THE NOW NINETEEN-year-old sat on the seat in the quiet room, bobbing his leg up and down with his arms crossed. Before him was an aged African American, sporting bifocals and a maroon button-up shirt. He had a journal on his lap.

"Again, I'm glad you could make it here today, Mr. L/N." He said.

He nodded and muttered. "Yeah."

"Let's kick it off with a simple question: How are you?"

Y/N let out a breath and sat back. He stayed quiet for a bit before shrugging.

"Good. I guess."

The therapist, Dr. Thompson, didn't believe it based on his body language.

"Really?" He replied. "Then...how's life been going for you so far?"

"Good." Y/N responded again but this time with a feigned smile.

Again, Dr. Thompson showed doubt. Y/N noticed his expression and let out a breathy chuckle.

"Yeah, that's not good enough, huh?" He asked the older man.

"It's really not." Dr. Thompson said as he jotted something down. "But it's understandable."

Y/N nodded and looked down. Dr. Thompson glanced back at the young man.

"Trauma takes time to get over. In some cases, it may never go away. But getting all the help you can get to deal with it...well...helps."

"Pretty simple way to put it." Y/N replied.

"An honest take." The therapist said. "So...since this is our first meeting, be honest. If you want, you can start from the beginning."

Y/N let out a sigh. He sat up and folded his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. There was a beat before he decided to finally speak up.

"Well, you know why exactly I'm here, right? Because of the murders seven months ago?"

Dr. Thompson nodded. Y/N looked down at his hands.

"A lot changed that day. Not just for me...my family...but for all of those involved. The survivors..."

November 2022

The team was in a frenzy in the locker room. It was about to be kick-off and the coach assembled all the kids.

"Football season still kept going. I had been out for a while because of my injuries. The stab to the shoulder...to my side...the gunshot to my leg. But I was still there to rally the team as a captain."

"Still undefeated!" Y/N exclaimed to the team. "Let's go out there and keep it going. Blow them wide open and don't look back!"

The squad bellowed and shouted in unison. Y/N stretched his arm out and had them join him.

"For Chad!" He shouted.

They all responded. "For Chad!"

"Chad was your friend right?"

"More than that...like a brother."

"Was he one of the victims?"

"Yeah. He—he didn't make it through surgery."

Y/N met with Mindy on the sidelines. It came as a surprise as she never really came to home games before...even when her brother was alive.

"Mindy!" He called out.

"Hey." She greeted him back.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

"Everybody at school keeps nagging and talking about how good the damn team is. I wanted to see it for myself. Let's hope the streak doesn't end now that I'm here."

"Nah. Maybe you're gonna bring more luck."

The two shared a laugh. They then heard the Woodsboro High Panthers on the field shout as they prepared for kick-off. One of the players did a chant that Chad once did to hype up his teammates.

Mindy looked on and her smile fell. Y/N took notice and put his arm around her.

"It hit us hard. Chad's passing."

"I'm sorry."

"She lost her twin brother. Just—Just like me."

"So, you share the same trauma?"

"Yeah. And we're there for each other because of it. And in a way...I'm fulfilling the promise I made Chad that day."

"Which is?"

"At the party...he said to make sure nobody puts a knife in his sister's back, jokingly. And...I told him that he can count on me. So that's what I'm doing...having her back."

The Panthers ended up winning the game, keeping their undefeated season alive. Y/N was elated at how resilient the squad was despite being without their stars in Chad Meeks-Martin and Y/N L/N.

After most of the team went home, Y/N volunteered to clean up the locker room. He was alone, sorting the uniforms and equipment.

Suddenly, he heard faint footsteps. He stopped and looked around but saw no one. He expected a person to come through the door but nobody came in.

He heard a noise again and spun around, seeing nobody still. Y/N stood silent, deciding not to call out or shout. He put down the helmet and slowly made his way down the row of lockers.

Y/N diligently made his way to the end and looked around the corner, but saw nothing once again. He let out a sigh before turning back around.

Immediately, he was met with the presence of a man in a black robe. He let out a shout and flailed his arms, trying to scare Y/N. He didn't even have a weapon or Ghostface mask...just a white paper bag.

That was his mistake though. Y/N immediately punched the man and slammed him against the lockers.

"Argh!"

The man fell to the floor and was immediately met with a succession of hits toward his head. He tried pleading for Y/N to stop as he removed his mask.

"Wait! St—Stop! Stop!"

It was falling on deaf ears.

Y/N landed a kick then another to his face. He then picked him up by the collar and pinned him to the locker, where he wrapped his hands around his neck. Y/N started to choke him.

All he saw was red as the young man was losing breath. Suddenly, a couple of other students ran in and saw what he was doing.

"Shit! Stop!"

They ran up and tried pulling him off, but Y/N shoved them back and kept choking the prankster. Finally, one of the coaches came in after hearing the commotion.

"L/N!" He exclaimed and ran over to him. "Y/N!"

The coach tried pulling him off but it was still a struggle. The older man kept shouting.

"You're killing him, Y/N! You're killing him!"

Those words seemed to snap Y/N out of his trance and he immediately let go. The prankster fell on his bottom and coughed, his eyes bloodshot from the strangulation.

Y/N caught his breath and looked down. The two students knelt and checked on their colleague while the coach was stunned at the situation.

"Seems like you experienced an episode of PTSD."

"Oh, is that what it was?"

"A couple of assholes wanted to get a reaction out of you."

"And they got one."

"Do you regret it?"

"What?"

"What you did."

"Yes, because after that...is when I started to see them."

"Them?"

He looked back up. "Yeah."

Y/N was at home. He had taken a shower and dried himself in the bathroom, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

The young man sighed, thinking about how he'd have to deal with the fallout of what happened earlier that night tomorrow at school. They had already told Marco and he said he'd go to talk to them as well.

Y/N looked down as he leaned against the countertop, closing his eyes. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

"You felt that rush."

The young man looked back up and saw someone behind him through the mirror. He immediately spun around and saw no one but upon looking back he still saw him.

It was Mickey Altieri.

"What the fuck?" Y/N muttered.

"That's your greeting to seeing your wonderful uncle?"

"Fuck you. I don't even know you."

"Might not have been able to see my nephew face to face...but I can tell we're cut from the same cloth."

"Shut up."

Y/N immediately went for the door as Mickey kept calling out.

"You can't escape it, Y/N."

He left the bathroom and went straight to his room. He shut the door and was about to start changing, but another voice spoke.

"You made it out."

He spun around and looked into the mirror on his closet door. He saw Dylan standing beside him.

"Lived another day...another day for you to realize."

"No." He shook his head and started getting his clothes. "Shut up."

"You almost snuffed out that boy's life. I would've gone all the way."

Y/N didn't respond. Dylan kept speaking.

"There's no denying who you are, little brother. Remember...you either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

"I said shut up!" He exclaimed, putting on the last of his clothes.

Y/N immediately left his bedroom after changing. He went downstairs to the kitchen to grab his thermos of water, where he suddenly heard another familiar voice coming from the living room.

"You've already done it once."

There was a cold chill down his spine as he stepped away from the fridge. He slowly walked into the living room, where he saw Anthony. He wasn't seen in a reflection but was just there. Standing.

"You've killed already. Your own twin brother. What is stopping you from moving on to others?"

"I killed you because you're a monster."

"Ironic."

"Fuck you. Do you remember what you did to Tara? To Dad? To Dylan? You're the fucking psycho."

"We all go a little mad sometimes." He replied with a smirk. "Norman Bates. Psycho. 1960. Also said by Billy Loomis before shooting Randy Meeks."

Y/N scoffed, not knowing what to say. Anthony stood in the same spot and didn't move.

"Like Dylan said...you live long enough...endure the pain of your internal thoughts...you're bound to snap. There and then...you will see."

"You're wrong."

"What did you feel?"

"What?"

"When you killed me?"

Y/N didn't respond. Anthony continued.

"Did you feel happy? Gratified?"

"I was relieved because I kept you from hurting more people."

"That's what you say....what you told Tara. But I think deep inside...you enjoyed that rush. Like Uncle Mickey said. We're all sick fucks. It's in our blood."

"Dad and I—"

"Dad didn't bat an eye when he emptied a clip into Mickey decades ago. I bet he liked it too. You did the same...and enjoyed it."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. If you could've, you would've loved killing Amber...killing Richie. But what a shame, you only had to settle with me. Was that enough to quench your bloodlust?"

"Shut up—"

"Everywhere you look you're going to see it...something that triggers you until you finally go all the way and kill again. It can be a bully...a classmate...a random ass pedestrian..."

"No—"

"And even then when you finally kill again...you won't feel regret—"

"Stop!"

"You'll feel gratified...because you're a sick fuck like the rest of us."

"Shut the fuck up!"

Y/N immediately tossed the thermos of water at Anthony, but he had vanished and it hit the television instead. Marco heard the commotion and came downstairs where he saw the broken screen and his son panting.

"Y/N?"

The young man kept heaving. Marco went up to his son and grabbed his shoulder which caused Y/N to flinch.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?"

Y/N turned to his father and sobbed, lunging and hugging him. Marco held his son and rubbed his back.

"I don't know...I don't know what I am." Y/N cried. "I'm scared, Dad. I don't want to be like them."

Marco took a breath and kept embracing his son. He understood that he was still dealing with what happened last month. They both worked together to deal with it.

"I'm here, buddy." He replied. "I'm here."

Dr. Thompson finished jotting down some words in a section of his book. He looked back at the young man.

"So you have a support system?" He asked.

Y/N nodded. "My dad. Mindy. Sam's still there. And Tara."

"Hm. All involved one way or another with the events at the party."

"Guess you could say we share trauma."

Dr. Thompson nodded. Y/N took a breath and continued.

"My...my girlfriend, she has been so understanding with what I'm going through."

"Girlfriend?"

"Tara. I—I've known her since we were little because Sam used to babysit me and my brother. Been good friends throughout high school and we got together last year in May."

Dr. Thompson simply nodded. Y/N kept speaking.

"She's gone through worse but treats me like I've dealt with the brunt of the pain. She's caring like that...I feel like I don't deserve her."

"Compassion." He replied. "On both sides. That's good."

Y/N nodded, slightly smiling. "Yeah. I love her."

December 2022

Y/N and Tara were at the girl's house sitting on the couch watching a movie. She was flushed against him with her head on his shoulder. Tara still had a cast on her foot but was told it'd be removed in about a week.

They were at the tail end of In The Heights when Y/N suddenly spoke.

"I've really liked it so far."

"I know you would. You always have a soft spot for musicals." She replied.

"Guilty."

Sam came downstairs and saw the young couple. She smiled as she went toward the door.

"What have you been watching?" She asked.

"In the Heights." Tara replied.

"Ugh. Didn't really like that."

"Because you have bad taste." Y/N butted.

"Whatever."

"Where are you going?" The younger sister asked.

"Oh. I got a job interview at that cafe in town." Sam answered. "I think I got a shot."

"Rooting for you."

"Same here." Y/N added with a fist pump.

Sam chuckled and opened the door. "I'll be back in about an hour or so."

She left the house, leaving the two alone. Their mother, Christina, wasn't in town because she was on yet another business trip. Tara figured it was just an excuse by her mom so that wouldn't be around Sam, who she basically now despised.

The movie concluded about ten minutes later. Credits played and Y/N reached for the remote to look for something else to watch. Suddenly, he was kissed on the cheek.

"Heh. Thanks." He said, eyes still on the TV.

He was then bombarded with more kisses, this time on his neck. It gave him chills and he let out a chuckle.

"I'm trying to pick out another movie."

"Forget about the movie." She breathed out, now capturing his lips.

They closed their eyes as their kiss deepened little by little. Tara tried getting her tongue into his mouth, successfully doing so after nibbling his bottom lip. He parted and caught his breath, looking at her.

She had lustful eyes and her stare turned Y/N on. He didn't even get to say anything before Tara kissed him again and straddled him.

They continued their passionate embrace, their tongues battling and teeth clashing. Tara adjusted herself but let out a groan of discomfort after moving her foot.

Y/N took notice and parted from their kiss, looking at her.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just..."

Y/N looked at her cast and then back at her. He rubbed the sides of her clothed torso.

"We shouldn't do this if it's going to hurt you." He told her.

"It's nothing. We could just be a little careful."

He let out a breath through his nose and shook his head.

"Believe me, I'm so turned on right now that being careful is going to be very hard."

Tara let out a chuckle. Y/N snickered back and caressed her cheek with his thumb.

"I don't want to hurt you more than you already are."

The girl understood her boyfriend's worry. She was still rehabbing from her broken ankle and he was also dealing with lingering effects from being stabbed in the shoulder blade.

She smiled and pecked him on the lips before getting off and sitting back down beside him. Still, she had an idea in mind that wasn't going to take a toll on them physically.

"Take it out." Tara said.

"Huh?"

"Take. It. Out."

He noticed her glance at his sweatpants, which already had a noticeable bulge from their moment earlier. Y/N looked back at her, seeing her unwavering gaze. Her stern words immediately told him she meant business.

"Uh...o—okay. Y—yeah." He stammered.

Y/N sat up quickly and pulled down his pants and underwear in one go. His semi-erect member was free and Tara immediately reached out to grab it. Her smaller hands wrapped around the organ and the sensation lit up every nerve in his body.

Tara slowly began adding pressure and pumping. Y/N's breath shuddered as he watched his girlfriend jerk him off.

"You like that?" She asked.

"Y—yeah." He muttered.

She kept doing so. Y/N's dick got harder within her palm and Tara was amazed.

"My God..." She breathed out. "You're getting bigger in my hand."

All Y/N could do was nod. Tara spat in her hand and then brought it back down at his penis. She used the lubricant to pump his shaft faster.

He closed his eyes. "Holy shit..."

"Look at me." She lowly demanded.

Y/N opened his eyes and looked at Tara, whose gaze was back at him.

"Look at me." She repeated, to which he nodded.

At that moment, Tara leaned in and brought the head of his dick to her lips. His entire body heated up and he let out another shuddered breath, his eyes still on her as she ordered.

She kissed it a few times and smirked before bringing it into her mouth, causing a groan to leave Y/N's lips.

"Fuck, Tara..."

She started to blow him, using her hand to pump what wasn't in her mouth. Y/N reached out and tucked some of her hair behind her ear as she did the deed.

He then moved the palm of his hand to the back of her head. Instinctively, he began to push her head down and make Tara go further down. It caught her off guard and she gagged, startling the boy.

"Oh, shit..." He stammered, Tara now sitting up. "I'm sorry."

"No..." Tara chuckled, wiping her lips. "I—I kinda liked it."

Y/N's worried expression slowly changed to one of surprise. He let out a quick laugh.

"Oh."

Tara leaned in and kissed him. She parted but only an inch away, still very close to his face. She spoke tenderly.

"I want you to fuck my face. Okay?"

Y/N was stunned by the request but ultimately agreed. "O—Okay."

She smirked and went back to his dick where she continued to blow him. As she asked for earlier, Y/N grabbed the back of her head and began to slowly thrust his hips.

Tara stayed in place as Y/N gradually sped up, his cock going in and out of her mouth. It would hit the back of her throat and cause her to gag but would still egg him to keep going.

"Fuck..." Y/N groaned, his dick pistoning passed her lips. "You're amazing, Tara."

He wouldn't have been surprised if she had a praise kink because after his compliment she went deeper. Her lips reached the base of the shaft and Y/N was in her throat, which caused him to grunt.

"Shit!" He muttered. "Holy fuck."

Tara lifted her head and caught her breath for a second before going back down on his dick. She kept blowing him and Y/N kept fucking her mouth.

"Tara...I'm about to cum." He breathed out.

She took her mouth off his penis and looked at him, still holding it by her cheek.

"On my face." She said. "You want to cum on my pretty face, don't you?"

Y/N didn't say a word and just nodded. Tara kept stroking his cock and teased her boyfriend with her dirty talk.

"Want to cum all over me to show everyone I'm yours?"

"Fuck yeah, Tara." He breathed out. "You're mine."

She grinned and kept jacking him off, also slapping the head of his erection on her tongue as she did. It wasn't long until Y/N finally orgasmed and released.

"Fuck!"

His white glossy fluid went all over her face and even hit her eye, which garnered a laugh out of her. Y/N caught his breath as a smile grew.

"Tara..." He muttered, not knowing what to say.

She snickered again, her face still covered in her boyfriend's fluid. It was like she didn't even notice or care it was there.

"Was that any good?" She asked.

"You—you were..." He chuckled. "So good."

"Thanks."

They sat there for a few seconds before Y/N pointed behind him toward the bathroom.

"I—Uh...let me go get you something to..."

He gestured at his own face and Tara knew what he was inferring. She nodded and slapped her thigh.

"Right. Good idea."

Y/N smiled, pulling his underwear and pants back up and then getting off the couch.

"When I get back and help you clean up, let me pleasure you next." He said. "It's the least I could do."

She smirked. "Can't wait."

Y/N quietly chuckled and then went toward the bathroom. Tara sat there looking at her hands and clutching the blanket underneath her arms.

Suddenly, the door opened. Sam came in and let out a groan. Tara was startled but decided to keep looking forward and not turn around.

"Hey." Sam greeted.

"Heyyyy..." Tara replied.

"Guy wasn't there yet. Can you believe it?" The older sister scoffed. "They said to come back later, so..."

"Oh. Okay."

Sam noticed that her young sister was covering one side of her face and still had her back toward her. She ended up shrugging it off.

"I'll go fix myself a snack or something. Where's Y/N?"

"In the bathroom."

"Okay. Hey, maybe I'll join you two for the next movie."

Sam went into the kitchen. Tara kept sitting there, waiting for Y/N to come back with tissue paper. She reacted and responded to Sam's plan.

"Yay."

Y/N continued his session with Dr. Thompson. He kept writing notes in his journal dealing with the young man's experiences through his senior year.

"Where do you plan on going to college?" He asked Y/N.

"The only place that gave me a football scholarship was Blackmore all the way out in New York. That's cool though. Tara and Mindy are going there too."

"That is indeed cool." He replied.

"Guess we're looking forward to getting out of Cali and...I don't know...have a sort of fresh start."

"And that's good."

"Just a couple of more weeks left. Prom in a few days. Then graduation. All that jazz."

Dr. Thompson nodded. He looked back at his journal and flipped to some previous pages.

"Let's circle back to...uh...what you described with...uh...I guess...your guilt."

"What?" Y/N asked.

"That's what you felt right? About your brother? Do you...somewhat maybe...regret killing him?"

There was a beat. Y/N thought he would've felt angry or stunned at his question...but he didn't have that reaction. His expression was stoic as ever.

"No." He replied.

"No?"

Y/N shook his head. He looked to the side as he fiddled with his hands.

"That clip. Those seven bullets I put into him. He deserved every one of them." He admitted.

Dr. Thompson had no response and simply stared at him. Y/N finally put his eyes on the therapist, his gaze now cold and similar to the apparition who paid him a visit months ago.

"If I had another clip with me...I would've emptied that one too."