ᏟᎪᏞᏞ ᎷᎬ! | Scream | [PART THREE IS UP]

21. Why...?

June 15th, 1998
10:37am

As the day went on, it felt like a drag. Veronica wanted more than anything to go back to the safety of her dorm room.

She trudged through each class and barely stayed awake and present. The end of the day soon came and she went back to nap in her dorm.

She put on a pair of flannel shorts and a gray tank top, then she laid down and almost instantly fell asleep.

Veronica dreamt for what felt like weeks, but she awoke due to a falling sensation.

She looked out her window to see it was pitch black, "Shit!" She said aloud.

Veronica jumped up and quickly put on a pair of socks and black converse. She grabbed a black hoodie and ran out of her room.

She lifted her wrist up to her face to check the time on her watch.

11:53PM

"Shit! Fuck..." She swore as she ran out the door of the building.

The cold wind hit her skin and she looked down, remembering she still had on her flannel shorts.

She shook her head and ran towards the left end of the college building.

The moment she entered the dark building, something felt different. It felt off.

The lights flickered down the long hallway. She knew she wasn't alone. It wasn't just her...

She quickly walked towards the auditorium, she turned left and stopped dead in her tracks.

Her heart nearly stopped as she gazed at the figure in front of her. Something she hadn't seen in forever...

In front of her stood a figure in black clothing and a white mask.

"No... no... no..." Tears flooded her eyes immediately.

The figure gazed at her and tilted its head to one side. A sharp object was shown in one hand.

Within seconds the figure bolted at her and she screamed and ran down a different hallway.

"Fuck! Shit..." She ran as fast as she could. She had, no doubt, not run for her life for a hot second. She had also gained a bit of weight, but that was the last thing on her mind at the moment.

She continued to sprint down the hall, screaming as loud as she could. Desperately calling out for help, knowing that no one would answer.

Veronica spun around and attempted to slip past the figure. In a way, she was successful, but at a cost.

She felt a cold metal blade slice through her side, she wailed in pain, but kept going. She had done this once before, well... sorta, but who's to say she can't do it again?

Veronica bolted straight through the door of the auditorium. "Mickey?!" She cried out, "Mickey where are you?!"

She suddenly realized she was no longer being chased. She ran up to the stage, "Mickey?"
Veronica frantically looked around, holding onto her bleeding hip, the gash had just barely missed her old scar. She whimpered quietly, looking down at the blood that was pooling around her tank top.

She felt arms grab her from behind and lips meet her neck.

She let out a scream and spun around to find Mickey.

"Shit! Ronnie, I'm sorry..." Mickey said, "You okay-? Fuck, Ronnie! You- You're bleeding!"

"Mickey! Mickey, please! The killer, he's here!" Veronica sobbed hysterically, Mickey held her close.

"It's okay... I got you, I got you..." He whispered.

"I need to get to the hospital! It hurts so bad!" Veronica cried, holding onto her boyfriend tightly.

Mickey sighed, "Oh Ronnie... I can't let that happen..."

Veronica pulled away, "What...?"

Mickey grinned softly, "This was all for you, baby... All of this was for you..."

Veronica stumbled backwards, "No... Mickey... Please, no..."

Mickey walked closer to her and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her to his chest once again. "No, you don't understand... I know how you cared for the original, Billy Loomis, am I right?"

Veronica shook her head in disbelief, "Why... Mickey, why would you do this?!"

"Because!" He began, "I need you, Ronnie... You are my everything, I cannot live without you! I needed to prove to you that I'd do anything for you..."

Veronica's breathing grew more unsteady by the second, "Mickey..."

He pulled out a dagger from his pocket and held it above her lips. "Oh, baby, you know I love you... You know that I crave you..."

Veronica tried to escape his grasp, but he held on tightly. "Please, Mickey... Tell me you're joking..."

He slid the knife down her lips, cutting them. Then he held it to her neck, "Oh, Ronnie... Just think about how gorgeous you'd look covered in blood... Especially your own..." The knife began to press into her neck, drawing blood.

A gunshot went off.

"Get your filthy, fucking hands off of her..."