance artists could sclupt.

"You don't know how many nights I've spent crying because of how I missed you." She mumbled, voice below a whisper, her mouth hung open from her slight crying, taking a deep breath as she let herself be in the most vulnerable state with you yet.

"You cried?"

"Without you? Terribly so."

Your heart ached when Jenna started to cry, she looked small. Smaller than ever in your arms when you once held her for the first time when she became a busy actress.

She broke down, almost melting in your presence as you try to hold her up. You knew there were cameras rolling, that there were people on set watching this go down, but you knew that you were the only one witnessing her vulnerable state, no matter how many people would see right through her.

You reached up to gently wipe away the tears that streaked down her cheeks, her freckles being in view, something that you missed so dearly, your touch light and tender as you held her—your world—in your hands.

"I wish I could've been there for you," you regretted, "I wish I was there every night, to wipe away the inevitable tears that would grace your face, to hold you in my arms every night.

Jenna shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips, "all that matters is that you're here with me." She chuckled. "Why are you here?"

"Booking a small plane ticket from New York to here was the smallest price to pay for the chance to hold you in my arms once again."

"You know those are expensive, y/n," she scolded you, yet her tone was playful. "How long are you planning to stay?"

You hummed, a grin curling on your lips, "As long as you want me to be here," you replied, "I can't go back when I don't have a return ticket."

Jenna leaned into your touch, her eyes closing as she savored the warmth of your embrace, she didn't know how much she took advantage of this until now. She was afraid you'll be leaving soon, even with all assurances, everything you'll be giving her wouldn't be enough to ease her fears of you departing from her soul once more.

"I love you, y/n. Too much."

"I love you too, Jenna. You know I was only a flight away."

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Y: i heard your voicemails, by the way. J: i sent voicemails?

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a/n: sorry if this request was so so so late!! i still have more requests in my inbox and they'll probably be delayed for a couple of days or maybe even weeks because of exams. buttt ill try to post as much as i can with requests and super sorry in advance to those who requested! ill be updating future posts in my masterlists

The Quiet One Pt V

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!reader

Summary:With Ghostface closing in on them, Act 3 finally begins as everyone teams up to hopefully once and for all take them down. ~ Word Count: 9.8k ~ Warnings: descriptions of gory injuries, blood, and anything that comes with Scream, Scream VI spoliers!!, hella swearing

A/N: OMG HEY!!!! IM BACK!!! It has been such a ridiculously long time since I have written, and I'M SO SORRY. Life really got in the way for a while, but I am back. This fic is so damn long it took me ages, but I hope it's everything you guys wanted. I love you all! COME ON MOTHERF*CKER!!

Pt1 ~ Pt2 ~ Pt3 ~ Pt4 ~ Pt5

Stepping onto the brisk streets of New York, a cool breeze brushed against your skin, painting a rosy hue on your nose and cheeks. The gentle breeze caressed your scar, providing needed relief to its subtle throbbing as you walked hand-in-hand with Tara, who was engrossed in conversation with her sister, while the rest of the group led the way to the station. Eyes scanning your surroundings hastily, your brain attempted to adjust to your new vision as you watched people walk past, utterly oblivious to the psycho that was tormenting their city.

You had never been more jealous.

While meeting Tara was undoubtedly the best part of your life, walking nonchalantly down a busy street at night without checking your shoulder regularly sounded pretty nice. Was it worth throwing your love for Tara away for? Absolutely not, yet you would be lying if you said there wasn't a little voice in the back of your mind that liked to remind you how every day your life could've been - especially after everything you've suffered, as if Woodsboro wasn't enough.

As if sensing your discomfort, Tara paused her conversation with her sister to glance at you worriedly, her eyes scanning your rigid posture and distant eyes moving too fast for her to track. She squeezes your hand to grab your attention as your eyes finally meet hers, your lone e/c eye standing out against its pale white counterpart. "You okay?" she whispers softly, her eyebrows creasing slightly. "Yeah," you sighed dejectedly, "just kinda wishing I had a normal life... you know, without all this Ghostface shit".

You watched as Tara's face fell slightly at your words, causing you to panic, "It's not your fault! I love you and everyone here. I just hate worrying about who will be alive in the morning." Her expression was slightly lifted as a small smile formed on her lips, but guilt continued to gnaw at her eyes. You could hear her whisper, "Yeah, I get it", as she briefly looked away to look at others a few metres ahead of you. She lets go of your hand with a comforting squeeze as she quickens with each step. "I'll be right back."

Watching as she walked off, a gentle hand on your shoulder pulled your attention from the small girl now talking to Mindy. "Did I say something?" you ask, knowing it was Sam standing next to you. "No, she just likes to run off sometimes," she jokes lightheartedly, a slight chuckle falling from your lips. "Tell me about it.". Mindy glances back at you as Tara approaches Chad and Danny. "She's a difficult girl to understand, but if there's one thing I know for sure, it's that she loves you. It's a little obsessive, honestly." Your cheeks flush as you look at Sam questionably, "Sam being sentimental? Never thought I'd live to see that." "Oh shut up" she shoves your shoulder playfully as a comfortable silence falls between the two of you.

Curious, you gaze at Tara as she returns to her position beside you, intertwining your hands without hesitation. You enquire softly, "What was that all about?" while she keeps her gaze fixed on the approaching station stairs. "Nothing. I just needed to talk to them about something.". Despite feeling it was about you, as said friends kept looking over their shoulders at you, you stopped yourself from pushing it.

As soon as you stepped foot in the station, you were greeted by an overwhelming influx of people, many of whom were dressed in Halloween costumes. Mindy steps back from the group in front to stand by your side as you take in your surroundings for the first time. Like you, she looks through the crowds, her expression more serious than you're used to on her. You excused her unusual behaviour until you both walked into someone who stared at you wide-eyed, horrified by your scar.

"What the fuck are you looking at?! Fuck off! Jeez... some people."

Now, you were the one who had to look at Mindy with wide eyes. This type of aggression was uncommon for the typically gentle and humorous girl, so the fact that she even displayed it, especially to defend you, it shocked you, to say the least. "Damn, Mindy… thanks," you muttered under your breath as Mindy returned your timid smile, "They deserved it."

Walking further onto the platform, the group waited momentarily whilst the train came to a stop and the doors opened. With tons of people trying to squeeze through the small doors to fit in the tiny space left on the packed train, it became a free-for-all. It happened in a blur; your hand separated from Tara's as Danny dragged her onto the train, leaving you and Mindy amongst the wave of people.

Amidst the chaos of people jostling your shoulders, your attention shifted away from Mindy's presence and focused solely on reaching a concerned Tara. Mindy's frustration became evident through the curse words she hurled at those around you. As you pushed your way towards your girlfriend, an obnoxious person dressed as Ghostface forcefully pushed you from behind, causing you to stumble onto the train and into Tara's embrace, the girl grunting softly at the impact. The echo of Mindy's furious tirade filled the air as you finally turned to witness her forcefully pulling off their mask.

Tucked in Tara's embrace, a soft chuckle escaped your lips at the scene before you. That was until the doors of the train started to close. "Shit… Mindy!" you exclaim, feeling a surge of guilt wash over you as you desperately try to reach the door, only to be held back by Tara. You watch Mindy's sudden realisation of the closing doors, a loud 'fuck' escapes her lips as she tries to navigate through the remaining crowd in her path.

The doors shut just as she's about to reach them.

You pound your fist against the door in frustration, mirroring the same exasperated look on Mindy's face. Grabbing your phone, you motioned for her to do the same through the glass as you texted her. The whine of the train starting to move fills your ears as Tara pulls you closer, her body wrapped around your free arm.

In the midst of all the chaos, it escaped your attention that Ethan had also managed to miss the train, although you couldn't quite fathom how. Your phone dings with a text from Mindy. "She's taking the train right after us with Ethan," you inform the group, slipping your phone into your back pocket and releasing a quiet sigh.

"She'll be okay. She's Mindy." Tara comforts you softly, gently stroking your arm as you gaze down at her, nodding in response. You embraced your girlfriend in a tender and heartfelt hug. You were burdened with guilt. You're not sure where this sudden protective nature had come from, and although your heart felt some relief knowing that she cared, you couldn't help but feel responsible for it.

She was protecting you, and look where that got her.

Letting go of Tara, you gently kissed her forehead and intertwined your hand with hers. Until now, you were completely absorbed in your thoughts, oblivious to the tension brewing within the group. Taking your gaze off your girlfriend, the source of said discomfort became obvious.

Ghostface.

Everywhere.

"Oh, what the fuck" you cursed as Tara's grip on your hand tightened. Everywhere you looked, there were individuals wearing the costume that perpetually plagued your nightmares, and their unwavering gazes seemed to be fixated on you. "Why are there so many of them?" Chad asked, his frustration evident in his voice as he, too, grew tired of encountering the same pale mask wherever he went.

Everyone's faces are ridden with anxiety. "How many stops do we have?" Tara inquired with a heightened sense of urgency, eager to get off the train just like the rest of you. Sam gazes at the map, undoubtedly internally pleading that it's not too many. Looking back at the group, she hesitates slightly, revealing the news couldn't be good. "Ten", she speaks solemnly. Tara's eyes are filled with concern as you exchange worried glances, causing your heart to race at an abnormal speed.

The subway lights start flickering, intensifying the eerie atmosphere inside the train. Your vision, already impaired, struggled to follow every Ghostface amidst the flickering lights. It became nearly impossible for you to keep track of them, adding to the waves of anxiety that were rushing over you.

As the train came to a halt, the lights flickered into a steady glow, and a voice over the intercom announced your arrival at 79th Street. In a matter of seconds, as you glanced down the carriage, your gaze met that of one of the masked individuals. Your face fell. A sense of fear filled the air, your breath catching in your throat as both of you remained motionless, captivated by the piercing gaze of those intense black eyes.

As if they had never been there, your intense gaze was interrupted when they vanished behind someone getting on the train. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach as you scanned the area, desperately searching for any sign of them, but your efforts proved futile. The others remained clueless about what you just saw as the train started to move again, the lights resuming their irritating flickering.

You pulled Tara closer to you as the carriage grew dim, the silhouettes of your friends becoming the only discernible shapes in the darkness. With a tender embrace, she places her hand on your back, tracing soothing circles that bring you a sense of calm. You locked your gaze on the floor as the cabin continued to flicker around you.

"This is 72nd Street", the announcer speaks monotonously, the train coming to a stop as you look up from the floor, noticing your girlfriend's concerned gaze directed towards you. Attempting to avoid her gaze, your sight lands back on the Ghostface from before, again staring daggers at you. You try to maintain an equally stern gaze, which you manage until they start moving towards you at pace.

"Guys", you quickly inform the others about the imminent danger. The atmosphere instantly tense up as all eyes fixate on the approaching figure. Tara and Chad both step forward to protect you. The Ghostface suddenly stops right in front of you, causing your friends to freeze in an effort to avoid giving away any reaction, just in case it's not the real killer.

Attacking a perfectly innocent person on a New York subway was the last thing you needed, especially with the rumours surrounding Sam.

With a sudden and effortless motion, the person in front of you removes their mask, making Chad flinch. Instead of those frightening black eyes, a teenage girl's soft brown eyes fixated on you, brimming with a curious intensity that seemed almost unhinged.

"Holy shit, your makeup is so good! I saw it from across the train, but, oh my god, it looks so much better up close. How did you do it?" she chirps out in excitement. You freeze, immediately recognising she is talking about your scar.

Your perfectly real scar.

You find yourself speechless, unable to form a response as the unexpected question catches you off guard. Without hesitation, the girl extends her hand towards your face, her fingers inching closer to your scarred face. Taken aback, you witness Chad's hand swiftly grasping the girl's wrist with a firm grip. The expression on the girl's face is filled with surprise, whilst Chad displays determination.

"Get away from her before I make you." Your eyebrows raise slightly at his words, your lips quirked into a small smile as you revelled in your friends' newfound sense of protectiveness.

It made you feel human again.

You softly thank Chad, who gives you a curt nod and a smile as your face lights up with a smile that hadn't adorned your lips for many days. Since Ghostface's return, your life has been completely turned upside down. Your friends began to turn against you as the blame game singled you out as its victim, tearing apart the very essence of your being.

However, at this moment, as you bear the marks of your past and the lasting impact it has had on you, a newfound determination surges through your veins as you observe the individuals surrounding you.

These were your people. Your family.

You were determined to go to any lengths to protect them, even if it meant sacrificing yourself for their sake.

With your hands still interlocked, you finally emerge from the sweaty train and lead the way up the stairs, closely followed by Tara and the others. You quicken your pace up the weathered stairs, your gaze searching for a blonde who had agreed to meet you here. A voice you recognise calls to you as you reach the peak of the staircase. "Hey," you hear her say, your eyes meeting Kirby's as you shift your gaze towards the woman.

As she approaches, she effortlessly inserts herself into the group, seamlessly blending in as you all make your way towards the theatre. "I've talked to Bailey. I've got everything set up," she explains before noticing the lack of numbers in the group. "Where are Mindy and Ethan?" she asks, her voice tinged with a mixture of worry and suspicion. Clenching your jaw slightly at the reminder of the people you left behind, Tara jumps in to respond, "They're five minutes behind us."

"Let's get you all inside.", Kirby speaks, nodding in response before she redirects her attention to the theatre, which is now just a few steps in front of you. As the dilapidated structure looms before you, its imposing presence casts a shadow over the group. Everyone's steps come to a halt as Sam directs her attention towards Danny. "Not you."

Turning towards them, you watch as shock comes over Danny's face, "What?" he says, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Don't trust anyone, remember?" Sam speaks softly yet assertively. "We don't know you. Not really.". His face contorted with hurt as he leaned towards Sam. "You know me," he said, trying to convince her to let him protect her.

"You're not Woodsboro. I'm sorry." Whilst you felt bad for Danny, despite knowing that Sam would never willingly let anyone protect her, the revelation that being part of Woodsboro meant you were trusted filled a small part in your heart that you weren't aware was missing.

Releasing Tara's hand, you gently wrap your arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as you watch the interaction. Unbeknownst to you, a small smile graces Tara's lips, a sign that she's starting to see the return of the girl she loves after the emotional and physical turmoil you've both endured over the past few days.

"It's okay. It's okay, I get it." Danny finally speaks up. "Be safe, okay?" he pleads Sam, leaning in and kissing her cheek tenderly while delicately caressing her arms. Sam's face reveals a hint of guilt as she replies, "You too." before swiftly turning around and continuing walking. The rest of you cast sympathetic glances at Danny before joining the girl on the way to the theatre.

"Good call."

As Kirby unlocks the doors with a reverberating clank, a surge of nervousness courses through you as the doors swing open, revealing the dimly lit theatre. With Tara clinging tightly to your side, a sense of unease washes over you as you cautiously enter the room, fully aware of the gravity of the situation. "I cleared the whole place before you got here. This is the only way in or out." Despite your best efforts to pay attention, Kirby's words seemed to go unnoticed as you surveyed the familiar surroundings, a sense of unease growing within you.

"So, this is the only way in or out. He steps in through the first door, both doors lock automatically, trapping him inside. We turn it into a kill box." Kirby continues to explain enthusiastically, clearly entertained by the fact that this is finally her chance to bring one of these psychos to justice. "Weapons?" Sam questions. "One gun and I hold onto it." Sam gives Kirby a disapproving look, but before she can say anything, Kirby interrupts her, "I'm the only one with a badge here. That's the way it's going to be. We're safe here."

As much as you want to believe what she says, this was Ghostface you were dealing with. Despite the lingering uncertainty, you made an honest attempt to maintain trust in the plan's success, not only for your own sake but also for the sake of the others, particularly Tara.

"I'm gonna check in with Mindy. See if they're close." Sam interrupts, breaking the suspenseful silence that had fallen amongst the group. As Sam walks away and Chad follows, Tara squeezes your hand for your attention. "Come with me?" "Of course", you reply softly. She guided you to the old confectionary stand, a room that had unexpectedly become an escape for the two of you, as it felt like the only safe spot in the entire building.

Besides, it was Tara. You would follow her wherever she went.

"When was the last time anybody used this place? It's so old," Tara comments as you walk through the door. Although not well-maintained, the room decor still manages to evoke a strange sense of comfort as you softly chuckle at her words. "Yeah," you respond softly as you both make your way to the counter, gently letting go of Tara's hand and resting your elbows on it.

As you spot an old box of Milk Duds across the counter, your hand instinctively reaches out to grab them, only for your hands to collide with the girls next to you. A faint blush tinges on your cheeks as her hand pulls back, causing a soft chuckle to escape your lips, "I-I'm sorry, you can have them". You apologise, holding the box towards her, a hint of nervousness evident as you gently bite your lower lip. She pushes your hand back towards you with a slight smirk. "Take them."

"No, I mean…" you stuttered, her touch sending a shiver down your spine as you savoured the rare moment alone you'd shared with her for a while. "If you want them, you have them," you eventually finish. "You think I want these?" she chuckles, prompting a shared embarrassed laughter between the two of you. Your eyes lock, smiles forming on your faces, entirely captivated by each other. "Kind of", you joke, raising your eyebrows at her. "They're like a hundred years old. Maybe that's your thing."

Your soft laughter trails off into a comfortable silence as you look down at your hands, your heart racing, but this time from a much more pleasant catalyst. "I really missed you. I don't know why I told you to back off." You smiled gently at her, tears starting to well in your eyes. "I was so stupid. This whole time, all I really needed was you."

The more she spoke, the more flustered you got. Instead of enjoying the sentiment, you couldn't help but let your mind destroy it.

You're different from the person she is talking about.

She fell in love with the girl whose face wasn't mutilated and would probably scare off young kids. Whilst Tara and your friends could look past it, understanding the trauma you had gone through, you would never be able to walk down the Street without being met with horrified gazes from every direction. And even though Tara would undoubtedly try to protect you from it, you were convinced that her efforts would be futile.

"I'm not the same anymore," you said dimly. Tara frowned at you, gently taking hold of your trembling hand. "What do you mean?" "I just... someone mistook me for a Halloween costume for fucks sake... I'm not the same, and I never will be." You speak, deliberately avoiding eye contact with your girlfriend, as if her reaction would confirm the truth behind your words.

She could never see you the same.

Instead, her delicate touch caressed your cheeks, mindful of your scar, as she tenderly lifted your gaze towards her. Your teary eyes met hers as she looked at you with a tender smile. "Y/n... scar or no scar, you are still the same girl I fell in love with. Nothing will ever take you away from me, especially a scar that makes you look pretty badass if you ask me." you chuckle at her words, a few stray tears escaping, which she gently wipes away.

"I love you," she says, her gaze locked with yours, ensuring her words reach you. "I love you too," you speak with a chuckle, leaning closer to her as she wraps her hands around your neck and draws you in. The moment your lips connect, it feels like heaven. The taste of her lips is a sweet revelation, and you plan to savour every moment. The room seems to blur as the outside world dissolves, leaving only the two of you. The warmth between you intensifies, and a current of desire courses through your veins. Sinking deeper into the kiss, you wrap your arms around her waist, squeezing her tightly as your lips begin to move.

As you tried to deepen the kiss, a sudden jolt of pain shot through your scar, causing you to pull back. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to suppress the pain, you eventually look towards your girlfriend apologetically as she looks at you worried. "Sorry," you chuckle lightly, "It's... still a little tender." You offer the girl a gentle smile as her hands glide down to your hips. "Don't say sorry. We'll just take it slow." Her seductive gaze locks with yours, setting your senses ablaze and causing a familiar blush to creep onto your cheeks. Briefly taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you lean in again. Nothing else mattered at this moment.

Or so you thought.

As your lips are seconds away from colliding, Tara's body is slammed into you as a scream erupts from her throat. Your eyes go wide in panic as you scream her name, only to see Ghostface standing behind her with a knife in her back. She is ripped from your grip as she is thrown to the ground. Although your instincts told you to help her, the masked individual who was now staring straight at you told you otherwise.

Without warning, their knife comes swinging towards you. Taking a swift step back, you barely dodge the blade as they go to swing again, their arm colliding with you. With a grunt, you harshly grip their arm before pulling them around you and throwing them into the wall. The shattering of glass from the poster frame intensifies the chilling encounter as another swing of the knife inches dangerously close to your face. Dodging the swing, you swiftly regained your footing and delivered a powerful punch to the psycho's face. As your fist made contact with their chin, they crumpled to the ground. As the cries of Tara echo in your ear, in a fit of anger, you direct your attention towards their fallen form and deliver a forceful kick to their stomach.

Frantically realising that there was little time they would be on the ground, you swiftly pivoted and rushed to your girlfriend's side, urgently helping her to her feet and guiding her towards the door. With a sudden burst, the door swings open, startling you as Sam and Chad's faces, filled with terror, appear on the other side, their expressions clearly reflecting the echoes of Tara's bone-chilling scream. They quickly notice your dire situation and urgently drag you from the room.

"Come on, go, go, go!" Sam screams as you run out of the room, and Chad slams the door behind you. "It's Kirby! She's the killer!" Sam yells at you, "No shit!" you scream back, desperate to get out of this place. Running towards the caged exit, you grip its rusted bars and pull at it desperately. "That's locked. Come on". Your face falls further, "Are we trapped?" you yell in disbelief. "She made the whole theatre the kill box. For us."

"Hey, what about that? There's an exit door." Tara directs everyone's attention to an opening on the roof, positioned just above a set of scaffolding. "Maybe it leads to the roof or something," you suggest, looking at your girlfriend, who nods in agreement. "There's only one way to find out. Let's go." Chad quickly takes the lead, leading the group towards your potential escape route.

"Bailey's on the way, but-" Sam's words are abruptly interrupted as Ghostface unexpectedly pounces on you from the shadows of the stage. Tara frantically tries to evade the swinging knife, ending up on the floor in an attempt to do so. Unfortunately, you are unable to do the same as the blade slices the side of your arm. You firmly grasp the wound on your arm as you clench your jaw in pain. You watch as the Ghostface continues to swing at Chad and Sam before Chad manages to tackle them onto the floor.

"Y/n! Come on." you hear your girlfriend exclaim, her voice filled with urgency, as you catch sight of her and Sam moving towards the stage. You swiftly move as Chad forcefully slams an old movie camera into their masked face, causing their head to snap back and hit the ground with a resounding thud.

Chad follows you with the camera in hand as you join the girls backstage, both of them looking around frantically for an exit. "This way! Come on!" Tara's voice echoes through the air as she swiftly dashes towards a small tunnel backstage. You eagerly trail behind her along the narrow path, acutely aware of the ominous footsteps of Ghostface closing in from behind. Until now, your lack of vision in one eye hadn't posed much of a problem. Yet, as you sprinted through the narrow pathway, you kept crashing into the walls while Chad struggled to guide you in the right direction.

As you cast a quick glance over your shoulder, a chilling realisation washes over you - Ghostface is steadily closing in. "Fuck, they're fast," you exclaimed, as Chad also realised their proximity. "Get fucked", he shouted as he made the quick decision to hurl the bulky camera at them, immediately slowing them down.

With the additional advantage, you all made it back into the confectionary area as Chad threw the popcorn machine behind you. They quickly push it out of the way as you all turn around to face them. With a slight tilt of their head, they launch a series of aggressive swings towards you and Chad.

The knife narrowly misses both of you as you attempt to position yourselves for some kind of counterattack. Swinging down at Chad, he manages to grab their arm as you grab their shoulders, throwing them back onto the counter. Sam and Tara swiftly seize their arms, desperately trying to subdue them, while you deliver a decisive blow to their face, sending them crashing to the ground once more. As they fall to the ground, Tara quickly runs up to them and boots them in the face.

You couldn't help but think how hot it was.

"Go! Go!" Chad exclaims, swiftly grabbing the old bubblegum dispenser from the counter. With a determined gaze, he raises it above his head, preparing to deliver a decisive blow to Ghostface. Tara and Sam guide you away from him, leading you towards the door, expecting him to join you momentarily.

His piercing screams quickly disrupt the plan, causing everyone to turn their heads in disbelief. Your jaws hang open in shock as you see another Ghostface standing beside him, clutching a knife pierced in his side. "No! Chad!" Tara screams, sending a shiver down your spine. With Sam holding her back, you watch in suspense as the two masked figures surround Chad and lift him up to his knees.

They absolutely butchered him.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you witnessed the relentless onslaught. You watched him get stabbed over and over and over again as if it was never going to end. You were frozen to your spot. He somehow mustered up the strength to tell you to run, but no one could move. "Go," he sputters out, his determination to save the rest of you clear. In a swift and chilling motion, the Ghostfaces allow his lifeless form to crumple to the ground. With synchronised precision, they wipe their blades clean, sending a shiver down your spine.

Finally getting over your shock, you immediately grabbed the two sisters and dragged them out of the door. "This way. Up here. Come on." Sam directs your pointless running as she tries to get you both backstage. Before you can make it, one of the Ghostfaces pounces from behind the screen. Instinctively turning around, you are stopped immediately as the second Ghostface traps you, waving their knife mockingly.

You're surrounded. Whipping your head back and forth, you watch as they both close in on you, the tension in the air palpable. Thinking quickly, Sam assesses the situation with a determined glint in her eyes. Without hesitation, she swiftly grabs some bricks from the debris-laden floor, handing one to you and another to Tara. In that instant, a silent understanding passes between you - do anything to survive.

As Sam moves the two of you so that you find yourselves back to back, forming an impromptu defensive triangle, the weight of the brick in your hand provides an unexpected but reassuring comfort. The cold surface of the brick grounds you, grounding your resolve as you prepare to face whatever unfolds.

"Ready?" Sam asks, and you swiftly reply, although Tara's distressed cries hinder her ability to respond, overwhelmed by panic and fear. "I need you to be ready. Ready?" With your free hand, you firmly grasp Tara's, offering a comforting squeeze while she inhales deeply. Her hesitation overwhelms Sam, prompting her to urge Tara to look at her. As Tara meets her gaze, a newfound determination fills her voice as she declares, "I'm ready."

"Come on motherfucker!"

Just as the fight was about to begin, the deafening echoes of gunshots reverberated through the vast theatre, prompting an instinctive duck for cover. The ominous figures of the two Ghostfaces hastily retreat into the shadows, leaving an unsettling silence shattered only by your heavy breathing. In the dimly lit ambience, a figure emerges from the stage, and a collective gasp escapes the group as the familiar face of Kirby comes into focus, blood streaming down from a fresh wound on her temple.

"It's okay!" Kirby's voice rings out, a desperate attempt to reassure, though her pained expression reveals the gravity of the situation. The vivid red streams on her face contrast with her pale complexion, creating a chilling scene that leaves everyone motionless.

"Stay the fuck back!" Sam's voice pierces the tension, laced with a mix of fear and anger, earning a confused glance from Kirby, disoriented yet resolute. "We know it's you, Kirby," Tara adds, her tone unwavering as Kirby hesitantly approaches the group. "One of them knocked me out," Kirby pleads, her expression changing to one of desperation. Her eyes are genuine, making you want to trust her more, but your trust issues weren't easy to overcome.

"Kirby, stop!" A deep voice slices through the air, redirecting attention to Bailey, who strides into the theatre with a drawn gun, his gaze fixed on Kirby. "Get away from the girls!". The urgency in Bailey's command prompts an instinctive protective response as you push Tara behind you, eyes fixed on the unfolding standoff.

"What are you doing?" Kirby pleads desperately, the air thick with accusation and uncertainty. "Did you kill Quinn!? Did you kill my daughter!?" Bailey's vengeful glare intensifies, scaring the shit out of you.

He clearly wasn't afraid to kill for his kids.

"Jesus Christ!" Kirby exclaims, her eyes darting between you and the detective in disbelief. With her focus back on you, she pleads again, "Whatever he's been saying to you, don't listen to him." The desperation in her gaze transforms into one of resolve as she turns back to the man threatening her. "He's probably the killer," she speaks assertively.

Your gaze remains fixed on Bailey, his expression unwavering even as the damning accusation hangs in the air. Suddenly, the figure of Ghostface appears behind Bailey, and Kirby's frantic scream fills the space, warning him of the imminent threat, "Behind you!" she screams. Disregarding her desperate plea, Bailey swiftly pivots and unleashes three deafening gunshots that pierce through the air, each shot finding its mark, striking Kirby in the chest, and causing her to crumple to the ground.

The aftermath is a haunting symphony of laboured breaths and the lingering echoes of her cries. As your focus shifts back to the killers, you watch in horror as two Ghostfaces stand alongside Bailey, their presence casting a sinister pall over the unfolding chaos. The dim lighting accentuates their ominous figures, while Bailey, wearing a sadistic smirk, reveals himself as an orchestrator of this grim spectacle.

"Great job. Both of you."

"You?"

A palpable tension filled the air in the dimly lit theatre, engulfing you as the truth unravelled right before your eyes. "Yeah, of course me." Bailey teases with a smirk growing on his lips, "Frankly, I expected more from you two after what you did to us."

"What do you mean 'us'?" Tara questioned hesitantly. Bailey's smirk grew into an insufferable smile as he looked to his left, where one of his accomplices was moving to remove the mask. Your heart pounds inside your chest as the white face and black fabric are torn away, revealing your friend's face.

Ethan.

The seemingly unassuming roommate revealed himself with a sinister grin. "Ta-da!" Bailey laughs, finding the shock on all of your faces amusing. The sick look on Ethan's face made you want to puke, the revelation that someone you considered a friend had been out to kill you all along.

The feeling made Woodsboro feel like nothing. The two killers were Sam's boyfriend, whom you had hardly met and someone who you hated from the beginning.

It was nothing compared to seeing the real side of your friend.

With a smirk plastered on his lips, he begins to taunt you about how unsafe you were the whole time, "Mindy was right; it was easy to juke the roommate lottery. All I had to do to meet you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha, literally named Chad. Fuck it felt good to kill him.". You felt a surge of anger coursing through you as he spoke, causing your jaw to clench and your grip to tighten around the brick in your hand.

The idea of Ethan pretending to be his friend for months, only to have been plotting his demise the whole time without any hint of remorse, ignited an unbearable anger inside you.

"This one was your grandmother's Sam. Nancy Loomis?" Ethan smiles at Sam, pointing to his mask with his bloodied knife. "Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it? And speaking of family, my name isn't Ethan Landry, is it, Dad?"

"Dad?" Tara speaks for the rest of you, your faces growing more shocked. As the shock washes over you, your focus shifts to the second masked figure who still stands menacingly staring directly at you.

"But, if you're Ethan, that just leaves… Mindy?" Sam breathes out in disbelief. Your expression twisted in confusion as you looked back at the memories of how much Mindy had loved Anika. It seemed impossible, yet who else could it be?

Shock filled the room as Quinn removed her mask, leaving you all in stunned silence. "Hey, Roomies. Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"But you died?" Tara spoke, a hint of anger behind her voice. "Yeah, kinda didn't, though." Quinn quipped mockingly, "It was a good way to get off the suspect list, stab Gale Weathers, stab Mindy on the train, that sort of thing."

Bailey's proud smile made you feel sick as his proud eyes bore into yours, "I made sure I was first on the scene so I could switch her body out with a fresh one. You'd be surprised with what a grieving father can get away with."

Your anger was starting to burst at your seams, being played for fools and having someone come back from the dead to kill your friends, pulling very tight on your last nerve.

"I got Stu Macher's mask. He was my favourite.". You rolled your eyes at her giddy proclamation. Of course, he was.

Bailey, clearly the leader of this psychotic trio, took slow and calculated steps towards Sam. "Number three and number two. Which just leaves…" Pulling out the most weathered mask from his jacket, he holds it out towards Sam, his eyes menacing. "I'm gonna need you to put it on."

Sam stands tall and looks back at the man with a matching expression, slapping the mask out of his hand as you watch his jaw clench in anger. Ethan is quick to react and slashes his knife towards the girl, slicing through her upper arm with a hiss.

You are quick to catch Sam as she falls back into you. She quickly recovers as she grasps her arm, now dripping with a familiar crimson liquid. Bailey's two minions begin to move around you, circling you as your anger finally comes spewing out of you; you step in front of Sam with rage filling your eyes. "You did all this as a family?" you yell at them incredulously. "Hell yeah, bitch! Sam should know why better than anyone!"

You immediately knew they were talking about Billy, yet the true origin of their motive still escaped you. What family had Sam ever hurt for them to hate her so much to go on a murderous rampage?

"They still haven't figured it out. Maybe we overestimated them." Ethan mocked as the confusion was clearly evident on your faces. Sam was the most confused of all, knowing that she had never done anything wrong. "I don't know what you believe, but I didn't commit the murders in Woodsboro…"

Bailey's laugh fills the theatre, slightly offended that Sam would think that they would believe some stupid internet rumour. Instead, he reveals that it was, in fact, Quinn who had started the malicious rumours, making life in New York for Sam absolute hell.

Each time you think the betrayal couldn't run any deeper, they manage to beat themselves yet again.

"You're a killer, just like your father was.". "I'm not…". "Yes, you are, you motherfucker! You killed our brother!". The gears could finally tick inside your heads as you looked between each other in an attempt to connect the dots. As far as you were aware, the only person Sam had ever 'killed' was… Richie.

Oh shit.

"You're Richie's family?" The realisation also struck Sam as her face sank. "Ding-ding-ding, now she's finally getting it." You shook your head in disbelief. A family seeking revenge for their dead son, okay, sure. Seeking revenge for a murderous psycho by killing his victims who had killed him out of self-defence? Too far.

Yet clearly, nothing was too far for this family, as Ethan revealed the sickening detail that they had killed their own mother because she had refused to avenge Richie. You knew all Ghostfaces were, on some level, psychotic, but this was getting insane.

"Great job with the parenting…" Tara quipped at Bailey, her words bringing the tiniest of smiles to your lips, her sarcasm never failing to entertain you, even if it's whilst you are surrounded by killers.

"You shut your whore mouth!" Quinn screamed at the girl, your jaw clenching at the insult as you looked at her, infuriated. The temptation to throw the brick in your hand at her face almost overcame you until you felt a gentle hand on your wrist.

"I loved my son. So I helped him build this collection." You shifted your gaze towards the older man as he looked amongst the exhibitions with a reminiscent smile. "All of this is Richies?"

The more you seemingly find out about Richie, the more Sam's expression seems to fall. The guilt she had felt after Woodsboro was reborn as her ignorance about her then-boyfriend increased tenfold.

Knowing that this was all Richie's made the space somehow more bone-chilling than before. As your eyes scanned the numerous exhibits, filled with items that belonged in an evidence box somewhere, a part of you pangs with guilt for the other siblings who were clearly the least favourite.

"This is where you have to die." Your attention is brought back to him as he redraws his gun and points it directly at Sam. Instinctively grabbing for Tara's hand, you spare Sam a quick glance, noticing her expression shift as she tilted her head at the man.

Oh, he was fucked.

"He was pathetic, you know?". You watched the deadpan expression on Bailey's face break. "That's not true…" he shook his head. "He was a man-baby who made his girlfriend do almost all the killing." You had to hold back your smile as you watched his facade breakdown. "He was a strong, virile young man!" "He was a weak little bitch who cried before I cut his fucking throat."

As the words leave Sam's mouth, Quinn lunges towards the three of you with a bloodcurdling scream. She is quickly and effortlessly stopped as Tara clocks her in the face with her brick. With teeth and blood flying out of her mouth, she falls to the floor.

A sign that their moment is finally over, your senses are heightened as Act 3 appears to finally kick off. Before you can make any moves, gunshots ring out from behind you as you turn to see Kirby apparently coming back from the dead.

Her resurgence doesn't last long as Ethan quickly rushes towards her with his knife ready in his hand. You're quick to follow the boy as he reaches Kirby and stabs her in the stomach. Finally reaching them as Kirby falls to the ground in pain, you run straight into Ethan, throwing him into the ground. He quickly gets back up and runs away with a maniacal laugh as you shift your focus back to Kirby.

Noticing the knife still sticking out of her stomach, you look at her with a grimace as you realise it's the only way you're gonna get a weapon anytime soon. "Sorry, but I need this." She gives you a small nod as she squeezes her eyes shut.

Gripping onto the handle, you pull the knife out swiftly in an attempt to minimise her pain. She howls in pain, and her hand grips on your arm, her nails digging into your skin as the wave of pain washes over her. Finally relaxing, she opens her eyes back up and looks at you with a tiny smile.

"Fuck 'em up."

As you stand up, you see Ethan reappear from behind a wall, his eyes set on you. Turning towards him, he begins to charge towards you with a sick grin still plastered on his face. "What are you gonna do, scar-face…" he calls out mockingly as he closes in.

That made you snap.

With a new vigour burning inside of you, you lunge towards him as you pull the knife above your head. With a loud grunt, you drive the knife down into his chest. His smile finally washes over his face as he looks at you surprised. Ignoring it, you continue to pump your knife in and out of his chest as if he were a piece of meat, his blood splattering all over you, but you couldn't care less.

Out of breath, you push his limp body off of you as he keels down with blood sputtering out of his mouth. Standing still, you look at his blood-covered body with laboured breathing. Noticing he is still alive, you move to stab him again until you hear your girlfriend's voice from behind you.

"Y/n!" she calls, your head instantly turning in her direction as you notice her beginning to climb the scaffolding behind her sister. Taking your chance, you quickly run towards them, weaving in and out of the display cases before you reach the base of the scaffolding.

Looking for a place to hold your knife, you settle on wiping it off on your shirt, adding to the mural of crimson colours, before placing the knife between your teeth.

As you begin climbing, the gash in your arm aches as new blood begins to flow from the wound. Biting painfully onto the knife, you continue your ascent as you see Tara at the top, reaching her hand down to you. Hearing noise behind you, you turn your head as you watch Bailey and Ethan begin to circle you like sharks, smelling your blood.

With a final grunt, you reach the top and grab Tara's hand as she helps pull you towards the balcony. Watching the two sisters scale across it in front of you, you take the time to try and settle your breathing, which is easier said than done when you're clutching a knife between your teeth.

Moving to follow them, you take the knife out of your mouth and carefully hand it to Tara. Climbing carefully along the railing, you are seconds from making it to safety with the others before another shot rings through the air.

A burning sensation instantly erupts in your leg as you lose your balance and fall backwards. Screaming your name, Sam and Tara barely manage to catch you as your hands barely grip the slippery railing.

Peering over your shoulder, you watch as Bailey moves towards a set of stairs and Ethan moves to stand directly underneath you. "Shit. Not good," you whisper to yourself as your gaze returns to the sisters' terrified looks.

With your injured arm weakening by the second, a noise from the balcony catches your attention as Quinn appears behind Sam, brandishing a bloodied knife in her hand. As Quinn moves towards her, she is forced to let go of your arm, and she turns to face her.

With Ethan taunting you from below and Quinn and Bailey closing in on the girls, you overcome your panic and realise it's your life or theirs.

"Tara, let me go". Your words cause the girl to look at you in shock. “No, I-” “Tara! Let me go.”. Your grip continues to slip as she looks at you as if you have lost your mind.

"Tara… Please." you give her a small smile as she looks at you with tears in her eyes. You watch as her lips begin to quiver, and you feel her grip loosen. Giving her a nod, she finally lets go of your wrists, causing you to plummet down from the balcony.

Turning your attention to the killer below you, you land with a loud bang, and your injured leg collapses beneath you. In an instant, Ethan is plunging his knife into your stomach, a meek whine escaping your lips as you bend over his arm. Twisting his knife inside of you, your loud cru echoes through the theatre as tears threaten your eyes.

Finally, bringing your head up to look at the boy, his smile sent a shiver down your spine as your breathing became more and more laboured. Just as you thought your time was coming to an end, another figure comes falling down from above you.

It was Tara.

Before you can say anything, she lands on her feet with a knife in her hand. Catching Ethan off-guard, she grips his hair and rips his head back. Looking at her with his mouth open, she lifts up her knife and plunges it into the back of his throat. You can hear him gargling on his own blood as she twists the knife, blood splattering on her face.

"Now die a fucking virgin."

Pushing him so that he falls to the ground with a thud, Tara quickly averts her attention back to you, who, to her surprise, was wearing a smirk on her lips. "That was really hot." you chuckled in pain as she kneeled down next to you, noticing the knife was still in your abdomen.

"Shut up," she said before moving to lie you down. Knowing she was about to pull it out, you exhaled shakily before nodding at her, and just like you did Kirby, she pulled the knife out quickly, earning a pained groan from you, before immediately applying pressure to your wound.

Gently removing her hand from your stomach, you move to sit up and attempt to ignore how her hand is now stained with your blood. Making into an upright position, you look at Tara, who is scanning you for any other wounds, whilst you watch her face with a tender gaze.

The bang of a gunshot, followed by the thud of a body that vibrated the creaky floors above your head, brought you both back to the situation you were in. "Help me up," you say quickly, urgently trying to get up and help Sam, presuming it wasn't her body that you heard fall.

As Tara wrapped her arm around your waist gently, she pulled you to your feet; the faint sound of Sam's voice talking to someone calms your nerves. The throbbing from your bullet and stab wound was a rude awakening as to the shape you were in, not to mention the blood that covered almost every inch of your body.

Before the two of you could move towards the stairs, the sound of screaming rang through the theatre as you both looked up. Your jaw dropped. Bailey and Sam came flying over the railing before plummeting into the displays beneath them. As the glass shattered beneath them, you were quick to notice their lack of movement.

Pulling Tara off of you, you pushed her towards her sister. Running to her side, you hobbled as fast as you could towards them. Thankfully, Tara had managed to shake her awake by the time you got there. As she helped Sam to her feet, you sighed in relief as you looked over at a still motionless Bailey.

As the sisters check over each other, your sights remain on the unconscious killer in front of you. "What are we gonna do about him?" you ask, nodding your head in his direction.

You watch as the gears turn in Sam's head, weighing the options between ending it now and letting him die somewhat peacefully or giving him a taste of his own medicine.

She chose the latter.

Hidden behind the curtains on the side of the stage, you watched Bailey through a small slit, waiting for him to move in order to signal Sam that your plan was in action.

It was simple, really. Make him go crazy, and then you kill him.

After a few minutes, Bailey finally began to stir as he moved to sit up. You quickly poked your head around the corner into the hidden hallway, where Sam was standing in her father's costume; you gave her a nod before she pulled a phone out of her pocket and pulled it to her ear.

The sound of Bailey's phone ringing echoed through the now disturbingly quiet theatre. Repositioning yourself so that you can see him, you watch as he rapidly looks around him before standing and bringing his phone to his ear.

You can't hear what Sam is saying to him, but you watch him make his way to the stage as planned. "Oh yeah, what's that?" his voice grows louder as he finally appears on the stage.

Now, the fun part.

As planned, from your place on the ground, you reached your uninjured leg out and kicked a floorboard. Before you could even retract your leg, Bailey snapped towards the noise and fired two precise shots into the heads of the mannequins that lined the stage.

"You put on your true face, huh? Your birthright. Poetic that you're going to die in it…" Exhaling quietly as he spoke, you moved to a spot against a wall where you could relax your weakening body for a minute as Tara played her part.

A noise sounded from the other side of the stage. Closing your eyes as you leaned your head back onto the wall, you listened as Bailey once again flinched and fired his gun, this time the sound of shattering glass filling the stage.

"You know the truth now. Murder's in your blood."

It was your turn again. As quietly as you could in your state, you reached your arm over to the brick that Sam had given you. Picking it up, with the strength left in your arms, you threw it into the back corner of the stage, away from you.

The sound of Bailey's gun firing once again filled the air as he screamed frustratedly, "Stop fucking around and show yourself!". Knowing that it was Sam's turn, you quietly crawled towards the curtain, pulling it aside slightly so that you could peer through.

"I'm a fucking police officer! What are you gonna do, huh? Who do you think they're gonna believe?" he screams once again. A faint smile lands on your lips as you watch Sam appears behind him, wearing the mask and all. Before he even notices her presence, she quickly spins him around before, as you would put it, stabbing the shit out of him.

As crazy as it sounded to say, the sound of his screams was like music to your ears. His family had singlehandedly taken everything from you, so watching him suffer was like heaven to you.

Spotting Tara appear from behind her hiding spot and walking towards Sam, you decided to do the same. With a groan and the help of a wall, you pulled yourself to your feet before weakly hobbling out from your place behind the curtains.

As Sam finally stops stabbing him, and he pleads for his life, you watch with a mixture of admiration and concern, confused as to why she is giving him any chance to live.

She didn't entertain it for long.

"But you did fuck with my family, so…". You watch with wide eyes as Sam gruesomely stabs him straight in his eye, the blade clearly reaching his brain as he falls to the ground, twitching.

"Aw, now we're matching." you joke, earning a laugh from the girls as you look at the mutilated body of the once detective who now also had only one functional eye - had he been alive, that is.

"Let's get out of here," Tara says softly as she grasps your hand with hers. Her touch never fails to make you giddy, but something was off this time. As she tried to pull you towards the stairs off the stage, your head began to spin uncontrollably as a wave of nausea hit you like a truck.

Your legs collapse underneath you as Tara catches you, her face ridden with worry. "Y/n?!? Hey, you're okay, just breathe.". Your vision was fading in and out of a blur as the feeling of your limbs began to escape you. Sam kneels down on the other side of you, matching Tara's expression, as you try to nod to Tara's words.

"Yeah… I just… need a little break." Your eyes begin to flutter shut as you try your best to keep them open. "Keep your eyes open for me, okay," Tara speaks as calmly as she can as she notices the blood beginning to spill from your wounds again.

“Yeah… of course…”

Opening your eyes slowly, you groan softly as the bright light hanging above you stings your eyes. Carefully rubbing your eyes, still careful of your scar, you move to sit up slightly, noticing you are in an empty hospital room. Confusion washes over you, as last you remember, you were on a bloodied stage, and yet here you were.

Doing your best with your aching limbs, you move a pillow behind your back in order to give you a better view of your new environment, admittedly much nicer than your previous one.

Scanning the room, you notice the small TV in the corner of the room is playing The Babadook. You know you didn't put it on, so someone must be here, and it's not particularly hard to figure out who it must be.

With your attention focused on the screen, you fail to notice when Tara walks in the door with a bag of chips in her hand. As she notices your moving figure, a loud gasp escapes her lips. She drops everything in her hands to cover her mouth, her eyes immediately watering.

The sound makes you immediately turn to her, a smile growing on your lips as your eyes meet hers. As the fact that you are awake and alive sinks in, she runs over to the side of your bed and brings her hands up to your face.

Gently cupping your cheeks, her teary eyes look into yours as your hands gently grip her wrists. "Hi," you chuckle softly, the wave of relief finally hitting you. "Hi," she chuckles back even softer, her eyes scanning every detail of your face.

"Is everyone okay?" you ask with furrowed brows as she nods enthusiastically in response. "Yeah, yeah, we're all fine.". The sigh that escapes your lips rids your mending body stress, all of it melting away as soon as you know you have all made it.

Your eyes return to Tara's as she whispers softly, "I can't believe you're alive.". You smile sincerely at her words. "I'm not going anywhere." At your words, she lets go of your face and climbs onto your bed. Your eyes were filled with curiosity. You watch as she wraps her arms around your neck and buries her head in your shoulder.

Instantly reciprocating, you wrap your arms around her waist and hug her with all the strength you can muster. You can feel her tears falling onto your bare shoulder, entangling one of your hands in her hair as you gently play with her hair.

"We made it, Tara. We made it."

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