Scream 3 [✓]

Chapter 21

*BANG!*

The still smoking gun clattered to the ground, landing inches away from the person who had been wielding it. The last thing Roman did was tear the fabric of his robes using both his hands, revealing a bullet proof vest before he collapsed, his body completely limp.

There was a brief moment of panic when you couldn't breathe as you merely watched the blood-covered blade slipping out of your weakening hands, clattering to the floor.

Was it supposed to feel this cold?

Just like that, after having had a taste of what it was like to end someone's life, you now lost control over your own body, no matter how hard you tried to stay upright.

You fell backwards but didn't hit the floor because two strong arms caught you before you could. Gazing upwards, you saw Billy's face in a way you'd never seen it before.

The switch in Billy flipped and his deep, brown eyes that had been filled with bloodlust and satisfaction just seconds ago, were now growing red from the wetness gathering in them.

He was mouthing something to you in a panic, but you couldn't hear what he said.

It was as if someone had pressed a mute button on your surroundings. The pressure in your head was making you feel faint as wooziness was getting to your head, and the only thing you could hear was your own raging heartbeat.

When his hand appeared in your vision, it was completely coated in warm, dark liquid as you recognized the copper smell of blood.

Your blood.

Roman had shot you right before he died.

Your own were filling in tears as you gasped in a frantic breath, coughing at the tightening feeling that assaulted your throat.

Were you... Dying?

You were horrible at lip reading but you could barely make out a 'don't you fucking die on us'.

Your eyes were starting to feel heavier by the minute as you felt Billy effortlessly scoop you up in his arms before running after Stu, who sprinted down with a speed only someone with an athletic background could possess.

You lacked the strength to even do as much as lift your head to see where you had been shot, and the adrenaline no longer masked the pain that came from your chest area.

The house suddenly felt like it was a thousand degrees with how hot your skin felt and you couldn't get any words out.

Billy brought you to the car, his heart beating louder than what was healthy.

He seated himself in the backseat with you clutched so tightly to his body as if you'd slip away between his fingers if his grip loosened just the tiniest bit.

Stu threw several towels at him to tie the wound up, which was already drenched in blood in the matter of seconds.

Surprisingly, Stu had taken on the role of driver and he appeared more level headed than Billy, but his own reddening face betrayed him and he seemed like he was as close to passing out as you are.

Billy had to bark at him several times during the ride to the hospital to keep his eyes on the road because Stu kept checking on you, hitting the gas faster each time when he saw how pale you were getting.

You fought with all the strength you had left to stay conscious for them.

You were scared. So scared. Not of dying, but of leaving your boys. There was no telling what they would do if you were gone.

When the car parked at the nearest hospital, you couldn't fight it anymore and succumbed to your blood loss by passing out.

The two had quickly discarded their robes and didn't bother cleaning themselves up.

If they looked suspicious and the cops were called, so be it. They would happily be locked up in prison if that meant you would live.

They were murderers. They had no problem with taking people's lives and got sick enjoyment out of it.

But they couldn't stomach the sight of your unconscious body being lifted up on a stretcher as an oxygen mask was put on your face, before you were escorted further inside where they couldn't see you anymore.

Fortunately for them, no one was alerted by the blood they had on them when they explained you'd been shot by a stranger on the street.

It was a complete fucking lie of course—not to mention obvious— but hey, people were dumb enough to buy it.

"You think she's gonna pull through?" Stu asked, his tone a sad, negative intonation and his complexion stained with depression and disbelief.

He was aware that he sounded pathetic, but just didn't care. His heart was weighed with grief and hurt while he was leaning against the hood of the car next to Billy, who sat directly on top of it with his elbows on his knees and his fingers in his hair, his brows drawn together.

There were no silly jokes this time around. No bickering, no arguing, nothing.

All Billy could think about was that it should have been him who recieved the bullet, and not you. He'd seen you dying in his arms, and it had felt like he was dying with you.

He shifted his head to the side so he can face his friend, the look in his eyes saying more than any answer could, but he gave him one anyway. "She has to."

The worst part of it was that they couldn't do anything. Billy was a control freak through and through, and didn't cope well with not being in control of a situation.

He had been like that ever since his mom had left, the most important woman in his life.

He refused to let you go, too.

Sure, you were with them now, but this wasn't the way they had wanted it. You were supposed to be happy and smiles and full of colour, not knocking at Death's door.

The sound of you laughing, or the way your cheeks puffed when he teased you made Billy feel things he never felt before. Him, a cold blooded psycho.

There was no girl more perfect for them than you were and nothing would change that.

His whole world had stopped when he heard you gasp and saw you fall— it was like everything went slow motion.

Stu's eyes roved over the red and bloody knuckles of his friend, the blood on them not belonging to just you. It had been the outside walls of the building that were punished countless of times.

Stu had made no effort to stop his fit of rage. It was surprising Billy was still here and hadn't gone on a murder spree yet to blow off steam like he usually would have.

Both of their gazes simultaneously shifted back to the hospital in front of them.

It was only when cracks of lightning briefly illuminated the sky, followed by booming thunder and sheets of rain falling down that they decided to get back in the car and leave.

Even though their minds weren't where they should be, there were still a couple of things the boys needed to take care of.