Warning(s): Swearing, mentions of death, grief, and underage drinking
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After a long day of work and school, you were absolutely exhausted. You needed to change before you passed out on the floor. Once you were clad in your pajamas, you collapsed onto your bed, practically melting at the feeling of your pillow against your face. You fell asleep moments later, but it was nothing to enjoy.
Your right leg bounced as you impatiently stared at your phone. You were biting your nails to the bone when your younger brother let out an aggravated huff. "Staring at your phone isn't doing anything. You're just making the wait feel longer," he told you as he took the seat beside you.
You anxiously rubbed your hand up and down your thigh. "He said he'd call as soon as he took care of everything. That was fuckin' forever ago!" you snapped, getting up from where you sat. You knew what this possibly meant, but couldn't bear to say it.
"Fighting a serial killer isn't a five minute type of thing. I'm sure he's fine," you brother tried to reassure you, but you were already pacing back and forth as terrible things flooded your mind.
Just earlier, Dewey called you and explained he was headed to the hospital to handle a Ghostface issue. He also said that if he got back, the first thing he would do is call you. If? Surely he knew you were smart enough to detect that 'if' he snuck in. The whole way over to the hospital, he talked to you and your little brother over the phone. The whole conversation gave a gnawing feeling in your stomach. It sounded like he was saying his last goodbyes. You didn't even have a chance to reply when he told you, "I love you, kid," before he hung up the phone.
You were planning on going to the hospital yourself. No way was that going to be the last words Dewey would tell you, not if you could do anything about it. Especially not after the way you left things. But your brother refused, blocking the door off when you got up to leave. He didn't want you going down the same path family have gone down in the past.
You found out an hour later. You froze for a good minute when you heard the first responder speak. A part of you knew what was in store when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. After snapping out of it, you looked at your brother—there was no time for wallowing. You grabbed him and rushed down to the hospital. You thought you were numb before, but you had no idea what numbness was until you saw Dewey's lifeless, blood stained, body being covered by a black tarp.
I should've been there... I should've been there...
From the corner of your eye, you saw how your brother's eyes never pulled from the tarp that covered Dewey before he broke out into sobs. You immediately wrapped an arm around him as he sobbed into your shoulder.
As numbness enveloped you, you thought back to just an hour ago; Dewey was being gutted in cold blood while you were safe and sound in his trailer.
You should have been there.
You jolted awake, your head was throbbing, and you were drenched in sweat. You quickly sat up, your breathing rapid, while you rubbed your eyes. Your eyes then frantically looked around your dark surroundings; you were no longer in Woodsboro. You were in New York, inside your apartment, sitting on your bed.
Damnit.
You have been having the same dream—well, nightmare, for the last few weeks. It was the same one you had even months after Dewey passed, but they weren't as consistent come June. At least, that's what you thought. Your mind was refusing to let you forget that wretched day, the day you just sat around as the man you looked up to as a father was taken from you.
—
You were drained. As a result of being met with the same horrible memory each night for the past couple weeks, you were getting at most two hours of sleep a night. As the anniversary of Dewey's death inched closer, your nightmares worsened.
Now it was 5 a.m, and there was still much time to pass before class began. You showered to wash off all the sweat from tossing and turning, and by the time you finished getting ready, it was only 6 a.m. You spent the rest of your morning watching sitcoms while enjoying a bowl of cereal at the front of the television.
You eventually left, off to your first class of the day. You loved history class, but unfortunately, your desk mate didn't take the class as seriously.
No matter how many seats were vacant that day, Tara always chose to sit beside you. You knew she was doing it solely to piss you off. The other day you fell asleep during class and woke up with your shoelaces tied together. If you weren't so tired, you would have countered with something like you would have in high school. You nearly smiled while thinking back to the pranks you pulled on each other.
Once you arrived at class, you sat down and immediately put your head down. You would have fallen asleep right then and there if it wasn't for the loud thud by your head. You looked and saw that Tara slammed down one of her books before sitting down.
The action made you lift your head while you rubbed your eyes. "And a good morning to you, Carpenter," you said in a tired, yet sarcastic, voice. You were still rubbing your eyes, maybe you could rub away the exhaustion.
"You look like shit," she remarked while putting down her bag.
"Hm? I zoned out—the stripes on that shirt are blinding."
The rest of the class went on like that; Tara making comments and you returning them. It really wasn't so different from Woodsboro, always picking fights and at each other's throats. But if you had to be honest with yourself, you didn't mind the distraction. It was nice. Tara Carpenter was good for something, not that you would ever tell her that. At least not without making her work for it.
As you were writing something down, a crumpled up piece of paper hit the side of your face. You glanced over to scowl at Tara before opening up the paper.
I need to copy your notes, read the note. This made you roll your eyes before looking at Tara again. She was looking up ahead, seemingly ignoring you. You looked back down at the paper, writing your reply. You threw it back to her before returning to your notebook.
Why can't you just write them yourself?
Tara exhaled with annoyance as she aggressively wrote again on the paper and chucked it at you. It hit your forehead, causing you to grumble as you read over the paper.
he talks way too fast I can barely understand what he's saying!!!
You sighed, rubbing your temples. Your sleep deprivation was beginning to catch up.
"After class," you mumbled in defeat.
Tara smiled as she looked back ahead, but her victory was short lived as she started drowning in her own thoughts.
Giving up so easily wasn't like you at all, you usually gave up more of a fight. She had noticed your drained expression when she walked in... but she decided not to dwell on it. This was you after all. She has already established countless times how hard you are to read.
Just enjoy the win, she told herself.
—
After you got through all your classes, you made it back to your apartment in one piece. You felt your eyelids grow heavier as you fumbled for your keys. You eventually inserted your key and unlocked the door to your apartment, barely feeling your legs as you walked inside with a foggy brain. You nearly knocked over a lamp on your way in. Anika was quick to notice this and rushed over to you.
"When was the last time you slept?"
You mumbled something she didn't pick up before landing on the couch. You let out a long sigh, putting your hand over your eyes to block out the light directly above you.
"This micro-sleeping crap you've been doing is clearly shit," she said as she put a couple pillows behind you.
"I'm fine," you murmured the blatant lie.
She ignored this. "I'm gonna heat up some chicken soup," she told you before going off to the kitchen. Anika has noticed how you have been growing more and more tired the last couple weeks. She was worried about her roommate but also knew you were too stubborn to ask or accept help.
A few minutes later, Anika returned with a steaming bowl and some toast. Instead of sitting up and accepting the food she made you, you only whined. Anika narrowed her eyes at you before tossing a piece of toast at you. The glare you sent her didn't faze her as she pushed the coffee table closer to you.
"You're eating. No complaints. You can't just live off of cereal and ramen."
You reluctantly picked up the toast that hit your face, taking a tiny bite. "Whatever," you mumbled between chewing.
Anika just rolled her eyes and brought you a water bottle from the fridge, choosing not to argue any further. At least you were eating now. Once you switched over to the soup, Anika sat down on the seat across from you. "What's been going on with you? And don't say 'nothing' because it's obviously something."
You stared at your soup, swirling the spoon around. "I don't feel like talking about it," you answered honestly.
Anika nodded in understanding. "That's okay—just know that I'm here if you do feel like talking at some point," she reassured. You subtly nod, still unable to look up from your soup. Anika accepted your response, getting up and walking to her room.
You stayed there for another hour or so, alone with your thoughts. Each one gnawed at you, screaming the same thing over and over again.
You should have been there.
—
It was another day in history class with Tara. She made a face at you for a comment you made, and just as she was about to say something back, the words 'group project' left the mouth of your professor. 'Pair up in twos' quickly followed. You gave each other a look before looking around and seeing everyone else already pairing away with someone.
That was the story of how you ended up at the Carpenter-Bailey residence. You tried to approach your professor about working alone but he only shook his head and told you it was not an option.
You sat down on their couch, your eyes curiously wandering, as you waited for Tara to return from whatever it was she was doing. She finally came back into view and you anxiously scrambled for your backpack. "Finally," you said.
"Still as patient as ever." She sat down a couple cushions over.
"Whatever. I just wanna get this over with."
"Did you just slip the title of your sex tape?" she teased.
You gave her an unimpressed look, about to respond, but the front door to the apartment opening stopped you. You looked over to see Tara's sister walking in with at least four bags that were full of what you assumed were groceries.
Sam adjusted the bags in her arms, finally looking up to address her sister. She wasn't expecting to also see you sitting on the couch; she opened her mouth to say something but the words escaped her when two of the bags slipped from her arms. Without thinking, you get up from your seat to help the other Carpenter. This doesn't go unnoticed by Tara as she stares at the sight.
Sam mumbled a 'thank you' after you both placed all the bags down on the coffee table.
"No problem," you quietly said back. Your hands slipped themselves into your pockets.
Sam cleared her throat as you made the short distance to your previous seat. "Tara, you didn't tell me you were having someone over," she said after turning to look at her little sister.
"It was last minute," she replied. "We have a group project, and unfortunately, I somehow got stuck with her."
Your head was down as you scribbled in your notebook, but you didn't let your reserved demeanor stop you from commenting. "Bet you say that about every girl," you sarcastically murmured.
"I'd officially introduce you, but I heard you've already had the displeasure," she continued.
"Yeah, we've briefly talked before. You can continue your project, but make sure your door stays open if you two move to your room—"
Tara's eyes widened. "—Okay! Thank you, Sam! It's—you don't need to worry about that," she exclaimed as she blushed.
You were now looking up from your notebook, blinking; your eyes shifted back and forth between the sisters.
"I still want it open," Sam insisted through Tara's flustered demeanor; the older Carpenter had skepticism written on her face.
"Okay, okay—I got it," Tara quickly answered.
After finally dropping the topic, Sam left to store away the groceries she brought in. Just seconds later, you found yourself trying to fight an amused expression, leaving you with a downward smile.
"Shut up," you heard Tara say beside you.
"Didn't say anything," you replied before a chuckle escapes you.
She elbowed you. "Let's just start—unless you plan on flirting with my sister anymore," she added with a bitter tone.
Her comment caught you off guard, etching a lost expression on your face. "What?"
Your clueless attitude only further annoyed her. "I wasn't born yesterday; obviously you like her. She's my sister, asshole, that's so gross."
She thought you liked Sam. But why? Sure, you noticed how she was tall, beautiful, had a strong jawline, and her arms—wait, where was this going? Right, you were not romantically attracted to her.
"I don't like your sister like that," you told her but she refused to look at you. It seemed she found the pages of her textbook far more interesting.
"Can we just start? You were the one who wanted to get this over with."
"Whatever."
You two argued the entire time over ridiculous things while chucking notes at each other as you both would do during class. Tara grew bored after two hours, deciding to make it your problem. You were jotting something down when you heard the dramatic huff she let out.
"Yes, princess?" you asked, still writing.
"How are you not the least bit tired or bored?" she whined whilst leaning back on the couch.
You sighed before answering, "I'm always tired, but bored? It's history. I'm not bored."
"You always were such a history geek. What was that thing you always said? Learn by making history or something?"
You finally stopped writing, putting down your pencil, exhaling. "'Those that fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it,'" you quoted with a matter-of-fact tone. You finally looked back at Tara to see the smirk she wore.
She got just what she wanted.
Tara has always liked seeing you worked up, but specifically when it came to things you were passionate about. There were times she would even purposely miss quote a line from your favorite show or write with horrible grammar just to get a reaction from you.
You would scrunch your eyebrows and get all grumpy, you even wore a subtle frown she always made sure to look out for; you mainly reacted this way because you knew she solely did these things to tick you off. You wore the same expression now as you did then, this thought made Tara smile.
"I can tell you're enjoying this," you state as you turn back to your writing.
"Oh, very much." As you were turned away from the girl, focusing on whatever is you were writing, Tara stared at your side profile. She looked at the way your eyebrows were still slightly scrunched as you clenched your jaw in concentration.
"You're not gonna get much done if all you do is stare at me," you said without looking to meet her gaze.
This caught Tara off guard, causing her to falter a bit as she blinked at you. "Well—well, your face is dumb, and—and I'm going to the kitchen," she stammered while lifting herself from her seat, nearly tripping over her foot as she did so. "Oh! And I'm not getting you anything," she made sure to add before you could say anything.
As she walked away, you called out to her. "That'll show me!"
—
It was now 10:30 p.m, you and Tara were almost done with the project. For once, you two agreed on something, and decided to finish it up another time and call it a night.
You let out a tired sight, closing up your books before putting them in your bag. Sam walked into the living room, noticing you packing, when a thought occurred.
"I just ordered a pizza, and I was wondering if you would like to stay for dinner, Y/N," she said, catching both you and Tara by surprise.
The unopened bottle of water that has been sitting near you for hours was quickly noted by Sam.
"She's goo—" Tara began, but you cut her off.
"—Sure. If it's not a bother to you."
Oh, this was going to piss Tara off so much.
"Not at all," Sam answered, ignoring Tara mumbling from her seat.
"Thank you," you said with a small, but polite, smile.
As soon as Sam walked away, you were hit with a pillow. "Um, ouch?" you complained with sass.
"Cry my a fucking river—you're just staying to piss me off!" she accused whilst glaring at you.
"Self-absorbed much?" you patronized, feigning an incredulous look.
You two stared at each other, narrowing your eyes at one another. She leaned in before saying, "You are insufferable."
You let a couple seconds pass before leaning in yourself. Your faces were now just a few inches away as you said, "And you're infuriating."
Then the doorbell rings, Tara shoves you back before running to answer it. Sam came out of her room just as Tara came back in with the box of pizza along with a plastic bag. You timidly followed behind them, arms at your side as you walked, before you sat down.
After five minutes of silence, Sam attempts to make conversation. "So, Y/N," she began.
You softly hummed, looking up from your hardly touched slice.
"How's college going?" she inquired.
"It's... going," you said before awkwardly clearing your throat. "Yeah." You continued to pick at your slice's crust.
She nodded, accepting your answer, before continuing. "You and Tara have history together, right?"
"Unfortunately," Tara said before you could.
"She's a peach," you snarked while giving the younger Carpenter a wry smile.
Things quickly grew silent again. It was awkward... at least it was for Sam. You and Tara sending each other glares from across the table certainly wasn't easing the tension. To be honest, Sam didn't know how to cope. She knew you and Tara hated each other for reasons she still didn't know, but she also knew you weren't a terrible person who has been through... a lot. If you truly did something inhumanly horrible to Tara, her little sister wouldn't keep you in her life. So, Sam knew she had to be the bigger person by being at least decent to you.
Your eyes fell to your watch before you spoke. "I should get going, it's late," you said while getting up from your chair, putting down your napkin as you did so. "Thank you so much for dinner, Sam."
"Of course," she replied and gave you a courtesy smile
Tara turned to scold Sam the moment you left their apartment. "What the hell, Sam?!" she whined.
Sam pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, as she sighed. "Tara—"
"—You seriously just welcomed the most insufferable person ever to dinner!" she huffed with a pout on her face
Sam rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "You're such a baby sometimes, Tar," Sam said before getting up to wrap up the leftovers.
As she made her trip to the kitchen, this left Tara alone, pouting to herself. "I'm not a baby..." she mumbled to herself, both arms and legs crossed as she slumped in her chair.
"She's just an ass."
—
"Where are you going?" your roommate asked as she watched you search for your keys.
"Out."
Anika rolled her eyes at your curt response. "Obviously. But where? It's a Saturday; you should be taking advantage of that, and try to get some sleep," she told you.
"I'm fine. I had some coffee," you found your keys on the kitchen counter and grabbed them, "Henry and I are just gonna hang out. You can come, if you want. You know Henry doesn't mind."
"No, it's okay, I'm good. I have plans tonight," she said. She knew there was no making you budge, no matter what she said. "But if anything happens, call, okay?"
"Mhm, 'course," you dismissively answered as you walked out the door.
It was meant to be a chill night with Henry, one that consisted of video games, food and drinks, at least according to Henry. When you walked in, his apartment was packed with bodies. The music was booming, you would be shocked if an eardrum didn't burst, and everyone was either knocking into someone or something.
Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Nope!
With one last shake of your head, you turned around, more than ready to leave, but a pair of hands gently turned you around. You now faced Henry, who could tell you were not at all pleased right now.
"Just hear me out!" he shouted over the booming music.
"How can I with this music blasting?!" You couldn't even hear yourself think. Ugh, you just wanted to rip your ears off and curl up in a corner. "What happened to it just being us?!"
"Jason's apartment flooded, I had to take over!" he defended. He saw you were still wearing a pissed off expression. "I'm sorry! This was a last minute thing—but I'll make it up to you! Promise!"
Henry managed to convince you to stay by bribing you with Super Smash Bros and a quiet room for you to play it in. That's how you ended up in his room, away from everyone else, as you played on his Nintendo.
You were in the middle of handing Link his ass when the door abruptly opened. You glanced up from your screen and saw Tara flipping someone off before turning to you. "Don't," was all she said as she shut the door; she then collapsed on the bed, not far away from your feet.
"Wasn't gonna," you said while looking back at the Nintendo.
"Just did," she said in a muffled tone; she was laying face down.
"Long night already, princess?" you continued, ignoring her request.
She sat and held herself up by her arms. "Why do you care enough to ask?" She narrowed her eyes at you but you just gave her a small shrug before speaking again.
"I don't... Curious is all."
She crawled over to sit beside you, her back now leaned against the bed's headboard. When she started to toy with her fingers, your eyes fell to her hands for a moment; the scar on her left hand didn't go unnoticed by you.
"What?" she asked with agitation.
"Nothing," you mumbled, fiddling with the buttons on the Nintendo in a lame attempt to hide your suddenly bashful demeanor.
Tara looked to the side, her face scrunching slightly, as if scolding her herself. "Um... Sam told me about what day's coming up," she cautiously began.
Her words made you freeze, your fingers stilling. If there was anyone who wouldn't bring it up, you thought it would at least be her, that maybe your feud with the Carpenter would come in handy just this once.
"If you, like, need anything or whatever, you can talk to me about it. I know not a lot of people have experienced what we have," she said in an uncharacteristically sympathetic voice.
You couldn't look at her, staring down at the device in your lap. You hated it when people tried to comfort you, when people pitied you in any way, shape or form. You despised feeling like a victim.
"Can you stop?"
Your question made Tara confused as she furrowed her eyebrows. "Stop what?"
"Stop being so—nice to me. It's weird, and unnatural. I don't know how to feel," you confessed.
"Would you prefer me to verbally harass you? 'Cause I'll gladly do so," she said with seriousness in her voice. Here she was, trying to be remotely nice to you, and you of course had to be you.
"There's my girl," you teasingly said. You reached up and pinched her cheek, but she swatted your hand away with a chuckle.
"You're an idiot," she said.
"Seriously though, stop with all the cheesiness," you continued; Tara scoffed at your insistence.
"It's not my fault emotions make you uncomfortable," she responded without hesitation.
Now it was your turn to scoff. "That's... not entirely true," you said while slightly shaking your head.
Tara realized this was the most she was going to get out of you when it came to addressing anything she said before. She wasn't going to get anything direct from you, not even a simple 'okay,' and that was fine. Sam told her she should try to talk to you about it, and she did try.
A pillow flew to your face. "Oh, real mature. Second time in a row," you remarked before throwing the pillow back to her. "Every time your guard is down while we're near a pillow? I'll remember this, Carpenter. I'll remember this."
"I'm shaking in boots," she joked while shaking her hands.
"You'll see," you said as you rose from the bed.
Tara raised her eyebrows. "Where are you going?" she asked.
"Miss me already?" you teased while smirking.
She rolled eyes, pretending to gag. "You couldn't leave this room soon enough."
You now stood at the door. "What would you do without me?"
"Celebrate."
"Would that be before or after the mourning period?"
She threw another pillow at you. "Get out!" she yelled; she tried to fight back her laughter. Geez, I'm... tipsy, Tara thought to herself.
"As you wish," you chuckled before leaving the room.
Tara was now alone with her thoughts; she let out a deep sigh as she laid on the bed. "Idiot..." she murmured to herself. But something just felt... different this time, about her idiot. You were still an asshole, that she had to remind herself. Even if you were undeniably cute.
Oh.
She didn't know where the last thought came from, but she'll keep it to herself. It wouldn't be the first time she had a thought like that about you, but each time she reminded herself of all the things you both have done and said to one another. She still found you insufferable, that was the plain truth. But that doesn't mean she hasn't noticed you were rather objectively attractive—objectively of course.
There was just too much she hated about you; from your conceited attitude to how much of a control freak you could be, and she hated how you could charm your way out of most situations. It may have been unbearable, but it brought her satisfaction that you couldn't do that with her.
You were nothing but an intolerable asshole who has always gotten on her nerves. At least, that's what she kept repeating to herself as the last few minutes replayed in her head.
—
Monday quickly rolled by—annoyingly quick. When you arrived at class, you sat in your usual spot. You were surprised Tara made it before you but not at all surprised when you saw she was hungover. "Two nights in a row? You rebel," you teased her; she groaned and rubbed her temples.
"You're not helping," she complained, putting her head down with shut eyes.
"Wasn't trying to," you said before taking out your notes.
Your professor walked in just a moment later, a booming voice followed him. "Let's begin!" he exclaimed while letting out a loud clap with his hands.
The sudden loudness caused Tara to jolt with her hands flying to her ears. You laughed a little, earning you a kick to your ankle.
As class went on, you and Tara did your typical routine of shoving each other, making petty comments towards one another, and note passing. When class was over, you got up, closing your books, before making your way to meet Anika for lunch. You only made it a few feet from the classroom when you felt a light tug on the back of your shirt; you turned around and saw Tara looking up at you.
"Yes, princess?" you asked as you looked back at her. She looked pretty cute looking up at you with those big brown eyes of hers. Something you noticed over the years is that she had these puppy dog eyes without even trying. Even when she's trying to be serious, they can't help but stay.
"I'm free tomorrow; we can finish the project then," she told you; she was still looking up at you with those damn eyes of hers.
You nodded. "See you then."
"No flirting with my sister," she sternly said with an appointed look.
"No promises," you joked with a shrug.
She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you're so gross," she said before shoving past you and walking away.
Note to self, add 'flirting with Sam' on the list of things that piss off Tara.