City of the dead (Ghostface x reader)

𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕧𝕖

You were finally getting around to unpacking some of the boxes in your room.  You didn't want to do it, but you knew you would probably never get around to it if you didn't just get it over with it tonight.  Besides, it was getting very inconvenient to keep living out of the boxes.

You were working on a box full of little fragile trinkets, thankful that the company that moved you and your dad's items in helped build the furniture.  You were holding a small statue of [something] when you heard the phone start ringing in the kitchen.  You set the statue on a shelf, and made your way down the stairs.  You picked up the phone and held it up to your ear, and began talking to whoever was on the other end.

"Hello," you asked.

"When you hear the sirens," a deep male's voice told you.  "Don't move.  Just stay inside, and don't do anything.  Just ignore them.  You'll regret it if you don't."

Then, the mysterious person hung up.  You checked the time, and you were shocked to find that it was already eight o'clock.  You were about to go back upstairs to your room when you heard sirens wailing out from down the street.  You ran to the window to look outside, and saw Sidney crying, sitting on the front steps to her home.  You thought about the phone call you got a second ago.  It was like the person on the other line knew what was going to happen.

Well, if they were going to threaten you, you might as well do it face to face.  Maybe them being a lazy coward was why you found yourself opening the front door to go console your friend.  You didn't take them seriously if they didn't do something actually threatening.

"Sidney," you shouted, trying to sound surprised.  "Sidney, is that you?!"

"(y/n)?!"

"Oh my god, Sidney!  What the hell happened?!"

You jogged across the street, watching as blue and red lights bathed the surrounding area. 

"It's my mom," Sidney sobbed.  "She's dead!  Someone killed her!"

"Holy shit, I'm so sorry," you apologized gently.

"Cotton Weary... he was inside.  He killed her!  There was blood on his jacket, it was Cotton!"

By now, the police had arrived.  An officer jumped out of one of the cars, and raced over to you both.

"Sid!  What the fuck happened," he shouted.

Sidney didn't give a reply, rather she cried harder.  You took a seat next to her, and pulled her into a hug.  She was quick to bury her face in your shoulder, and you looked up at the concerned officer.

"She said her mom was killed," you told him.  "She said a dude named Cotton Weary murdered her and had blood on him."

"Son of a bitch..." he trailed off.  "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"My name is (y/n), I'm Sidney's friend and I live across the street," you answered.

"Okay.  You may need to give a statement in court," he told you.  "Since you were here and all."

"She's gone Dewey... she's dead," Sidney muttered.

"I know Sid.  And we're gonna bust the guy who did it.  Don't worry," the officer - Dewey - reassured her.

More police officers got out of their vehicles and began to make their way into the house, and Dewey took a seat on the other side of the crying girl, and you heard one of the officers in the house make some sort of a call, telling more officers to find Cotton Weary.  You held the crying daughter, sobbing as she kept going on about how her mom was dead an never coming back.

You didn't know what to help calm her down, so you did what you could to at least comfort her.  Luckily, Sid seemed to know Dewey, and he had practice calming down the inconsolable since he was a police officer and all.  You were thankful he knew what he was doing, 'cause you sure hell didn't.  

"Sidney, I need to take (y/n) away now.  Do you want me to call Tatum," Dewey questioned.

"Yes please," Sidney replied.

Dewey made his way into the house, and you slowly separated from your friend and her death grip on you.  Dewey emerged and ushered you over to the wall of police cruisers, glancing at the road quickly.

"I'm deputy Riley, and I'm just gonna ask you a few questions.  Okay?"

"Yeah," you answered hesitantly.

"Okay.  What were you doing before you came here?"

"I was unpacking some boxes... and I got a weird phone call.  Then I heard the sirens, looked out the window to see what was going on, and saw Sidney sitting there crying."

"Why did you call the phone call weird," Dewey interrogated.

"It was some guy telling me to stay put when I heard the sirens, or I'd regret it.  Then he hung up, and I heard sirens down the street."

"Did the man on the phone sound like Cotton Weary?"

"I don't know sir, I've never met him."

"Alright, that'll be enough for now," Dewey told you.  "Thank you, you'll probably get a letter for a court date."

"Okay, thank you sir.  But how do you know Tatum?"

"Hm?"

"You said you'd call Tatum for Sidney.  How do you know her?"

"She's my sister," Dewey responded.  "But it's a bit shocking you noticed that.  You'd make a good cop."

You smiled, and made your way back to Sidney.  Soon enough a bright red car pulled up, and Tatum burst out, racing over to the both of you.  You had gone back to practically cuddling your friend, and she had gone back to holding you so tight that you felt like you were suffocating.  You were glad Tatum finally arrived, since she knew how to calm Sidney down better than anyone.

"Do you need me to call Billy," Tatum asked.

"She's dead Tate," was how Sidney responded.  "She's gone.  She's dead, she's never coming back.  She was fucking mutilated Tate, she's dead!"

"I'll take that as a yes," Tatum muttered.

Tatum stood up and made her way into the house, most likely going after the same phone Dewey had used.  You wondered if Tatum would need to go to court now, since she was here before everything got cleaned up and sorted out.  And what about Billy, would he have to go if he showed up too early too?

You were too confused, so you decided to ignore your questions to help Sidney.

"Is there a (y/n) out here," one of the officers asked from the doorway.

"My name's (y/n)," you told them.

"You got a phone call.  The person says they're your father."

You jumped up, wondering how your dad managed to get this number.  But that was the least of your worries right now.  You were lead inside by the officer, and directed to a phone sitting on the kitchen counter, the phone sitting face down.  On the countertop.

"Hello," you asked.

"Roses are red, violets are blue," a familiar voice said.  "I'm near a window, and I'm watching you.  Good luck."

The person hung up again, and you sprinted outside.

"DEWEY," you called.  "DEWEY!!"

He wanted to know about the earlier phone call, and you knew for a fact that he would want to know about this one.  Not to mention the 'I'm watching you' thing.