Scream 1 [✓]

Chapter 21

The sounds of padded feet hit the wet grass.

A girl who looked the age of around seventeen was limping with urgency.

Chasing her was a figure cloaked in pitch black, perfectly blending in with the darkness of the night. Their footsteps stomped on the ground and their ragged robes fluttered behind them.

The hollowed-out, fabricated eyes of their mask were glued to the teenage girl.

The only option she had left was to hide behind a nearby brick wall. After losing sight of the maniac who was chasing her, she quickly resumed her sprint towards the vehicle she'd spotted earlier, hoping to find someone who could help her.

-

Shaking overcame your body, your skin growing pale and cold as the raindrops did't stop falling on your skin, dripping down your cheeks slowly, like tears.

After making sure the killer wasn't hiding anywhere nearby, you limped to the Jeep that had its door open and hopped in, reaching for the ignition only to find there were, of course, no keys.

Just then, your eyes shot to the front porch. You watched as the front door eerily creeped open with a creak and a person appeared.

With your anxiety already through the roof, you threw on the headlights to illuminate the front side of the house, revealing none other than Deputy Dewey standing in the doorway.

You eased back out of the vehicle but not before taking the small hand gun with you that was just sitting on the passenger's seat.

Moving towards Dewey apprehensively, you noticed his body.

His knees buckled weakly and he slumped, his body falling forward slowly and deliberately, hitting the stone porch below him with a thud.

Standing directly behind him was Ghostface.

You squeaked in shock, mouth falling wide open. It took seconds for your mind to catch up on what just happened.

You jumped back into the Jeep, closing the door and locking it. But in your panicked state, you didn't think further than that.

Ever so slowly, your horrified (E/C) eyes climbed back up and up to see Ghostface just leaning over Dewey's still body, fumbling with something.

Then he stood upright, holding the keys of the car in his hand that jingled in the wind before the killer tossed them up and down tauntingly, enjoying your current predicament as he cocked his masked face to the side, observing you from afar.

You balled your hand that wasn't holding the gun into a fist and helplessly hit the steering wheel over and over again. "FUCK!"

You tilted your head back against the head rest of the car, mulling over your nightmarish situation. You were still dizzy from the fall so it was hard to form any coherent thoughts.

Where was everyone?

Heaving your chest, you dared to peek into the direction of the open doorframe that was now empty. There was no way of getting away no matter how much you wanted to, because the killer had the car keys.

You glanced at the black hand gun in your hand, hesitantly unlocking the door and stepping out.

You heard a soft sound coming from inside the house. That was when you realized.

Randy.

With a groan, you held the pistol tightly and limped all the way up to the porch, every step you take feeling heavier than the last.