"I Wanna Be Seen." / A fanmade Scream story /

• Chapter 1 •-• Prologue •

. . .1997. . . Woodsboro California. . .

2:26am. . .

A teenage boy sat on his couch, drowsily staring at the tv in front of him. The luminescent light being the only thing that kept him at bay. The volume was fairly loud, but it didn't seem to phase the pubescent boy. He slumps down in his father's old  lay-z boy chair, slowly bringing the tip of a soda bottle to his lips. He took a large swig of the sugary substance, and placed it back down on the dirtied side table. His mother was gone this very night, hell knows where. His mom didn't really tell him when she left, really just leaving a note on the fridge that said— 'Had to go- love you! Food in the fridge.-love, mom'. The same bullshit really, Ryan knew that she was just sneaking off to go drink again. It had grown to that point where you really just didn't care. He yawned lightly, rubbing a hand over his face, slightly covering the bright tv light. Damn. I guess it was really late. Maybe he should just try and get some sleep. Hell, it was a Sunday night and he had school tomorrow.

He blinked away the drowsiness from his eyes, grabbing the tv remote. He fiddled with it for a moment, clicking the television off with a buzz. The room went dark. He let his eyes adjust to the newfound darkness that engulfed him, before projecting himself off of the recliner. He took the half drunken soda bottle back off of the side table, huffing.
With slight hesitation of bumping into anything, he slowly made his way to the kitchen, so he could dump out his soda. He knew he had successfully made it inside, when he felt the cold touch of the newly installed kitchen tile. He felt around for the light switch for a moment, before switching it on with his pointer finger. The sudden light made him squint his eyes, as he poured the remained of his soda down the sink drain.  He hummed to himself, adjusting his t-shirt that was simply just a nearby sports team. He put the now empty glass on the counter, making a slight clink. As if he was making a cheers with no one. 

RING RING RING.

Ryan whipped around, staring at his family phone. It was at the other side of the kitchen, on a small mount. Who the hell would be calling this late? He'd wonder.
He knew, if his mom where are home with him right now, she would tell him to answer no matter what the number was. 'Just in case' she always told him. He rolled his eyes,, leaning over to the counter where the phone was sat. Squinting again, he read the number. Surely, he didn't recognize it at all. He thought about his mother again, and sighed.

RING. . .

He picked up the phone in a quick swoop, pressing the button. "Hello? Williams household." He cleared his throat, talking into the receiver.

"Hello."
A very gruff, scratchy voice ring through the receiver.

"Who is this?"

"..Well. You don't know me, but I know you."

Ryan snorted, putting a hand over his mouth for a moment to suppress it. "Cmon, cut it out. Who are you?"

"That isn't important."

"Uh. Yes it is. How can I make a proper conversation with you if I don't know your name?" Ryan chuckled, turning around as he pressed his back against the counter, using his free hand to keep balance.

"You don't need to know my name. We can make conversation somehow."
The unsettling voice responded, almost instantly. It was,, almost abnormal.

"I guess your right. Why are you calling anyway? I don't recognize your voice. So, you can't be Thomas." Ryan replied, seeming to slightly ramble. He was tired, so he really didn't care that he was talking to this seemingly unknown caller. If it was a usual day, Ryan would of just probably laughed and hung up on the guy. But no.

"I wanted to ask you a question, Ryan."
The unsettling voice voice spoke to Ryan by name. How would he know?

Ryan paused, his expression dropping. How did this stranger know him? His breath hitched, pulling the phone down from his ear. Without him replying, the voice seemed to keep talking.

"What's your favorite scary movie..?"
What kind of joke was this? Scare the shit out of him, and then ask him such a simple, dumbass question?

"..How do you know my name-?"
Ryan choked out, not replying to the other question.

"Do I need to repeat myself, or do I need to come in there."

The voice shouted. This sentence alone made Ryan's skin crawl. With that, he hung up the phone. Part of him was paranoid, sure. But the other part of him? Thought it was just one of his friends playing an elaborate prank on him. He took another shaky breath,, before pausing. The sliding doors right near the kitchen, was now wide open. He had only looked away for a moment— did, someone get in? Or, was it his mom that finally got home?

"...Mom-?" His voice shook,, as he called out for who he thought was his mother. He turned the corner hesitantly,, looking around at the living room he was sitting in earlier. Nothing. He shrugged his shoulders a bit, pivoting back around. He hesitantly walked to the sliding doors, sliding them shut slowly,, and locking them with a click. He swore the screen door was locked, he always kept the doors locked when home alone. It was only capable of being locked from the inside, so how was it even possible? He shook his head, biting his bottom lip nervously. This alone was making him even more anxious. With the overwhelming presence that someone had got in. Or,, even the stranger on the phone. It felt like another long moment of him anxiously staring out the glass door, before something jerked him to his senses.

RING. . .RING. . .RING

The mere sound of the ringing phone caused him to flinch. He ran back up to it, recognizing the number as the same one from moments beforehand. He scowled, pressing the accept call button. "Stop fucking call-"

"Behind you."

"..What-?"

. . . .