REALISTIC FICTION | s.k

PART I

REALISTIC FICTION, BY EMPLOYEEOFSHADYSIDE.

warnings for strong language and 1994, 1978 + 1666 spoilers.

fair warning, none of my chapters are beta read, so i apologize for any grammatical errors or words that don't match the stories details.

"OH, SHIT, SHIT, [NAME] IS BLEEDING OUT!"

"FUCK! No!" You squeeze your eyes shut in a knowing grimace. The tv plays off noises of a sickening impact.

You've rewatched this movie all too many times to count. Alongside its two others in pair, though the first remains a personal favourite.

Fearstreet: 1994 keeps its place seated firmly in your favoured movies list, and the only thing keeping you from liking the others with the same love is two characters.

Two simple, funny, characters who captured your heart no less that a few weeks ago.

Then, they died.

Every time you watch, it happens again and again. You don't know why you expect anything different to happen. It's just a movie.

Deena is performing CPR on Sam when you click the screen off into black.

You're sporting a particularly annoying headache that isn't going away, so you pop a tylenol and a melatonin before dropping onto your bed and into sleep.

Your conscious is fading, succumbing to the familiar fatigue that plagues you, before you suddenly jolt awake.

Gas. You smell gas, and your body, jesus, it's in a blinding pain, particularly in your side, and is that — is that blood?

Your hands find themselves swiping the slick liquid on your head, and your eyes finally open.

Blood covers your fingers, as well as dripping thick rivulets down your abdomen. You're in a car, wrecked, while just a little ahead is another car, totalled.

This isn't your bed. This isn't your room. What the hell?

"Fuck, fuck," You mutter, as the car is leaking further gas, and your weight doesn't seem to be supported on it's unstable tilt.

You slowly crawl out of the car from the drivers window, rolling it down with whatever power the car had left.

After you had exited the car onto the grass in the woods, it flipped completely over on it's back with a loud crush.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, watching a girl in a red cheerleader costume struggle to exit the car.

With some pain, you got yourself up to your weak legs, trekking over to their crash sight.

"Are — are you okay?" You breathed out heavily, hand pushing further on your slit abdomen. You must've cut yourself against the seatbelt. It seemed to be broken.

You leaned down to her level on the floor, falling onto the grass with little cohesion of what your body was willing to do or support.

"I'm so sorry, [Name]." She muttered out, hands reaching to her nose, which had began to bleed a significant amount of blood. It dripped to the grass.