𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟

 The automatic doors of the University Hospital snapped shut behind you, sealing you outside of the warm building and forcing you to brace yourself against the cool morning air. The so-called police interrogation was shorter than expected and was more like a fifteen-minute questionnaire than anything.

They asked who you had been with, if you'd seen anything suspicious prior to the attack, and other similar boring questions. You didn't have it in you to tell them off in your tired state so instead, you decided to obediently answer to the best of your ability. The cops hadn't been much help to your plight the first time around, so you had very little hope that your answers were actually going toward any sort of active investigation.

After they left, one of your nurses came back in to unhook you from their machines before changing your bandages and wheeling you to the front desk where you filled out the rest of your paperwork. The board members of the Delta Lambda Zeta committee offered to pay your remaining hospital bill after insurance. You figured it was either a desperate reach for you to join their sorority or they wanted to give you an incentive to not press charges for being attacked on Delta property. Either way, you were up and walking just after eleven o'clock.

Not many reporters had gotten wind of your whereabouts and you took a deep breath upon seeing the courtyard relatively empty. It was the first time in a long time you could leave someplace without having to answer to someone.

"Excuse me!" A single voice called out, breaking your split-second of peace.

You spun around to see two figures approaching from down the sidewalk. One had a bulky camera resting on his shoulder and a tired look on his face. The reporter beside him, on the other hand, was smiling like she just won the lottery. 

 She must've paid big money for your location; probably tipped off a few security guards too. She brandished her microphone like a sword and if it weren't for the blotchy red box-dye, you would have taken her for a professional.

Her name was Gale Weathers. Before you moved to Windsor, even before the massacre, you knew her from the local Woodsboro morning news. She had gotten her big break covering Casey's murder, then the attack at your house soon after. All the while she made a point to harass you as you travelled to and from school, bombarding you with tasteless personal questions.

It was because of Gale Weathers that the Stab movie was put into production and it was probably because of Gale Weathers that some sick fuck was chasing you around campus with a superiority complex to match. God, you thought, studying the older woman before you. Being a raging bitch did wonders for her skin.

"Excuse me, (Y/N)!" She tried again with a blindingly fake smile. "Gale Weathers reporting for Channel 12. I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"We've met," you mumbled mostly to yourself, giving her a once-over before quickening your pace in the opposite direction. She must've known the impact she had on you and the outcome of your life thus far. And if she didn't, you envied her ignorance. "I don't have time for questions right now."

Gale licked her ruby red lips, her smile faltering with a nervous laugh before quickly composing herself. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she struggled to keep up with you. You'd already given her so much attention and she wasn't about to let you go now.

"Do you think it was safe to go to that party with a killer on the loose? Considering your past, I mean."

Your eyes narrowed and you paused your steps, no longer rushing toward the exit. The bandage on your cheek was itching again but you refused to give her the perfect photo opportunity by looking even slightly pained. "Are you suggesting that it's my fault I was attacked?"