Scream: Do You Think You Can Unmask The Devil?

Pilot Pt. 3

"BZZZT!" My phone shook again. This time I clicked the left option which was the button to answer a call. "Damn it, who the hell is this and what do you want?" I hollered irritatedly.

"Hello Cynthia, I'm your worst nightmare... And what I want, you can only pay for in your blood." The deep, filtered voice murmured as the expression of utter shock completely took hold of my face.

~PRESENT~

After holding my phone in a downward position for a bit, I lifted it back close to my left ear. "Look, mother, brother, or whoever the hell is playing this sick game; call my phone again and you're dead." Cynthia rants as she clicks decline on the caller. Even without knowing who that could've been, it still leaves her feeling uneasy.

~MEANWHILE~

Folasade walks back towards the lunch room seat she had been sitting in. Her phone displays a caller screen that has just left a call. "Welcome back, who was that by the way?" Zenobia asks while eating her salad. "It was...m-my grandpa. He's worried about my grandma, she's really sick with stage four cancer. So, it's been very hard for him." Folasade stumbled. "I'm so sorry to hear that. My condolences to your grandparents and you of course." Zenobia holds her shoulder, showing off an enormous grin on her face to cheer her up.

"Thanks. Yo, where did Cynthia go? I didn't expect her to take this long on the toilet." Fola remarks while shouldering it off like it's nothing. "Yeah, you're right. I believe she went into the ladies room. I'm going to check on her." Zenobia lifts from her seat to walk over to the restroom. "Well, aren't you coming?" Zeno asks Folasade, who seems very unbothered. "Nope." She quickly responds while plopping a piece of chicken into her mouth comically. "Why not? Aw, is Fola afraid to make new friends?" Zenobia teases. "No, it's because she's a bitch! Plus, I never signed up to be her friend."  "She could seriously be in some sort of trouble. So tone down the name-calling." Despite Zenobia's words, Fola wouldn't budge. "(Chuckles irritatedly) You know it's funny actually because the only one being a bitch right now is you. Now suck up the pride; the old you is showing." Zenobia stomps away, leaving Fola with a frowned look on her face.

~FLASHBACK~
~November 15, 2017~
~Jefferson Junior High~

Folasade (who appeared years younger with a mini natural puffed up afro) steps into her seventh grade earth science studies classroom and silently takes her seat. Her legs appeared to be very bruised with several darkening marks down her thighs. Her face was also very swollen with one side of her lip pluffing up.

Mr. Holmes, biology/science theorist and teacher, always noticed these bruises, but due to his implicit bias he never cared to write any complaints or even talk to her about the issue. This deep, unexplained hate for particular racial groups started when he once dated and married a beautiful Indian (colored) woman. Her family was more strict and agreed with the old fangled side of things, so they didn't really approve of her marriage with him. After a couple of years, the two fell off due to miscommunication and animosity he had built up inside towards her.

She currently is employed at Hendrickson High as the main coach for girl's athletics, and is the secondary coach for the female sports that take place as co-curricular activities for many young ladies.

No matter how many skirts Fola would be clothed in daily, he still didn't acknowledge the idea of her abuse and/or terrible home life. After weeks of accepting this type of treatment, Folasade eventually stopped trying to seek that attention she desperately desired.

Throughout her school days, she would avoid speaking to others. When she did, she was very ill-mannered, impudent, and blunt which got her in a lot of trouble. It was when she realized she had no hope for anyone to take the initiative to give her the help she wanted, that she let herself sink. Sink into a darkness and disconsolate state one would describe as a self-made hell.