Woodsboro, already, I could tell how small and quiet this town is compared to the big city. If I was any other teenaged technical adult, I would probably think that I was going to fit just fine in this society. But sadly, that isn't the case for me. I don't 'fit in' anywhere, not at a party, not at a family event, not at a school event, nowhere. You may think I'm overexaggerating since I act fairly normal in the public eye and have my own persona to please the people around me so I don't look like the next Wade Wilson. But..... all it takes is one slip up. One tiny slip up, and I could be roped into my own mess that I'll have to clean up if I don't want to have cement on my hands for many years.

That's why I hand to burn all of my photos I spent a month collecting the second I heard that we were going to move. I couldn't put them in the many boxes we were using to move, and a jewelry box of potoroids wouldn't make much sense and draw even more suspicion if at least one person saw it. I 'donated' the clothes I suspected had blood on them, and some other things. Now, I'm a clean boy, in a clean word, with the secret identity of a toxic mutant that is going to poison it. 

Stepping out of this car, I see people walking their dogs, people taking out the trash, preparing for Wednesday, and one person going on a morning run. It's a different crowd here, I'm going to have to change just like my environment if I want to survive this harsh wild. For example, I've been burned with the text of moving so much furniture and boxes around. We had to get our own couches and beds in order to move into here. I thought we were just renting this place, but evidence makes me suspect that my parents have other plans. 

During the box carrying and unloading, I'm looking around, sometimes sharing eye contact with the suburban people that pass by. You'd expect them to be too innocent for their own good, being a place that likely only handles petty thievery and drunken brawls, and yes, no good bandit raids. But, I know the history, I know that if something....tragic, were to happen, the police will take it very seriously. It's a clean crowd, but also wicked, and I plan to shake the tree up a little.

Why? Because I'm a monster that cannot be fixed.

"Hey, son..." My dad tries calling out to me, but I'm too busy engaging in a staring contest with a dog that keeps baring slurs at me for me to notice. "Hey, Y/N!" He calls me by my name, which ironically works best. If you use son, make sure you're being loud, because I may not turn my head. "You okay?" He asks me, likely noticed that my eyes have behaved like I entered Normady Beaches.

"I've been here five minutes, and already, I don't like this place." I let him know honestly, and it's the truth. I'm going to actually try here, I can't just put a hand over someone's mouth to keep them quiet and then leave the body to be discovered later with police having no factual evidence to think it was a high school kid. Here, everyone's a suspect, but.... the demon in my heart doesn't take no for an answer. "It's too...... quiet."

"Don't judge a book by it's cover. That's what I say." Richard casually remarks with a shrug, however, I find his choice of words to be contradictory at best.

"Everyone says that." I call out with a raised brow, to which my father just laughs. Because you know, when it comes to his only child that he'll have due to be castrated, he's gota have all the jokes in the book. Poor guy, when he told me, I felt really bad for him. But at least, it would mean that he couldn't be framed as someone who came on people while they were sleeping. Yeah, angry story, that one. 

"Yeah, and that's what you should be saying." My father points out, doing a good job of making himself sound correct. Though, I don't that line came out as wise as he wanted it to sound. I roll my eyes and follow him in, today, I'm just gonna move stuff around and get comfortable with my new home. Today, I need to plan how I am going to establish a new 'normal life', a shelf of masks that I'm going to hide behind.

Because tomorrow.... I'm already gonna be busy.

________________________________

Woodsboro High: The Next Day

No, not with murder. I can last more than a day without blood. No, even though I'm old enough to drive a car, I still need to get a graduation. So, I can potentially be a photographer like my uncle was, before his...... uh, accident. My dad says I got it from my biological father, but.... I refuse to believe it. That was my polite way of saying it's obviously bullshit and a horrible attempt to bond, just so you know. I don't mainly focus on that though, my actual target club is going to be something different. Why? Because I need to 'blend it'. In my mind, the only time I'll show the methods of how I prove my skills are when I get a actual job in New York while secretly being the not-at-all friendly neighborhood Spider-Carnage. 

Definitely not swinging webs any time soon, because in spite of this map and schedule I've been giving, I have come to find out that I am royally lost. Why? Either there's too many people for me to see, or whoever designed the way the room numbers worked need to be burned at the stake, and I'll happily light the torch.

Well, time to do the duty of a 'man' and do 'manly' things, which includes going to a person for help. As I glance up, a girl who's looks admittedly make up for her height that other girls would likely judge her for, you know, as the badass female thing to do, walks in my general direction. So, that's who I shoot towards first. 

"Excuse me?" I call out to her, and to my beginner's luck, she recognizes that it's her in this huge moving crowd that I'm talking to and stops to turn to me with a raised brow. "Do you know where World History is?" I ask her. Somehow, this class is the hardest to find, and I'm threatening to be late because of it. If you'd seen the interior of this building, however, you'd know what I'm talking about. 

"Oh, a new guy?" The girl queries with a raise brow, before thinking on it for a few seconds. "Actually, I have World History right now, if you want to just follow me there." She shares with me, making me glad that I did my manly duties. I'll make sure to thank GigaChad with a blowjob when I get the chance. 

"Great, even better." I quip with a grateful smile. Whenever I smile, it's always fake, but I've nailed it to the point that making it look real is effortless. "So, is being new some kind of trend over here? You said it like it was a surprising thing." I comment with a curious tone, trying to get to know this zoo hungry animals as quickly as I can for the sake of my knowledge. One thing to know so you can protect your pack, is that you have to know the predators. 

"Somewhat. In case you haven't noticed, Woodsboro isn't on the top ten list for tourism. So, we get only two new people per semester. So, having a guy show up as a mid-transfer is even more interesting for a school society like this." The girl informs me, giving me a look that tells me to take it as that I'm going to be a guest of honor. Though that sounds way too much like the plot of a visual novel, making me skeptical to believe it. "Name's Tara, by the way. Letting you know that now, because we're probably gonna end up talking again eventually."

"Oh really?" I raise a brow, her choice of words looking mighty confident for someone who struck me as the social, but introverted type. Maybe I made a good impression with just my eyes alone, or maybe she's trying to give a cryptic warning that this town is secretly run by a cult that worships runes. If the second outcome isn't the case, I'll be a sad man. "And why's that?" I ask her. While walking, I almost accidentally bump my shoulder into this guy with dyed blonde hair, who stops to look at me and Tara with a mixed expression on his face. Interesting. 

"Girl's intuition?" Tara half-answers with a shrug, as if making this stuff on the spot herself. "We share the same class, and my friends can represent me in different ways, if that makes any sense." She informs me, which I guess is her saying that she wants me to not take what her friends say at face value, whoever they are. She definitely seems like to the type to have more than just friends. Acquaintance that can assume the wrong thing just because her bra strap showed for a split second. 

Though, she's wearing a long-sleeved shirt in weather like this, so I might be wrong on that front. 

"I see. Well then, I'll try not to assume anything." I assure her with a calm, friendly look. During the walk, I notice her glancing at me for more than three seconds, which makes me think I've entered some sort of love at first sight situation until I realize that I never told her my own name. "Oh, and, my name's Y/N." I inform her, getting the feeling that I'll probably bump into her again in more places than just the classroom as well. 

"Cool." Tara comments with a slow nod, glad to know.

She then guides me to the door of our intended destination, and a teacher who was preparing to draw on his chalk board, looks over and sees us walking through. "Just in time, Tara." He remarks with a relieved expression, looking like he was expecting us to be late or something. 

"Sorry, Mr. Voorhees, I was..... making sure my bag was zipped up." Tara tells her with the most lamest excuse I've ever heard in teenage lies history. Whatever she was doing before we met, must've been something .... well, something that she's wanting to keep a secret about. The teacher that I've identified as Mr. Voorhees thanks to third-party help, raises an obviously skeptical brow, but considering that we are both on time, he just scoffs it away.

"Right..." 

Then, we get the standard introduction, the papers, the notes we have to draw, everything you'd expect from class, or what you don't want to imagine. If you're homeschooled and your only knowledge is that you've seen kids standing on desks in front of a teacher who writes stuff on a chalk board (Something I thought didn't happen anymore, guess this place is old school like that), than I'd recommend that you stick to that, because I don't wanna spoiler anything if you decide to actually go. 

"The people decided to settle down instead of constantly being on the move. They created farms, which created education, which created big cities. However, those big cities required trade, which led to rats, poisons, and disease. And soon, even mental health become such a bigger threat than any of us realized."  Mr. Voorheese calmly lectures as he goes over the current lesson. However, not everyone is paying attention to his topic of discussion. Some are mentally distracted

"Hey.... Hey, Wes..." A girl with long (curly?) hair, pokes the guy in front of him, who I recognize was the dye-blond guy that was glancing at me earlier. How'd he get all the way back without me noticing, even though I saw him going in the opposite direction? My mind must've been distracted on.... certain thoughts. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." The guy dismisses her with a harsh shrug. Now that I think about it, he does look like someone pissed in his breakfast this morning. Did something else happen before I saw him and that's why he looked somewhat irritated at me earlier? Did I remind him of some parent that left him when he was six or something? Or does he know Tara and was actually looking at her, the possible real cause of his troubles? 

Whatever it is, I'm overthinking this way too hard.

"You sure? Because-"

"Mrs. Meeks." Mr. Voorhees calls out her name with a very clear tone. Although this is my first day, I can easily tell that being called by your last name means that you fucked up. I'm guess that tapping on your classmate's back isn't shined upon here. "Would you mind telling us what the name of the revolution that began settled societies and changed our world as we know it?" 

Mindy, who looks like she just got caught both her pants down, quickly clears her throat to regain her cool. "I'm assuming it's the... Farmer's Revolution?" She answers in what I suspect was an attempt to be sassy and make up for her lack of paying attention by making her students laugh. The idea of it being called that does get a few chuckles, but the teacher isn't as amused.

"The Neolithic Revolution." I raise my head, not hand, and answer confidently, getting the attention put solely on me. I don't know why I did it, because I don't care about my education as much as I know I need it, but I took the spotlight. And it looks like it paid off according to the looks I'm getting.

"That's correct." Mr. Voorhees confirms with a point towards me, walking back to his board with a sigh though, mostly at everyone else. "Didn't even go through the first part of W.H and still knew that..... lord help us." He mutters to himself, but I was able to hear it still, and I bet a few in front of me heard it too, including Mindy. 

I shift in my seat, still trying to figure out why I tried showing off my knowledge like that. I'm clearly letting only my anxiety win, because the other students clearly don't give a damn if I got it right or not. I think it's actually because of the girl sitting next to my left. Her long, straight black hair, big but gorgeous lips in red lipstick. I had just caught her giving me some kind of glare, which makes her instantly turn away like that wasn't the case. 

I saw her doing that earlier when me and Tara walked in together. 

Did I miss something? Is Tara giving away, 'earn nasty looks from everyone you meet as if you just took the nastiest and smelliest shit in the room' cards? 

I never thought I'd be telling myself this, but I think I'm wishing I knew the context of what appears to be high school drama.

Someone help.

The bell then rings, and I'm now picking up my stuff. "Glad to know there's someone I can cheat on, if you pre-studied Algebra as well." That black-haired girl comments next to me as she passes me by, clearly in a very bad mood despite her words. I squint at her, wondering if I looked like a pushover nerd, or if she actually just meant that as a joke to make me feel welcomed and cheer herself up in the process

"Sorry about that." Tara chimes in as I turn around to find her behind me. I'm guessing she saw the sour look on that girl's face. "She's... Amber's my best friend, and she has this weird phobia of me talking to guys I just met." She explains to me with a look that hints that protectiveness is off the charts. "I think she must've gotten cheated on or something to hate the opposite sex that much."

"Yeah, that's what I figured." I reply with a shrug, not really, I thought I just had something on my face or Tara was a curse, but I'm glad that I got some kind of picture as to what her issue is. "Anyway, I'll see you later." I tell her with a wave as we eventually get to a spot where we can't walk together in the hallway anymore. Now that I think about it, something tells me that Tara is used to having someone around with her, which is maybe why 'Amber' doesn't like me right now. I unknowingly took her 'hall buddy'. 

Yeah, I don't know if that's even a thing.

Anyway, Tara says goodbye back, and we part separate ways. As I continue walking to my third period, having Lunch D, I notice an ad on the wall that personally catches my interest. I'm assuming I'm near a court of some kind, as everything on her is mostly related to sports. But the most interesting thing is that according to this board on the wall, tryouts for football are starting tomorrow. 

Hmm.....

________________________________________

Woodsboro: Football Field

Yeah, needless to say, I went. Like I said, I didn't want to give away the fact that I was pro with a camera to easily. If I left even one photo of my perfect achievements behind, the trail of snow could easily lead back to me without a shovel even being needed. Maybe I'm just that paranoid, and this whole thing is for the plot of some slasher turned high-school drama and psycho thriller, with some slasher elements to it, but even then, I trained myself for sports anyway. I find to be a fun time. Yes, slamming into other dudes like barbarians is my idea of fun. It's not yours? Well then, you're a nerd, little nerd. 

Sorry. 

"Alright, come on folks! A roach can catch the ball better than than that!" The man who I can easily assume is the coach by his jacket and hat combo that he has on. Oh, and the fact that he's clearly pushing fifty. I walk into the field, observing the bulls in the ring. They're tough, especially the running back, maybe I overestimated my chances of finding a hobby that masks my actual hobby. "See? This is why we're always running!"

Taking a nervous swallow, still finding social interaction to be anxiety-inducing, I cautiously approach the man with my hands in my pockets. "Uh... Coach Gluck?" I nervously greet, quickly telling myself mentally that I need to act more confident. Cocky teenagers being something to them that coaches will love seeing them being knocked down a peg. "I heard tryouts was today?"

"You're late, kid. As you can clearly see, it started ten minutes ago." Gluck points out what, in his defense, is the obvious. The team is already playing with the noobs on each respective team. Though, when you have a layout like this. Trying to find the side of the fence that had the gate was a little too difficult to figure out for me. Which, yes, is a little embarrassing for me when I say it out-loud. 

"Yeah, right, well, with all due respect, coach, I'm new here and this place is kind of a maze." I state in my defense, making it sound like it's the school's fault and not mine. All part of the plan, obviously. I plan everything, he-he-he. Nope, Y/N, don't ever mentally laugh when you narrate. Gluck turns to me with a raised brow before eventually noticing what's up.

"Ah, the mid-transfer guy, right? Mr. Blackwood?"  Gluck then recognizes me, to which I nod in confirmation. 

"That's right." 

"Guess that makes sense...." He comments, making me wonder if he's been thinking why a kid is this persistent in getting the part. Or, well, the position. Wait, that sounds worst.  You know what? Fuck it, who cares? I'm probably just assuming things. An adult like him is much calmer than even I could be at this age. "Well, sorry to say, but just because the town's small, doesn't mean we're starving for players here. Besides, you haven't told me the reason why I should let you...."

I hear something soaring like a bullet through the wind, causing me to look behind and raise up my arm without even thinking. My moment of witnessing utter disappointment is ruined when I look over at my hand that now hurts like hell, and I see that I caught a football that was headed right towards my face. Gluck saw it too, blinking rapidly and we both look over to see a football player quickly running over to us.

"Crap! Sorry about that, man, coach, butter fingers over there can't throw to save his life." The guy who I think was the running back I saw earlier apologize on his friend's behalf while I hand him the ball so I can shake the pain off of my hand, as if that's actually a thing. 

"It's cool..." I quietly answer, honestly a little in awe at myself. Gonna be blunt to myself, but I never thought I was capable of doing that. I've played football before, that's why I came here, but I didn't think my instincts could be so useful as they were just now. Maybe I should listen to them more.  

"Nice catch." The player compliments with an amused grin, while I turn to the coach who clearly now realizes that he has to admit that whatever he was first thinking about me was an understatement or completely wrong. He lets out a big sigh.

"You're one lucky kid."

I'll take that as, 'get the helmet and uniform from the locker room'.

Getting all of the equipment and protection that I need, I'm now on the field. Conveniently, I'm on the team of the footballer that almost gave me head trauma, and the guy who complimented my palm that saved me from that ever happening. I'm not mad at them, though, if anything, I should make sure that I send them a thank you cake with their dead mother's heart attached on top as the cherry and holder for the candles. They just earned me the way in. 

Time for stereotypical jock Y/N Blackwood to return. 

This isn't a sports story, so I don't think I need to go through the entire game with you, but to put it simply, I say I played very well. The team clearly needed someone who can actually catch the ball, and I was the superman to their bus of orphans. There's one other guy who's not terrible, but I don't think he'll be earning any rewards anytime son. If anything, he'll just be the guy that makes me not get watched so much. But right, the summary. I scored at least a dozen touch downs during the skirmish, caught the ball at least half-hundred times, and I've sweated more than I ever have with this sport, which is saying something. And this is the tryouts! 

I made the guy who almost killed me actually look good, and the running back is now getting less of a workout in. Hope that doesn't piss him off too much. Eventually, the game's over. I take off my helmet, idly glancing around as if someone's in the bleachers, which, to my surprise, find that someone actually is. Well, not exactly, but they're behind the fence, watching. I look over, and catch two girls watching the action. One of them is some girl with magenta personally colored into her hair, and the other is that one that Tara said was named Amber. I'm guessing they each, or one of them, has a boyfriend on this team. 

Amber seemingly catches me staring, I think, since the heat makes her a little blurry from this distance, but I stare back nonetheless. Already, I can tell that she brings a.... scent, to her, even from so far away. My nostrils smell something, and like Edward Cullen, I'm now craving her blood. And I mean that, in the literal scary way that movie put it, not the, 'I wanna fuck her' way.  

I'm the tracker, she's the human prey.

During the walk back to the locker rooms, where I see the face of someone who is surprised to be impressed right now on Gluck's face, I also hear two football players who think I cannot hear them, who I know are talking about me. "So, that's the guy?" I hear one ask. When I hear his voice, I recognize it as the mentioned running back.

"Yeah, Blackwood. You remember what I told you about him, right?"

There's a brief moment of silence, which I suspect is them staring down at my back.

"I don't know, he doesn't look that bad." 

"Yeah, because you see the good in everyone. Everyone. You think Jeffery Dahmer saved puppies too?" 

"And you think Atlanta means he's the candy man?"

"I don't think it. I know it."

"Oh really? Guess that rumor about you peeing on the bathroom sinks is true too." 

"Haha, blow me." 

"Mirrors beat me to it."

The entire time, I keep a straight face, but I'm no fool. I've taught my ears to listen to every single detail I consider important, it's why I've never been caught in the act, I know if someone's nearby. I've adapted the mind of a wolf, that's gone feral, yet keeps his senses even though meat is more tempting to me. 

Guess school gossip is as real as I imagined. 

_________________________

Woodsboro: Bar

Later that day, my parents encouraged me to get to know the city. And so I did, eventually, during that first week of school, I learned that there was a family friendly bar over on main street. Obviously, minors can't have beer and such, but.... I know them better, almost every teen in here has their drink spiked one way or another. I was hungry, and mom didn't have any leftovers this time around, so I decided to try the place's purchased food. Having a hang-out place like this is much better than the skate park, I'll give it that. 

I got myself an open table, but one that allows me to idly look around without making me look weird. Most would see it as occasional glancing of newcomers that walk in or pass me, if at least one person sees the pupils behind my eyes, they will see the darkness inside. The void, that I've never been able to overcome. The shade's servant. A horror fan would call me Micheal Myers, and... I know I would believe them.

The crowd here feels a little different. Back in the suburbs, I saw only normal. But here, I can see some black sheep among the herd. In spite of whatever reputation they've given themselves, they don't look like they are willing to let someone sheer off their wool that easily. I wouldn't mind challenging it though. I know that if someone were to make this disappear, no one would even blink. That's the secret to this life, and that's always why my kind goes after the homeless and hookers. Kill someone you wouldn't know was hanging around that street in the first place, even if it was for a month, and getting away with it is like stealing candy from a baby. 

However, I'm not in a small town with a paranoid police force, and the homeless have a slightly smaller number. I need to make sure who my outcasts and nobodies are, for me to send my pack onto their meet and bones. 

"Drink the waters, Amber." I hear a slightly familiar voice speaking, prompting me to turn my head and see the girl that was trying to talk to the Wes kid and got embarrassed by Mr. Voorhees earlier. "You know you can't be having a hangover on a school night."

"Well, at least someone will be paying attention to me, then." Amber mutters as she currently has her face buried in her hands. I must've missed something going on in this bar, or it happened, outside, because this is the first time I saw the seemingly 'no-fucks-given' girl look like a mess right now. "In fact, can I at least get one more while my flask has some left?" An opportunity presents itself, but I assume her friend there will be driving her, meaning that a drunk, clueless girl that won't be thinking straight will not be on my list today. 

"Geez, okay, come on, this isn't worth tearing yourself up over. You can't guilt trip people into coming back for you." Amber's friend tells her. Good advice when you hear it, but according to what I've learned from Twilight, trying to commit suicide multiple times is a good way to get your ex-boyfriend to come back to you. 

"That's what you think..."

"Amber-"

"Why can't she just see me, just once?" Amber complains to her friend, making me realize that I was wrong. It wasn't an ex-boyfriend, or even an ex, it's a girl. I was wrong twice in a row, that surprisingly feels very interesting in a new, happy way. "Why is it that everyone else around Tara doesn't even have to try, but I'm just 'a friend'? I mean, all that new guy had to do was just ask her for directions, and I can already see the lust and cum in her eyes." She vents, rubbing her headache. 

"Maybe she's not the girl you think she is." Her friend tells her with a shrug, looking like she knows exactly what the girl is feeling. I'm going to guess that the sexuality is somewhere on the same spectrum for the both of them, but keep that between you and me, please? "Lord knows I've missed my marks just because of that."

"Yeah, but you're more confident." Amber points out with a shade of green in her eyes. "You don't have to hide it like the 'popular rich girl' does." She says as a slight jab towards the friend that's trying to help her, making that girl sigh. 

"I'll go get the car, you coming or not?"

"Just.... five more minutes, I need to use the bathroom." Amber tells her with a dismissive wave that asks for the girl to please leave her alone. Her friend sighs, nods, and gives her that privacy. With that girl's back no longer blocking my view, I'm now able to see all of Amber's face, and I was right, she is a half-drunk mess right now. She catches me staring, she blinks, but she eventually recognizes me. However, she's reveled her weakness, and now I know how to exploit it.

First step, don't look away, don't act shy. Next, look her up and down, showing that you're physically attracted to her. Then, to finish your one-two-three, give her a smirk, showing that you're interested. I never gave Tara that smirk, and Amber knows that. I keep my eyes trained on her face, waiting for a reaction.

And she smiles back at me, her insecurities floating away for a brief moment. The green light's on me.  

But, I can't take her, not yet. She has a friend nearby, and she's popular. How frustrating, her blood scent is still strong and pulsating with need for me to bite it open and suck her dry, but people know here. They'll want justice. I need someone who's always alone. A true nobody. 

I don't engage in conversation, to her, I'm just a stranger who likes what I see. If I go after her now, I'll look like the teenage jock who goes after drunk girls who aren't thinking clearly, I need to maintain a good image, even if it's only on the surface. Instead, I walk away, though not without giving her by best, confident wink, telling her that I'm interested once I see her sober, with full stamina and endurance. 

I pay my bill, and I leave the parking, looking for my car. However, as I touch the roof, I feel my hand twitching. I never realized it, but the time between moving and getting used to my school environment means that my demon has not been blessed with a bowl of his favorite kind of milk. The one that is red, and only suitable for his kind of diet. 

I start to stress, thinking that I may have to go through a day where I risk losing control while thinking of how I will clench it, when I see another girl that is Amber and her friend's age walking past me. She doesn't have a walk, so she's walking down the sidewalk. At that moment, I recognize her face behind her glasses. She's that one girl in Biology that no one gave a damn about. I caught at least one mean girl messing with her shit, putting her down just because she has those pieces of glass that help make her eyes work. Because, you know, girls with glasses in movies are declared ugly? 

I think I'll leave my car here for now. At the moment, my feet move without asking for permission, they follow her, with a fast pace so I can keep up with her without making it obvious of my intentions. Making yourself look like a stalker is easy, if you're a male, you must be as casual as possible. 

Eventually, there's a street bridge she has to wait to pass, as cars drive down the road. At that moment, I lower the pacing of my feet, now knowing that I can calmly walk to her position without giving myself away. I am now side-by-side with her. Her scent isn't as strong as Amber's but the clear isolation her life includes gives me perfect reason to see her as a.... suitable meal. 

She starts feeling my eyeballs on her face, and slowly turns towards me. I do the same thing with Amber, but in a more polite way. However, I'm unable to hold myself hiding my teeth that carry a sharp, deadly edge to them. My grin is incredibly white and shiny, even when the moon is currently out.

"Hello there." 

_________________________________________

(A/N) And here's my first, actual chapter. 

Let me know what you guys think, since I would like to know your feedback to improve my writing and story. I wanted to do something new and unique for a Scream girl x Male Reader fanfic, as I've tried at least once before, but I lost my motivation easily there. This time, however, my typing flew by like a bird in the sky. 

Also, I don't know if I actually need to mention this, but please, don't actually take my Y/N's actions as something you should actually do, or encouraging. He's a homicidal psychopath who loves inflicting pain just because he can and will, so while he may become a character you will either love to hate, or helplessly love because he's Amber Freeman's love interest, don't take him as a symbol. 

This story is meant to make fun of certain people that romanticize serial killers in a darkly comedic way while also telling a twisted love story, and not at all encouraging these acts of violence.

Plz vote and comment, any counts as feedback, add this to your library so you are notified of each update, and I'll see you in the next one!