Ecstasy- Rapper imagines

Scream prt 1

"Two Florida teens, Mayor Coleman's daughter Zendaya Coleman, 17, and her boyfriend Tom Holland, 17, were murdered last night. Authorities say that both teens were both stabbed to death outside of the Coleman's mansion. Prayers go out to the families and friends. My heart aches for the cruel person or people who did this. They will be caught and serve the punishments they deserve," news reporter Taraji P Henson says from the TV.

"Oh my God," I gasp, staring at the pictures presented on screen. I quickly call up my best friend Ash. She will not believe this shit.

"Bitch," she says as she answers the phone. "Not Daya and Tom being fucking murdered. Who you think it was."

"Well damn, hello to you too," I joke, chuckling at how stupid my friend is. "I don't know honestly. Her dad was the mayor and she was the most popular girl in school. So many people hated them."

"Okay but why her and not her dad? Daya was a sweet heart and Tom never did nothing to nobody. Her dad is a sexist prick," she responds and I answer her face time call. She has her phone propped up as I watch her do her makeup.

"Florida tho," I repeat, sitting at my vanity. "Serial killers in fucking Florida."

"Girl serial killers are everywhere. I hope this one fine like Ted Bundy," she giggles, applying her blush. Don't get me wrong, people get murdered out here everyday, but stabbed to death? Never. The pictures showed that they were literally gutted. Gotta be some white people, cuz my people don't roll like that. Some nigga watched Friday the thirteenth too many times.

"You make me sick," I reply, spraying my setting spray. My phone rings and it's an unknown caller. I ignore it and let it ring.

"Yo lil boyfriend calling you huh," Ash jokes and I shake my head.

"First of all, Nardo is not my boyfriend. And second of all, mind your business."

"Bitch you are my business and that man is your boyfriend," she laughs, and I roll my eyes. The number calls again.

"It's an unknown number," I tell her.

"Maybe it's the killer," she replies in a creepy voice, then laughs some more.

"Bitch bye," I respond, grabbing my phone and seeing if I recognized the number. But I don't.

"Maybe somebody changed their number," she suggests. I nod. They couldn't just text? I hate niggas for real.

"I'll call you back."

"Love you. Don't get killed."

"I wasn't planning on it," I smile, and she hangs up in my face. That bitch. I call the number back and they answer on first ring.

"Now you wanna talk to me," the voice says creepily.

"Who is this," I ask, cleaning up my messy ass floor. I got clothes everywhere. It's a shame.

"Just a secret admire. I got a question tho ma," the voice replies. This has to be Dayvon on his fuck boy shit. I can tell by the Ma.

"And what would that be," I chuckle playing along.

"What's your favorite scary movie," he asks.

"Dayvon, you know this. It's Jeepers Creepers," I reply, finding an gum pack on the floor. I open it and pop one in my mouth. "Why you wanna know tht anyway? Just cuz Daya and Tommy got killed don't mean y'all can joke and shit about it. This is real life man. Not some horror movie."

"I know this is real life. I wanna make a horror movie tho," the voice says and I get chills down my back. "Now you have to choose if you want to be the final girl, or the fourth victim."