A/N: Thank you everyone for waiting patiently for this last chapter. As a reward, this will be the longest chapter of this entire book. Each part of the chapter is separated by images, meaning there are three parts to this chapter. Each part is longer than the one before it

Word Count: 7k

Part I:  

"Man, I thought she was dead."

Fed up with the tender moment you and Stu were having, Billy spoke up. "Alright, alright. You get the gun, and I'll untie pops, okay?" He addresses his partner.

Stu stands still, hesitant to comply with Billy. You had calmed down, no longer crying, but his concern for you hadn't died down.

"Now!" Billy barks when Stu doesn't immediately obey his order.

Stu winces at his tone, submitting to him, "Okay."

The second you are no longer in the loving embrace of the killer, you teeter unable to stabilize yourself. You rely on the kitchen island next to you to prevent yourself from collapsing. Much like Stu, your deep wound would not stop bleeding even as you persisted in putting pressure on it. It was an odd sensation to feel the blood escaping you. The warm bodily fluid stains your hand and the surrounding fabric of your shirt.

Billy, once again, turns his attention back to Sidney, holding the knife in her face in a threatening manner.

Stu hobbles over Neil's body to the kitchen counter next to the doorway. To his dismay, the gun was no longer there.

"Um. Uhh..." He taps the countertop, switching between his fingertips and knuckles in the exact spot he had placed the firearm earlier. "Houston, we...we have a problem," He expresses in distress.

"What?" Billy tilts his head, looking over to Stu.

"The gun! Man. The gun. I put it right there, and it's not there," Stu giggles, questioning if he's lost his mind.

Billy abandons the idea of holding Sid at knife-point and walks over to where Stu Stood. 

"Where the fuck is it?" He asks, mirroring Stu and looking down at the counter.

The sound of a gun cocking grabs their attention.

Billy looks up and is met with the barrel of the gun.

"Right here asshole," Gale Weathers holds the gun, standing mere feet away from the teen killers. The front door remains open from where she entered.

It was clear she had seen better days. Her perfectly sculpted hair now resembles a bird's nest. A long gash formed on her forehead spanning from the middle of it to the tail of her eyebrow. The gash was accompanied by harsh pink-ish, purple bruising that had accentuated the bruise on her cheekbone from taking a punch to the face. The skin around the corner of her mouth looked scraped, and blood began to bubble to the surface.

Her hand shook as she held the weapon. You weren't sure if it was because she was terrified or because she had survived a car crash and still made her way back to the house.

Billy didn't look the least bit worried, turning his head to Stu as he spoke, "Man, I thought she was dead."

"She looked dead, man. Still does," Stu remarks with a hint of snarkiness.

Gale doesn't let their words faze her, "I've got an ending for you. The reporter left for dead in the news van...comes to, stumbles on you two dipshits, finds the gun, foils your plan, and saves the day."

Sidney spoke up from behind them, "I like that ending."

Stu glances at her yet says nothing. He perks up when he notices you standing without the assistance of the kitchen island. He beckons you with a boyish grin, and you approach him without a second thought.

"I know something you don't," Billy informs the reporter, clearly undermining her as a threat.

The vicious killer walked toward Gale, holding his composure. With every step Billy took toward her, Gale stepped back. She began to panic as she tried pulling the trigger, but it wouldn't go off no matter what she did.

Billy grabs Gale's wrist, pushing it down for the gun to no longer be pointed at him. He rips the weapon out of her hand as he anchors his foot on her stomach. He kicks the poor woman through the front door doorway, sending her flying back into one of the pillars on the porch. She passes out from the impact, landing in front of Dewey's body.

"Yeah, man," Stu raises his bloodied fist, approving his partner's actions.

Billy walks up to their bodies, "Yeah. Aw, so sweet." He crouches to the floor next to Gale, holding the gun to her head, "It works better without the safety on." His head tilts to the side, neck popping in the process. He sighs out of satisfaction, walking back to the doorway with the weapon still pointed at Gale. "This is Gale Weathers signing off," He recites her tagline.

"Baby, you're gonna love this," Stu mutters close to your ear.

The gunshot echoes throughout the house, and you feel your ears ring. You can't bring yourself to look at the gruesome scene, turning your head the opposite way with furrowed brows. Your relationship with Gale was complex, and you can confidently say you didn't like the woman, but that didn't warrant her death. It was plain to see she had only stepped in to play ''hero'' and make a good story out of it, but look where that ended her up.

Billy's boots thud against the wooden floorboards as he draws closer to you. Seeing Stu continue to hover and dote on you bothered him to no end. His partner sustained far more injuries, yet you could barely stand on your own two feet after he stuck the blade within you. No matter, things would be coming to a close soon enough.

Fingers grip your jaw, forcing you to look forward. Billy tugs at your hand, cupping it for your palm to face the ceiling. Your hand weighs down at the feeling of something being placed on it. Your eyes trail down, and you gulp at the sight of the gun Billy used to kill Gale moments ago.

"Let's hope you can fulfill your promise, hm?" He lets go of your jaw as you firmly grasp the firearm.

Stu nudges you forward in the direction of Randy's unconscious body. He steps back, watching in anticipation, and trusting you wouldn't disappoint him or Billy. You still needed to prove yourself, and it was now or never.

The gun tremors in your hold as you raise your arm, pointing the weapon at Randy. If you pulled the trigger now, your aim would be off. The bullet might even miss the teen boy's body entirely.

You hear a sigh from behind you before Billy steps toward you. Arms snake around yours while hands come to cup yours. You can't help but stiffen at the contact, yet his touch seemed to stabilize your movements.

"Can't even do this on your own, tch," He scoffs at your inability to complete the one task they asked of you. You were so incapable of doing this that Billy had to take matters into his own hands–or more rather, take your hands into his.

Shame fills you with his poignant tone and unmistakable disappointment. You feel your face flush and the familiar feeling of your back running hot as a line of sweat drips down your spine.

"Sorry," You murmur, knowing it would mean nothing to him.

It became increasingly more challenging to focus on the task at hand. Your head felt fuzzy and merely forming a thought seemed daunting. Billy's chest pressed against your back certainly didn't help. You could feel him breathing down your neck, and everything felt too hot. It was strange. You thought blood loss would've made you cold and not into the overheating mess you were. Perhaps you were overreacting when Billy wounded your skin.

You yearned to separate your body from Billy's, but you had no control over yourself. You were only a shell of a person–a puppet for Stu and Billy to play with and manipulate the strings attached to your joints.

"Just relax. We can't afford to waste bullets, so get your head in the game, kid," Billy advises.

You do everything in your power to take his advice. The words replay in your mind like a broken record, making it your only sensical thought. If you couldn't do something as simple as relaxing, there was no way you would be able to kill–shoot Randy. The quicker you got this over with, the sooner you would escape Billy's bruising grip.

In reality, Billy's hold on you had been much gentler than how he handled you earlier.

Billy couldn't resist the cunning grin that spread across his face when he felt you relax into him. "See? You're doing great. Now what's gonna happen is, I'm going to aim where I need you to shoot, and all you have to do is pull the trigger, alright?"

Even in your dazed state, that should be easy enough for you to pull off. Billy was practically doing all the work for you. How considerate of him.

You nod slowly, not trusting your mouth to function and fearing a string of gibberish would escape from your lips.

The killer maneuvers your hands and cocks the gun. From this position, you could see exactly what he's aiming for: the dead center of Randy's forehead. After this, there was no going back.

With a deep breath in, you curl your fingers around the trigger before applying the needed pressure. You flinch back and squeeze your eyes shut when the bullet propels out of the chamber.

"No, wait–" Randy suddenly sits up, shielding his face with his hands out-stretched in front of him. By the time he protested, it was already too late. The bullet lodged into his face, leaving exposed layers of skin from the circular wound.

Had...had he been conscious the entire time?

You hadn't planned on looking at Randy after you, you know, but now you had to. Reluctantly opening your eyes, you're met with Randy's body, still lying unconscious and in the same position before you shot him. 

You couldn't possibly have imagined that, right? No way that didn't happen. But if Randy had been conscious, then why weren't Billy and Stu saying anything about it? 

Maybe you were mistaken in your blood loss hardly affecting you. Maybe you grew numb to the pain, and your brain decided to stimulate you through delusions. But...it sounded so real. You could hear the tremor in his voice the brief second you heard him. He was terrified to die, and you killed him. You shot him without so much as batting an eye.

"Atta boy," Billy applauds your commitment.

Your arms drop to your sides, the firearm dangling limply from your palm before it slips out of your hold, clattering to the ground. Billy's arms leave yours, and he pats your shoulder, giving it a good squeeze. He then reaches down to pick up the gun.

Stu strolls over, petting your hair, "See! I knew you had it in ya." His cheery tone was a jarring contrast to what you had just done.

Your eyes are screwed shut until you turn around, back facing Randy's body–his corpse.

"Is he..." You trail off, unable to let the words escape your mouth and keep your head hung low, staring blankly at the wood floor.

"Only one way to find out," Billy remarks, walking towards Randy.

Your shoulders jump to your ears at the piercing noise of an additional gunshot. 

Stu knit his eyebrows, watching Billy with an expression that screamed, 'Really?'

"Oh, come on. Don't give me that look. We can't afford any more mistakes like with Gale," Billy snidely tells his partner.

The taller teen put his hands up in defense, "I didn't say anything." He cranes his neck to glance back at Sidney in the kitchen, "Shit."

She was gone.

"What?" Billy asks.

Stu doesn't answer, barging into the kitchen with you and Billy hot on his heels. 

Part II:

"My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me."

"Where is she? Where is she?" Billy grumbles, pacing back and forth.

Stu hunches over in front of the fridge, coughing blood into his cupped hand, "I don't know, but I'm hurting, man."

Abruptly, the home phone rings.

"Fuck," Billy cursed.

"Should I let the machine get it?" Stu wonders.

Billy walks over to the phone, careful not to step on Neil, "Hello?"

"Are you alone in the house?" Sidney's modified voice asks, incorrectly referencing the 1976 film Are You In The House Alone? She really wasn't kidding when she said she doesn't enjoy watching scary movies.

Billy raises his head, "Bitch! You bitch! Where the fuck are you?" He scans the room, glancing back at the living room for any sign of her.

"Not so fast. We're gonna play a little game...."

Billy nudges Stu's shoulder with the gun, mouthing 'find her' to him and the taller teen, weakened by blood loss, takes a seat on the chair in front of the phone. Feeling frail yourself, you sit across from Stu, hoping to listen in and hear what your sister has to say.

Sidney puts away the voice changer, using her real voice, "It's called 'Guess who just called the police and reported your sorry motherfucking ass!"

Billy holds the gun to the back of Stu's neck, "Find her, you dipshit! Get up!"

Stu's right arm lies straight out on the counter, resting his head on his upper arm, "I can't, Billy. You already cut me too deep. I think I'm dying here, man," He sobs into his elbow.

It pained you to see him in such bad shape. A line of blood and spit ran from his lower lip, down to his chin. Blood stained his hands, coating each finger up to the knuckle. The right sleeve of his sweater was drenched in the red substance up to his forearm.

Having some remorse, Billy doesn't push any further.

"Talk to her. Talk to her," He whispers, handing the phone to Stu yet directly looking at you. He heads into the living room, leaving the two of you behind to converse with Sid over the phone.

Stu grabs the white corded phone, tarnishing it with blood. "Hello," His voice sounds mellow, a clear juxtaposition to his roaring excitement from earlier.

"Oh, Stu, Stu, Stu. What's your motive? Billy's got one, the police are on their way. What're you gonna tell them?" Sidney sneers at him.

"Peer pressure. I'm far too sensitive," Stu immediately replies.

Billy snatches the phone from Stu's flimsy grip, "I'm gonna rip you up, you bitch! Just like your fucking mother!" He threatens her, unable to restrain his hair-trigger temper.

"You've gotta find me first, you pansy-ass momma's boy!" She gets the last word in, hitting Billy where it hurts.

"Fuck!" Billy shouts, throwing the phone in your direction. It slips from his sticky, blood-covered hand, hitting Stu at the base of his head.

"Ow," He mutters dumbfounded, "You fucking hit me with the phone, dick!"

Billy retaliates, swiping his hand against the kitchen island and effectively knocking over everything in reach. Several objects shatter against cabinets and cupboards, with shards of glass and ceramic flying everywhere.

The peeved killer storms into the living room, "Fucker, where are you?!"

He creates a ruckus by flipping over the lamp table, causing beer bottles and solo cups to clatter onto the carpet. He cuts into the couch cushions with the knife, tearing the fabric apart with his bare hands. Feathers escape from the cushion cover, floating in the air when Billy throws it behind him.

"Aaagh! You fuck!" He cries out as he continues to tear the room apart.

You had never seen Billy so enraged; Sidney really had gotten under his skin. It shouldn't have surprised you since they were dating and all before any of this. Of course, Sid would know which buttons to push to get on Billy's nerves.

You had a front-row seat to Billy's hissy fit. For a majority of his outburst, he remained in your line of sight, but you didn't need to look over to know what was happening. Sounds of furniture being flipped over, more glass shattering, possibly from the coffee table or additional beer bottles, and the unmistakable hollering from the infuriated teen.

Stu picks up the phone again after it was thrown at him, "Did you really call the police?"

"You bet your sorry ass I did," Sidney responds brashly.

"My mom and dad are gonna be so mad at me," Stu extends the e in me, his voice rising in pitch as he wails into the phone.

"Aaah! Bitch!" Billy shouts, standing in the wreckage he created and covered in feathers from the cushions. The feathers clung onto the most bloodied surfaces, his arms, and shirt. He hardly looked intimidating, holding the knife and gun in separate hands when his hands were accessorized with the white plumage.

Abruptly, Billy stops, seemingly has gotten most of his aggression out, and sets his eyes on Neil. The teen stomps over, crouching in front of the older man, and removes the duct tape from his mouth.

"You're gonna tell me where Sidney went, or I'll seriously make you regret it," Despite Billy's harsh words, there wasn't an ounce of irritation in his tone, though you could see the glint of malevolence in his eyes. He spoke matter-of-factly and with a straight face nonetheless. 

This was a side of Billy you had never seen (besides his murderous tendencies), and it terrified you. You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but he wasn't playing games anymore.

Neil shudders when Billy firmly presses the gun to his forehead, "I-I don't know. Really! I swear–I swear, she didn't tell me what she was doing. She just left the kitchen without a word."

"Hm, so you say."

Neil braces for impact when Billy, unsatisfied with his answer, raises his hand, holding the gun to pistol-whip him. When nothing happens, he opens his eyes to see you, his son, knelt next to him and Billy, your hands engulfing Billy's, in an attempt to stop him.

"Billy, stop! Please...don't hurt him. He didn't do anything, s–so let's find Sidney on our own, o-okay?" You speak softly, trying to reason with him.

Billy rips his hand away from yours, breathing heavily. You expect him to lash out again, maybe even hit you instead of your dad, but he turns his back to you.

You pull your hands back, folding them in your lap, and silently watch as Billy stares into the living room. He takes a moment to calm down, inhaling and exhaling deep breaths. He knew you were right as much as he didn't want to admit it. Harming Neil wouldn't accomplish anything and would only prolong the search for Sidney. God, she just had to ruin his plans for the hundredth time tonight. She sure knew how to piss him off.

After calming down and forming a new plan, Billy faces Niel and re-covers his mouth with the duct tape. You remain put, waiting for Billy's next course of action while your father glances back and forth between you and him, off-put by Billy's tranquility after the killer nearly hit him.

Billy stood up, looking down at you, "Get up." 

You look up at him perplexed and hesitate to do so. 

"I said get up!" So much for being calm.

Billy seizes your arm, forcing you to stand. He yanks you forward to situate you in front of him. The bloodied blade makes minimal contact with your skin as you stiffen to the cold touch on your throat. Another object adheres to your temple–the gun. You can already feel the barrel start to imprint from Billy's iron grip.

"Walk," Billy demands, prodding you with his foot.

You walk forward on shaky legs, entirely unaware of which direction to walk in. No matter, the disgruntled teen jerks you left and right to where he intends. He does so with precision, attempting to keep his anger at bay. You were far too valuable to him and Stu for him to "accidentally" harm any farther.

"Come out, come out wherever you are~ Don't even think about pulling any stunts or so help me, I will slit your little brother's throat. I'm feeling generous, so I'll give you 'til the count of 10. Ten, nine, eight..."

Oh, fuck. Was he bluffing or being serious? Billy wouldn't have made you go to great lengths to prove your loyalty, just to lie and dispose of you regardless, right?

You would've attempted to wriggle out of his hold if not for the blade at your throat. Either way, you had to have some faith in Billy and his plan to use you to lure Sid out into the open. Your life was in his hands, which, oddly enough, was not much different than earlier.

As Billy's countdown neared its end, you couldn't help feeling anxious and decided to go along with the act. Or what you hoped was an act.

"Sid, please. I-I don't wanna die," You forced tears to well in your eyes and purposefully made your voice crack, hoping it would convince your sister to comply.

For better or for worse, she gave in. The door of the closet built into the stairs slowly creaked open. Sidney stepped out of hiding, donning the Ghostface costume, except for the mask held in her hand. She didn't dare to move, fearing what would be done to you if she had.

"You've got me right where you want, Billy. Now, what?"

Billy removes the gun from your temple, aiming the firearm at your sister. "What's gonna happen is we're all gonna head back to the kitchen in a civilized manner. Think you can handle it? I'm not letting you ruin this for me, Sidney. Any sudden movements and I'll shoot you and kill your brother, got that? "

While Billy's belligerence only fueled Sidney's defiance, she was left with no choice but to abide by the murderer's terms. He clearly had the upper hand, and the last thing Sid wanted to do was put both you and her in immediate danger.

Once everyone relocated back into the kitchen, it was time for the final act.

Part III: The Final Act

"...let's make things interesting, shall we?"

Billy continues to hold the knife's blade to your throat, finally relenting when he's ordered Sidney to stand next to the stove in front of her father. The poor girl listens fearfully and follows his command for her family's sake. Regardless of Sid's obedience, Billy keeps the gun trained on her figure, just as Stu had been earlier. She was not going to wriggle her way out of this.

Billy holds out the knife to you, the blade in the palm of his hand while the handle is pointed towards you. You look up from his hand, staring at him curiously.

He jerks his hand closer to you, "Listen, kid, I appreciate all you've done to show your commitment and all...but you can't seriously think we're done. It'd be a shame if you only had a kill count of one, so let's make things interesting, shall we?"

Was Randy not enough? How was he not enough? You've diligently obeyed them and gone along with their plan, without so much as a peep, so why wasn't Randy's death enough for them? Was it because you couldn't kill him on your own? Because you needed Billy to help you? Billy's been nothing short of repugnant the entire night, but he wouldn't hold that over you, right?

Where did everything go wrong? You did everything right, even going as for as ensuring your survival over your own family. You had taken being stabbed like a champ–well, you handled it as best as you could manage. Why would Billy want more from you? Was this some sort of test?

It was either Stu or the unthinkable. You couldn't bear the idea. There was no way Billy would ask you to do that. There was no way you would be able to, considering how much you struggled to pull the trigger when it came to Randy.

Oh, who were you fooling? This was going to happen all along. You were so preoccupied with guaranteeing your survival that you felt blindsided by the revelation. You and your family were not meant to live. You happened to be the exception because you renounced your family name and sided with the boys who ended your mother's life the year prior. Not once had you attempted to save your family in any shape or form. Hell–you even aided Billy in coaxing Sidney out of her hiding spot.

It was one thing knowing your family would die, but it was another to be the one ending their lives. The realization left you reeling. It was a dizzying feeling as nausea overcame you, and you swayed in place, focusing on your stance in hopes of not passing out. If only you could have done something to prevent any of this from happening.

Two hands grasp your shoulders, clutching them as Billy helps keep you steady and grounded. "Looks like you already know what you need to do. Good. You're a lot sharper than you look, kid."

There isn't a doubt in your mind that Billy would easily overpower you if you stepped out of line. He had the least life-threatening injuries and seemed well-versed in handling a firearm. You were out of your league and way out of your depth. No wonder it was such a shock for everyone when you decided to favor your life above your family.

This is where your naivety landed you.

With the knife in your possession, your hand trembles. Were you really going to do this?

"N-No, no! I can't...I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't–I just...I can't," You brought your hands up to your hair, tugging at the strands without injuring yourself with your weapon.

"Y/N–" Sidney starts but is silenced when Billy cocks the gun.

The killer sighs, "You don't have a choice. The sooner you do it, the quicker it'll be over with, alright? You've already done it, so what's another body?" The teen says nonchalantly.

You shake your head over and over, pulling at your scalp in trying to wrap your head around everything. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This–This is different! It's different, Billy. It's different. I'm not gonna do that–I can't!" Your voice wavers through your erratic breathing as you cry out.

Billy huffs at this. You truly had horrible timing when it came to your fits. 

"Stu," He calls out his partner's name.

It takes a second for the words to register to the wounded teen, "Hm?"

"C'mere."

They wait patiently as Stu rises, painfully slow, might I add, from his seat. The teen staggers every step of the way despite them being mere feet from each other. You felt bad for him, he looked seconds away from passing out, and you knew just how much pain he was in.

Billy works quickly, unwilling to waste any more time, and knowing Stu's condition was critical. Once Stu was in close-enough reach, Billy hands him the gun, entrusting his partner with it.

Obedient as ever, Stu wordlessly accepts the weapon and keeps Sidney at gunpoint. Billy stoops down over your father, using all his strength to heft the man up until Neil is stood before you.

You considered looking the other way, only to realize that you would be faced with your other family member trapped by another killer, so you train your eyes on the ground. If looks could kill, the tile floor beneath you would have shattered into microscopic pieces.

Your hands shake as you let go of your scalp, the skin undoubtedly irritated from Billy's manhandling and any additional damage caused in your panicked state.

"Y/N, look at me," Billy orders, standing behind Neil as he holds him captive.

You wanted nothing more than to look past your father, not sparing a single glance at him, and solely look at Billy, but it was impossible. The second you turned to them, your eyes locked onto the heart-wrenching sight of your injured father being held up by the teen killer.

Under normal circumstances, Neil could have fought tooth and nail to fend off the Ghostface killers to protect his kids. Unfortunately for him, the mischievous, little shits were smart enough to leave him wounded and weak enough that he was still walking and breathing but lacked the strength to fight back.

Frustrated at your lack of response, Billy barks out your name. You snap your attention to him, broken out of your trance.

Billy smiles sweetly, "Listen, I know this can be stressful and all, but I promise it'll be over before you know it. Your dad's looking pretty weak, just look at him. He doesn't have much time left, so you'd be doing him a favor by putting him out of his misery. I mean, isn't that what you did with Randy? What's so different about it this time?"

You looked down at your hands, still shaking and barely holding onto the knife's handle, as you mull over Billy's questions. What was the difference between the two?

"But..." Your lip trembled, "He's m-my dad."

"Oh? I thought you said you weren't a Prescott anymore. What happened to disowning the family name?"

You huff but keep your mouth shut.

"You should be glad I'm even giving you this opportunity. If I had it my way, I'd take my sweet time with him, and he'd wish he were dead. C'mon, wouldn't you rather be in control of the situation? You can put a swift end to all of this, Y/N."

Billy made a good point. Wouldn't it be better to end all this and not continue to drag things out any longer? Besides, you couldn't bear the thought of your father enduring further torment from Billy.

You look up from your hands, filled with determination, but it all fizzles away when you face your father again.

His eyes met yours, pleading for you not to do this.

"Fuck..." You groan. Why couldn't this be as easy as it was with Randy? There was no time for you to emotionally detach in this state. The stress of being in a life or death scenario, and the adrenaline that came with it, kept you relatively distracted from feeling the extent of your injuries, but that could only go on for so long.

"Tch, I should've guessed you wouldn't go through with it," The irritation in Billy's voice doesn't go unnoticed, and you half-except him to take it out on you or your father.

Seeing as lashing out solved nothing, he remained calm as the cogs in his mind began turning for the optimal outcome. If there was one thing Billy excelled in, it was scheming.

His lips curl as a malevolent glint eclipses his blown-out pupils, "Don't get your hopes up. I'll just have to help you out...again."

Before you could question Billy, he lurches Neil's body forward. Billy had taken advantage of your unresponsive state, taking matters into his own hand. 

If only you had dropped the knife or simply not hold it in front of you at the perfect height to cause a fatal wound to the man you considered a father.

The blade pierces through his stomach with little to no resistance. Thrown off-balance, Neil only sinks further until the hilt of the knife is flush against his skin. Though it aided in plugging the wound and preventing him from bleeding out, you froze when the blood seeped through his clothes, making contact with your unmoving hand. You just stood, petrified, watching the scene unfold right in front of your eyes, and unable to do anything.

The otherwise silent kitchen is subjected to the agonizing and muffled cries from the older man. Seems as though Billy's aim was spot-on.

Billy grabs Neil's shoulder and pulls him away from the blade. Neil sputters, tugging at the duct tape and finally freeing his mouth. He staggers away from you, almost stepping on Billy, in the process, until the ruthless killer nudges the injured man to get him to drop to the floor.

"Dad!" Sidney cries out, rushing over to him.

Stu makes no attempt to stop her, being too fatigued to bother.

The knife falls from your hand, droplets of blood splattering as it clangs onto the floor. You have no reaction towards the sound, frozen in bewilderment. In an almost robotic manner, you raise your hands to eye level. Sure enough, the tips of your fingers were tinted red.

"No," You whimper as your eyes settle to the edge of the kitchen where Sid sat crouched on the ground next to Neil.

Your legs give out beneath you, but the burn in your knees is nothing compared to the ache in your heart. This was nowhere near what you had imagined would happen when you begged to be spared. Never would you have anticipated your father becoming incapacitated at your hand.

Nevertheless, here you are, pitifully crawling along the tiled floor to reach your father. Your poor father did everything in his power to provide for his family, even if it meant being away from them. Your father put off going on business trips for an entire year after your mother's death. Your father, who had adopted you and only ever treated you as his son, nothing more and nothing less. The same man now lies on the ground struggling to maintain his breath.

When you reach your father's wounded form, you situate yourself across from your sister.

Sidney squeezes her father's hand, "It's fine. You're g-gonna be okay, dad," She croaks as tears cascade from her eyes.

Meanwhile, you struggle to keep the stab wound covered. There was far too much blood. The red substance dowsing the fabric of Neil's shirt, leaving both of your hands drenched in the fluid. It oozed out of the large wound like water trickling out of an overfilled bathtub as it leaked onto the tiled floor. No matter how hard you tried, he couldn't survive this, could he?

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, please. P-Please, I'm sorry," You manage to sob out between harrowing breaths. He couldn't die like this.

Neil grunts, trying to lift his head to look at you, "Y/N..."

Sid cuts him off, "Don't. Just save your energy," She warns him, running a comforting hand through his hair with a shaky grin.

Neil squeezes her hand, "It's okay. I know you're worried, but I need to...to tell you," He pauses to take as deep of a breath as he can with his injuries, "how proud I am to have raised you two. You'll be fine without me...you always have been. I'm sorry you had to be so independent," He tells her, wheezing worse than before.

Neil turns his head in your direction, "My son."

After all, you had done, he still considered you a son? His son.

You keep your head down, too much of a coward to meet his gaze. You couldn't possibly see why he would waste his breath on you, it was profound.

"Y/N, please," Your father pleads.

Reluctantly, you lift your head, tilting it towards him. Witnessing his capability to breathe worsening felt like being stabbed all over again.

Despite being on his deathbed, Neil still graces you with a smile, "I'll always love you...you know that, right?"

This wasn't the time to wallow in self-pity when you could cherish his last moments.

One of your bloodied hands reaches, firmly clutching his. "I know, I-I love you too, dad," You attempt to assure him, but the break in your voice is far from convincing.

Unfortunately, the killers couldn't afford to waste more time on heartfelt goodbyes.

Sidney feels a tug on the back of her jacket's collar, and before she can do anything, Billy keeps the fabric scrunched in his fist as he drags her across the kitchen floor. Fortunately, this action didn't choke her, but once they were on the other side of the kitchen, Billy shoves Sid flat on the ground, hovering over her with his rugged hands around her neck. Sid kicks her legs with all her might and claws at his hands, undoubtedly nicking his skin. Try as she may, Billy remained unaffected as he sat comfortably on Sid's stomach.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be," Billy snarls, irritated at the faint crescent-shaped imprinting on the dorsal side of his hands.

Desperate for air, Sidney makes an effort to scream but only manages a muted cough.

Billy rewards her with an uncanny smile, exposed teeth and all, delighted that something is finally going his way.

You tear your eyes away from the horrid scene, looking to your father as if to ask permission to leave his side and hopefully save Sidney. With a mournful expression, Neil nods, letting you go after a weak squeeze of your hand.

As awful as it sounds, you hesitate to depart from him. On one hand, he was dying, and what kind of child leaves their father in his last moments? On the other hand, your sister could also encounter the same fate at the hands of the ruthless killer.

You gnaw at your lips, struggling to stand as your legs tremble uncontrollably until you collapse.

Your knees sting, "Goddamn it," You groan. Things were not looking good for you.

With no other choice, you haul yourself across the floor to end Billy's torment.

Sidney eyes you when you get close enough to enter her field of vision. Your track record throughout the night had been spotty, but you were her only hope.

"Don't do this, Billy, please!" You beg, attaching yourself to his arms.

"You really know how to get on my nerves, kid," He growls, tightening his grip around her neck. One hand leaves Sidney's neck to reach for the knife.

Your heart dropped as he did so, fearing this was the end of your life. Instead, you were met with the sound of the sickening squelch of Billy driving the blade into Sidney's chest.

"No!" You screech, scooting closer to conceal the deep laceration. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no. This wasn't supposed to happen," You blabber, tears welling and clouding your vision.

Sidney chokes on her breath, gagging and hacking up blood. A mixture of saliva and blood dribbles out from the corners of her mouth, dripping down her neck and the sides of her face.

There was no saving her.

Despairing sobs escape you at this revelation. Your concern for your family's lives came too late.

"I'm s-sorry, Sid. Don't leave me, please! Please, I promise I did everything I could for you and dad," You wail to her in a frenzy, "I can't be alone. I love you, Sid."

Blood continues to spill out of her mouth as a noise similar to clearing her throat leaves her, "Y/N, I forgive...you."

Her vindication renders you speechless.

She gave her last ounce of strength to give you her final words, evident by the fluttering of her eyelids.

You remove your hands from her body, watching her chest falter with each excruciating breath until she becomes motionless. 

Sidney was dead.

Shifting your attention back towards your father, you observe his chest also unmoving. 

You had killed him.

An endless stream of tears spills from your eyes, slipping down your cheeks to your neck. You longed to wipe them away and stop feeling sorry for yourself, but all that would achieve is a face smeared with the blood of your dead relatives.

You let out a pathetic chuckle, "Bastards, both of you."

Stu, who still stood by the kitchen island, leaning on it for support, shook his head, donning the faintest smile.

"Don't act like you're so innocent," Billy quips, sitting on the floor and resting his head against the counter.

You hum, "Maybe your ri..." You pause, grunting and grabbing your stomach wound.

Both killers straighten up. "Y/N?" Stu mutters your name. "What's wrong?" Billy asks, silently panicking.

"I dun feel so gooood..." Your words slur as you fall back, hitting your head against the tile in the process.

Suddenly Billy's at your side, "Stu, call 911!"

Stu strides over to the counter, picking up the blood-coated corded phone and dialing the emergency number.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"M-My friends and I were attacked by a murderer. Please send help, he's–he's dying. We're at 261 Turner Lane," It was hard to tell if Stu was putting on another act or if his concern was genuine.

Billy slips his hand under your neck, cradling your head, "Come on, Y/N. You can't give up now," He huffs, brushing your hands away from your injury to apply the needed pressure to it.

You wince, "Ah–"

"I know, I know it hurts, but you're gonna be alright. The ambulance is gonna be here soon, and they're gonna help you, okay? You just have to hold out 'till then," Billy's voice and his pressure on your stomach were firm.

You were almost convinced he believed that.

"Billy..." You croak.

"Shhh, don't. Focus on staying awake. Look at me, look at me, Y/N."

You oblige.

He smiles, "That's it. Just look at me, and keep your eyes open. The paramedics are almost here."

Despite his simple request, it became increasingly difficult to manage by the second. At one point, you even nodded off.

Then Stu was there, gently nudging your shoulder, "C'mon, wake up. You can't sleep yet."

Eyelids fluttering, you force your eyes to remain open for their sake.

Stu caresses your shoulder with his thumb, "Hey, bud. You're doing great, keep it up. We're gonna put this behind us in just a sec."

Even after putting you and your family through hell, here the Ghostface killers were, keeping their end of the deal. It was nice to have them comforting you and reassuring your livelihood.

Normally, something like that would've warmed you up, but all you could feel was a bone-deep chill.

Your eyelids felt incredibly heavy, and your vision blurring certainly wasn't helping. You blink, trying to rid the black blocking your peripheral vision. Maybe all you needed to do was rest your eyes.

"M-Mom..."

Then everything faded to black.