SCREAM 4 ME

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Charlie sat with his remaining friends, a sombre expression etched on his face. Clayton, Wes, Chad, Mindy, Oliver, and Julian were gathered around the table, the air thick with tension as they discussed the latest Ghostface killings that had occurred just the night before.

"It's getting worse," Clayton muttered, his eyes darting nervously around the room. "I don't even feel safe walking home anymore."

Wes nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed with worry. "I know what you mean," he said. "It's like this town has turned into a war zone. We have to do something to protect ourselves."

Chad spoke up, his voice laced with anger. "But what can we do? The police don't seem to be making any headway in catching this guy. We're all just sitting ducks."

Mindy leaned forward, her eyes flashing with determination. "We can't just sit around waiting for something to happen to us," she said firmly. "We have to take action. We have to fight back."

Oliver nodded, a fire in his eyes. "She's right," he said. "We can't just let this guy keep getting away with murder. We have to band together and take him down."

Charlie sat hunched over, his eyes bloodshot and sunken, the lack of sleep taking its toll on him. Dark circles hung heavy beneath his eyes, his skin pale and drawn. He rubbed at his arm, wincing at the tender spot where he had been injured during his last encounter with Ghostface. Despite his exhaustion, Charlie couldn't bring himself to rest. The thought of closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep, even for a moment, filled him with a sense of dread. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the masked face of the killer, looming over him with a knife in hand. His mind raced with thoughts and fears, each one more vivid and terrifying than the last. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, that every shadow held the potential for danger. Charlie knew that he couldn't continue like this forever, that his lack of sleep was only making things worse. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to let his guard down, even for a moment. He knew that he had to stay alert, to be ready for whatever was to come.

Charlie thought about all these he had lost already.

He remembered their faces, their laughter, their quirks and personalities, and the hole that their absence had left in his life was almost unbearable. He couldn't help but wonder if there was something he could have done to save them, some way he could have protected them from the horrors that had taken them away.

The guilt and sadness weighed heavily on Charlie, each loss carving a deeper wound into his already aching heart. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was failing his friends, that he was letting them down in some way by being unable to stop the killer. But even as the pain threatened to overwhelm him, Charlie knew that he couldn't give up. He had to keep fighting, for the sake of his fallen friends and for the others who remained. He had to be strong, face his fears and does whatever it took to put an end to this nightmare once and for all.

Charlie was lost in thought when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps, pulling him back to reality. He turned to see Dewey Riley and his daughter Tatum approaching him, Tatum pushing her father's wheelchair.

Dewey looked tired but determined, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of trouble. Tatum, on the other hand, had a bright smile on her face, as if nothing could dampen her spirits.

"Hey, Charlie," Dewey said, his voice gruff but friendly. "How are you holding up?"

Charlie managed a weak smile, grateful for the distraction. "I'm... I'm okay," he replied, though he knew it was far from the truth.

Tatum beamed at him, her eyes alight with curiosity. "So, what's the plan?" she asked, bouncing slightly on her feet. "Are we gonna catch this guy or what?"