My name is Elliott Willows, and I've lived in Woodsboro, California my whole life. My parents named me Elliott because they thought I was going to be a boy, but I go by Ellie now.
My two best friends are Billy Loomis and Stuart (Stu) Macher, and I h...
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"My dad's just pulling into the driveway now, I better go." I say into the handheld phone. "Alright, try and stay out of his way please." My best friend, Billy's, concerned voice came from the other end of the phone. I hang up the phone, quickly placing it on the side table on the landing. As I hear my dad fumbling to open the front door, I tiptoe into my bedroom and shut the door and lock it as quietly as possible.
"Elliott!" I hear my dad yell from downstairs, and I quickly and quietly climb underneath my bed to hide. "Where the fuck are you?" I could tell he was in a foul mood, and I was hoping that he would just go into the kitchen, rather than walk up the stairs to my room.
Creak.
Shit! I thought to myself, as I heard him walking up the steps. He was clearly drunk, as I could here him stumbling a little on the stairs, and cursing with each thud.
I heard him try to open the door, and then curse again when he realised it was locked.
"Ellie, come on. I just want to talk." He said, in a sickeningly, pretend, sweet voice. I stayed hidden. Then... "Let me in you little bitch! Or I'll have to kick this door down again!" I jumped slightly at him shouting, frozen under my bed still. It went quiet for a minute, and I thought he had walked away, but I still refused to move. I'd stay here all night, if I had to. I have before. Then, suddenly, I hear loud thuds pounding on my bedroom door, and I knew he wasn't going to give up. I started to shake with fear, as he was kicking through my door.
The banging stopped for a second, before I heard the click of the lock. The door swings open slowly, and I see my dads big, black combat boots walk in. I'm completely still, trying desperately not to make a sound, even holding my breath. I watch his feet walk around my room.
He opens the door to my built-in cupboard. He slams it shut.
He opens the doors to my wardrobe. He slams it shut.
He walks over to my window, which is right at the end of my bed.
I can see him pause for a second, before his feet turn to face the bed.
I hear him pull back my covers, and then I hear him start to chuckle, evilly.
As I start to see him get down on his knees to look under my bed, I slide myself to the side of my bed to get closer to my bedroom door. When both of his knees are on the floor and he's bending his head down, I quickly slide the rest of the way out and get up. I run for the shattered door and fling it open. I can hear my dad get up and come after me as I'm leaving. Just as I reach the top of the stairs, so does my dad. He grabs my wrist roughly, and sucker punches me right in the mouth, causing my head to fling back as he still has a firm grip on my wrist. I taste the all too familiar iron flavour of my blood. Feeling light headed and woozy, I struggle to escape his hold, twisting and turning, as his other hand smacks onto my neck and he starts to strangle me. I give a swift kick to his stomach, causing him to fall backwards down the stairs. Not letting go of my wrist, he takes me down with him. When we reach the bottom of the staircase I hear a very distinctive snap, just as I smack the back of my head on the ground, and everything goes black.
When I open my eyes again, it's pitch black outside and I feel a warm liquid coating the back of my head and my back. I feel even more woozy than before when he hit me, as I slowly move my head to the side, wincing in pain. My eyes go wide as I see my dad lying next to me. I quickly jolt up and crawl backwards into the hallway wall, causing my head to start pounding, and my vision going dark with the pain.
When I'm able to focus again, I see that the warm liquid was blood, and it looked like it was coming from my dad. His neck was distorted, and it suddenly hit me that his neck was broken. I gasp silently, my hand covering my mouth. Burning, hot tears start to roll down my cheeks.
I look around the house, not knowing what to do, when I see the landline on the table next to me. I slowly crawl towards it, grabbing the entire thing whilst still sitting on the floor. I dial the first number that comes into my head.
"Hello?" I hear the warm voice come from the end of the phone, and that's when I start to sob. "Billy - Help." I managed to get out, in between sobs, staring at the spot where my dead father lays. "Shit, El! What happened? What has he done?" I sob louder and start hyperventilating, unable to answer. "I'm coming straight over." He quickly says, and hangs up the phone.
I drop the phone next to me, sobbing silently on the floor, rocking back and forth, and not taking my eyes off of my dad. Part of me was scared that he would wake up and then he definitely would kill me this time.
~ • ~
After what feels like hours, despite it only being about 20 minutes, Billy bursts through the front door, not bothering to knock. He stops in his tracks when sees my father lying motionless on the ground, his eyes widening. He turns to me and runs over, taking me in his arms. I start to sob again, shaking as I do so.
"El, what happened?" He asks, as he strokes my blood stained hair. "I-I killed him Billy. I d-didn't mean to, I swear." I said, shaking my head, tears streaming down my cheeks. "Shhh. It's okay, El. He had it coming." He said, soothingly. I lift my head to look him in the eyes. His chocolate brown eyes looked down at me, sympathetically.
"Am I gonna go to jail?" He paused. "No. It was self-defence, wasn't it?" He said, half asking me, half telling me. I nodded, my eyes not leaving his. He wiped tears away from my cheeks with his thumbs, as he held my face in his hands. He pressed his warm, soft lips to my forehead and pulled me into his chest.
