Tear You Apart || Billy Loomis & Stu Macher

𝟻𝟿| 𝐖𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫?

You stared impassively into the foggy bathroom mirror, taking in your haggard appearance through the smeared condensation. The chain of events that led up to this very moment had induced this numbness inside of you.

When Billy left, you took the chance to drown out your rapid thoughts with a hot shower. Scrubbing until your skin felt tender, yet you could not rid yourself from feeling sullied. The guilt, anger, and resentment kept piling up towards yourself. You just wanted it all to be over.

You never thought you could handle another massacre, but here you were, amid the third and final one.

After you catch this killer, you'll officially be done. Whatever happens in the future — if another movie-obsessed psycho pops up — you won't get involved. You can't keep living in fear like this, always having to look over your shoulder for the next threat.

And Billy and Stu... being around them as if they weren't two criminals — it wasn't right. You just didn't have it in you to let them go, yet. They were a part of your history, and no matter what they've done... the love you had for them was indestructible.

But there was this little voice in your head telling you to disappear, escape from the shackles they had on you. You couldn't keep torturing yourself like this. It'll end up killing you.

Pushing the mental anguish to the side for just a moment, you glanced down at your phone as you dialed your mother's number. Now that you were alone, you finally had a chance to speak with her on the matter at hand.

As the phone rang, your eyes returned to your reflection while waiting for an answer. Leaning forward, you traced the bruise along your forehead, wincing as it was still sore to the touch.

With a sigh, you leaned back and readjusted the towel around your body. You began to pace around the bathroom, tensing up with every passing ring. You weren't even sure what you were going to say to her.

'Hey mom, just out of curiosity... who's my real daddy?' You laughed at the awfully thought scenario. She would surely have a heart attack if you kicked off with that.

"Hey, sweetie. What's going on?" The sound of your mother's voice brought you to a halt. You never call without an initial warning first which explained the confusion in her tone.

Raking your brain for a reply, you completely blanked. Throat dryer than the Sahara desert, you croaked out the first thing that came to mind, "Hi– uh, what're you doing?"

"I'm just cooking up dinner for your father and I," she sounded distracted, and you could hear a bunch of utensils clashing together in the background. "Why? What's wrong? Your voice sounds off."

"No, no, nothing's wrong." You denied. "Um... I just have a question— several, actually."

"What about?"

You anxiously chewed on your lip as you played with a loose thread at the bottom of your red towel. "Did you know Sid's mom when you were younger?"

There was a loud thud that echoed through the speaker, similar to a pan clashing against a hard surface, followed by a few seconds of silence before your mother answered. "Well, yes... but what has brought this about? Why are you asking me about Maureen?"

"Mom," You inhaled. "I found a picture of you together, here at Sunrise Studios. What were you two doing in Hollywood?"

"Oh, honey, that was so long ago. It was like another life—"

"Just answer my question, please." Your tone was more biting than you intended, but the suspense was eating away at you.

"Maureen and I, we were like sisters back then. Wherever she went, I went." Your mother began, grudgingly. "She wanted to become an actress, so we went to Hollywood. She starred in a few lowly horror films, but when things weren't working out the way she planned, she resulted to other tactics... things I didn't agree with."