Scream 4

Chapter 32

Keeping Emma in the dark was easy enough. Or perhaps not that easy. Your palms felt clammy, especially when Billy's gaze was not wavering from your screen. He didn't trust it, and made sure you stuck to your word and didn't secretely do something stupid, like tipping off the coppers or telling your friend that they were with you and were basically keeping you hostage in your own house.

Your cell made a soft plopping sound as you dropped it beside you on the mattress and exhaled, feeling a weight being lifted from your shoulder just after Emma confirmed she'd be gone for a few hours. You rose from the bed and fidgeted with the loose (H/C) strands at your shoulder, one of the most obvious signs you were nervous.

There was so much you needed to discuss, you didn't think an entire day of talking would cover it all.

The silence went uninterrupted for a while, and you began pacing back and forth in the centre of the room. Now that you felt sober and could think clearer, everything came flooding back to you. The constant drumming against your skull transitioned into the nagging of voices, telling you to confront the men, which was exactly what you were planning to do.

"So why did you do that?" You questioned, barely able to take a quick glimpse out of the corner of your eye. Stu only pulled up his shoulders from his spot on the bean bag.

"You know what I'm talking about, Stu." His features remained casual as you accused him of playing dumb. "Who was the text from? At least tell me that."

"No one you should care 'bout..." Stu's voice oozed with dismissal, and alarms clang in your brain as you quickly put two and two together.

"Don't tell me…" you let the sentence linger. Another shrug of the shoulders confirmed exactly what you were thinking. "You can't just..." you cut yourself off, swallowing and shaking your head in disbelief. "You can't just try to keep people out of my life like that. It's unfair! Jed did nothing wrong!"

The air between you grew thicker, and as you peered over at Billy who was laying on the bed with his hands folded behind his head, the muscle in his jaw tightened, betraying his uneasiness.

"And what do you have to say about it, Billy?" You didn't give him time to think of what to come up with, weren't giving him any time at all. "Billy."

You were getting frustrated by his silence and he was getting frustrated at the lack of it. Hell, he was just frustrated, his eyes taking on an iron harshness as he directed his stare right back at you.

Billy grew frustrated by his frustration, and he could go with his initial instinct to brush it off, but he ended up doing the opposite, cranking his neck to the left to look away as his irritation took hold. "Ya shouldn't be talkin' to that whimp."

The very way he'd pronounced whimp sounded hateful enough to spread a trail of goosebumps down your arms. They had no right to be so hostile towards the reporter, let alone attack him when you were resting in the hospital.

The knot in your stomach tightened when Billy made his opinion about the matter very clear. "We shoulda put a pistol to the fucker's head after we broke into his office."

Your jaw dropped. "You broke into his office?!"

"Yup." He confirmed, simple and short. You watched as Billy's eyes glowered with pride and his face took a moment to relax. Whenever Billy forgot to sound sarcastic, he actually sounded very attractive. "Went to his house–watched 'im for some time," a snort crept from his lips. "Turned out Mr. Perfect wasn't alone."

The next minute was long, fuck, did it feel long. Of all that was going on in your brain, you couldn't begin to decipher how you felt or what you were thinking. Did they know you were the one visiting Jed, then? Had they seen you?