Killer Geek (SLOW UPDATES)

Summer 1998

The aftermath was worse than the night itself.

In the days following the massacre at Stu’s house, the entire world seemed to turn its gaze on me, Randy, and Gale. Reporters swarmed Woodsboro, desperate for an interview, a new headline, a fresh angle on the bloodbath that had unfolded. Talk shows picked apart every gruesome detail, analyzing Billy and Stu’s motives, turning our trauma into primetime entertainment.

And then there was me—the sister of a psychopath.

The media latched onto my story like a leech. Some painted me as a tragic victim, a girl who had barely escaped death at the hands of her own brother. Others weren’t so forgiving. Rumors spread like wildfire—whispers that I had to have known, that maybe I was involved, that Billy and Stu spared me for a reason. Some even twisted it into something even more disgusting—a sick love triangle between me, my brother, and his best friend.

I stopped going outside. I stopped answering the phone. I stopped existing.

And then there were the nightmares.

Some nights, I was back in Stu’s house, standing frozen as Billy loomed over me, blood dripping from the bullet wound in his forehead. His dead eyes locked onto mine, his face twisted in rage. You did this, Y/N. You killed me! he would scream before lunging at me, knife raised—except he never reached me. I always woke up before he did.

Other nights, I was running. The woods stretched endlessly around me, rain pouring so hard I could barely see. But I could hear him. His laughter echoed through the trees, the Ghostface mask flashing between the shadows. You can’t run from me, Y/N! I’ll always catch you! Just as I felt his fingers graze my skin—I’d wake up.

I wasn’t alone in my suffering.

Randy and Gale had their own scars, their own ghosts. Gale buried herself in her work, spinning the tragedy into the biggest story of her career. I avoided her at all costs.

Randy, though—he was different. He survived, just like I did, but he tried to move forward in a way I couldn’t. He had escaped Woodsboro, built a new life at Windsor College. I envied him for that.

Meanwhile, I was trapped.

Everywhere I went, people stared. People talked.

At school, I could hear the whispers even when they tried to be subtle. Some people acted like I wasn’t there at all, like I was some kind of ghost haunting the halls of Woodsboro High. Others openly gawked, waiting for me to snap, waiting to see if I had the same darkness inside me that Billy did.

I didn’t talk to anyone.

My dad kept the reporters at bay as best he could. He ignored every request for interviews, shut down every talk show offer that wanted me to tell “my side” of the story. But the damage was already done.

For almost two years, I had lived under the weight of it all.

And now, I was finally leaving Woodsboro behind.

Windsor College was supposed to be my fresh start.

I told myself that over and over as I stood in the middle of the crowded campus, gripping my schedule so tightly the paper wrinkled beneath my fingers.

Here, no one whispered my name in hushed tones. No one looked at me like I was some kind of freak, the sister of a killer. Here, I could just be Y/N, another freshman trying to find her way.

Still, I couldn’t shake the unease curling in my gut. The nightmares had followed me here, lingering in the edges of my mind no matter how hard I tried to push them away.

A familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to join civilization.”

I turned, and there he was—Randy Meeks.

His grin was the same, that boyish charm still intact, but there was something different in his eyes. Something older. We had both been through hell, but Randy had managed to move forward. He had escaped the weight of Woodsboro in a way I hadn’t.

Still, seeing him now, standing in front of me like no time had passed, made something in my chest loosen.

“Randy,” I breathed, relief washing over me.

He pulled me into a hug, squeezing me tight. “Welcome to Windsor, Woodsboro’s very own final girl.”

I let out a small laugh, the first real one in a long time.

For the first time since that night, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I wasn’t completely alone.

Randy kept his arm slung over my shoulder as he guided me through campus, talking a mile a minute about everything Windsor had to offer.

“Okay, so over there is the library—pretty sure half the books in there are older than both of us combined. That building?” He pointed to a tall, brick structure. “That’s where they hold all the drama department’s plays. Pretty sure they did Othello last semester, and it was awful. Like, I think Billy could’ve given a better performance, and he was actually insane.”

I shot him a look, and he winced.

“Too soon?”

I sighed, but there was no real bite to it. “I don’t think there’ll ever be a good time for a Billy joke.”

Randy gave me an apologetic smile. “Duly noted.”

Despite the dark humor, I knew Randy was just trying to make me feel comfortable. And I appreciated it. He had been my one constant since that night, the only person who truly understood what it was like to survive.

Even after I pushed everyone else away, I let him in.

And he had done everything to be there for me.

He had been the only person I let take me on dates, even though I wasn’t ready for anything serious. He never pushed, never expected more than I could give. He was patient, always understanding, and somehow managed to make me feel normal when nothing else in my life had been.

The night of prom, when I refused to go because I didn’t want to deal with the stares and whispers, Randy showed up at my house in a suit. He had balloons, a bouquet, and a dorky little boom box playing some cheesy 80s love song.

I still remember the way he grinned at me and said, “Who needs a gymnasium full of assholes when we’ve got a backyard and a really mediocre speaker system?”

So, we danced. Just the two of us. No judgment, no rumors, no ghosts from the past lurking over my shoulder.

It had been one of the few moments in the last two years where I felt like me.

Now, as I stood here with Randy, letting him pull me into his world at Windsor, I realized just how much I had missed him.

“And this,” he said dramatically, dragging me toward a small café on the corner of campus, “is where I spend an unhealthy amount of money on caffeine and bagels. Seriously, they know my order by heart now.”

I smiled, letting myself enjoy the easy flow of conversation. “I can’t believe you actually function off bagels and coffee.”

“I’m a college student. It’s a requirement.” He held the door open for me. “C’mon, let me introduce you to the best overpriced coffee you’ll ever have.”

I stepped inside, inhaling the rich scent of roasted espresso. For the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe—just maybe—I was finally stepping into something new.

Away from Woodsboro. Away from Billy’s shadow.

And maybe, if I was lucky, I could finally start living again.