stab.

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The knife tears through Sidney's skin, having the feel of stabbing through leather. The blood tingles my hand when it spills out. Her scream echos through the house, bouncing off of the walls and the other dead bodies.

I retreat the knife only to gut her once more. She's come back twice before. Never again will she see the light of day.

A sick grin plasters itself onto my face. Heat radiates through my body. It was relieving seeing the life drain from her eyes. Tears trail down her pale cheeks.

She's the monster. Not me. Not us.

Stu's hand is in her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck. The gaze he shares with her is one of power. He then looks to me, the smile dispersing.

"Do it," he says, his voice raspy from laughing at her earlier. We like playing with our prey.

I place the knife on her neck. She's gasping for air. The stained metal glimmers in the light. I chuckle. "Goodbye, Sidney."

The thick, red substance wastes no time in pouring from her, escaping it's barriers. It doesn't splash, no, it sticks to her skin, bleaching it red.

Stu sets his hand in it, letting it get covered. He glances up at me, taking his hands off of her completely. He steps forward, slipping the knife from my fingers and throwing it to the side.

He reaches up, grabbing me as he had done to her. His hand in my hair. I feel the blood drip from it, shampooing my hair in red. He tugs my head back and I grunt, not expecting the sudden movement. Leaning down, he kisses my neck. I close my eyes, basking in his touch.

He lets go, anticipating that I'd stay the way he had me without his hand. I did.

His fingers slither down my temple to my cheek. His teeth nibble at my collarbone. I could do this all day with him.

"You look so pretty in red," he whispers against me, his breathing already so heavy.

He lifts his other hand, wrapping it ever so tightly around my neck. The thought of having his handprint marked in blood around my neck made my thighs tense.

He turns us, accidentally making me stumble over my feet. He shoves me against a wall, pressing harder against my throat. I reach my hands up, wrapping them around his wrist as if I were going to shove it away. I just held onto him.

"Stu," I mumble, "stab me."

That's when his grip loosens and his eyes soften. He didn't want to do it. Our plan to make ourselves look like the victims would only work if we got hurt.

"Let's lay her body out first."

I hum. He lets go of me, going back to Sid. He unties her as I watch. Her body slumps over, pale and lifeless. Cold, I assume. Maybe a hint of warmth.

I look around while he lays her out on the floor. Dewey is by the front porch with that news reporter. Gale or something. Randy is on the couch in the living room. God, he was annoying.

"Bill," Stu calls. I look back. He has the knife in his hands. The expression he wore wasn't happy. He looked... scared. His tall, thin body was almost curled in on itself. Crazy how he can be a merciless killer, but when it comes to me, he's so soft and gentle.

"It's okay. You're not going to do it in a fatal place. Just in the side, not too deep," I reassure, knowing that I'd have to hurt him as well. "Do you want to hit me first? Get the adrenaline going.

He nods. He didn't, but it would help us. He sets the knife down, stepping closer to me. His gaze catches mine. "Billy-"

"Do it, Stu," I raise my voice. We're not going to get caught. "Just fucking do it."

I hear my jaw crackle a bit when my head is slammed to the side. Pain blooms from where he hit me. I grasp the area, closing my eyes and letting the sting wear off.

"Are you okay?" He grasps my shoulders, not wanting to touch my face. "I didn't mean to hit your jaw."

"I'm fine. Get the knife." I stand straight, needing to be prepared for this.

The knife is back in his grip. If he didn't have the look of a kicked puppy on his face right now, he'd look hot. Blood down his sweater. Blood staining his hands. Some red splatters on his face.

"Don't look at me like that. We can finish at home."

He comes forward and places a hand on my shoulder. I nod at him, ready. He sighs, gripping the knife tighter. He takes a minute, and that's when I hear sirens.

"Do it, Stu! Fucking coward-"

White flash of pain. A whimper leaves my throat as he pulls the knife back out. I double over, but he pulls me up.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"

I take the knife from his hand and do the same to him. He cries out, his knees buckling. I catch him, only for a second, before we both tumble down. I raise the knife to my upper arm and cut myself messily. Tears threaten to fall, but the pain only heightens my adrenaline.

When I look at Stu, he's staring at the ceiling. His hands are fully covered in his own blood. His sweater is practically drenched. Oh no.

"Stu? Stu. Where- where did I-" I lift his sweater, finding blood consistently pumping out. "Oh, god. I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean to-"

The sirens are getting closer. Fuck. I take the knife, wiping it on my shirt to get his prints off. I crawl to Sid's body, pressing her hands again the base of the knife. I had to keep it though, or at least near me.

Sidney attacked us with the knife. I got ahold of it, killing her soon after. There are no witnesses besides Stu and I. Her best friend is in the garage. Her dad is dead at home. The other teens left before she went on her spree.

It was perfect.

I crawl back to Stu, his breathing heavy. I slide the knife a few feet away. I don't have to fake any tears. They come out messy as I hold onto Stu's hand. It was warm. Bloody.

"Put your hands where I can see them!"

I let his hand drop, lifting my own. I sob out, "please, you- you gotta help him. He's dying!"

Officers come around to us, kicking away the knife. They grab me, pulling at my hands and making me cry out. My stab wound was throbbing.

"Dispatch, send out two ambulances. We're going to need a few body bags as well," an officer says, going around to the dead bodies and checking the pulses. Nothing.

"What's your name, kid?"

"Billy. Billy Loomis. This is Stu Macher. Sidney Prescott, she- she went insane," I sob, grasping Stu's hand again and squeezing it. He squeezed back. He's going to be okay.

"Sidney Prescott did all this?"

"It was her."

________

•Hello :) This started purely as a joke, and then it actually got good. Hope you guys liked it!•

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