When The Truth Comes Out

Chapter 7

September 27th, 1995; Woodsboro High

Tatum and I were sitting at the fountain alone for the first few minutes of lunch. The sounds of the water overflowing from the spout and splashing to the shallow water below was soothing. As I soaked up the UV rays, I thought of last night.

Then I thought I'd Sidney.

"Where's Sidney?" I asked Tatum, noticing the girl's absence.

"You haven't heard?" She seemed shocked.

"Heard what?" I was worried Billy and I had been caught for a moment, but the news she gave me made my heart sink further.

"Her mother was murdered last night. Completely gutted. Sid saw Cotton Weary leaving the house when she got home, and that's when she found her." She explained.

Holy shit.

It made me think back to that night that I watched Billy cry. What I was thinking had came true, or close to it. Had Cotton Weary been framed, or was it really him?

Either way, the bitch was dead.

I felt bad for Sidney though. I can't even begin to imagine what it'd be like to find a parent in that state. But now Billy and her had something to bond over; being motherless.

"Is Billy with her now?" I spoke up after a few minutes of silence.

"I think so, yeah." I watched as she tossed a grape into her mouth, then went back to staring at the fountain.

Stu and Randy then appeared, clearly conversing about the incident that went down. Randy was giving his horror-movie-freak opinions as always, while Stu shut them down.

"I really don't think he did it, man. Have you ever talked to Cotton Weary? I mean, the man comes in and rents romantic comedies for fuck's sake." Randy rolled his eyes as he sat down beside me.

"They said he was drunk. Drunk people can lose their shit easily if pushed hard enough." Stu retorted, wrapping his arm around Tatum.

"Depends on the person. Drunk Stu gets either goofier than usual or super lovey. Even when someone pushes your buttons, you don't go off. So who knows. Maybe he's an angry drunk, maybe he was framed." I butted in. He seemed to tense up, but I just chalked that up to nervousness about a killer possibly on the loose.

"If he was framed, that means someone is still out there." Tatum became visibly uncomfortable as she thought aloud.

"Don't worry, babe. I'll protect you." Stu grinned widely, then kissed her.

"Get a room." I rolled my eyes at the couple. I knew exactly what my brother was thinking, but also knew he wouldn't say a word, because that would ruin the plan.

The plan.

I wondered if Billy was actually comforting her, or just pretending. I wondered if he was happy about the bitch dying. I could almost guarantee he was.

I could feel jealousy boiling within me as I thought of him comforting precious, innocent Sidney. I had enjoyed her company before her and Billy got together, now I had to mask my secret hatred for her.

I couldn't be mad at her for what her mother had done. It wasn't her fault, she didn't even know about her mom being a complete whore. But Billy still resented her, and wanted to toy with her emotions. It seemed cruel to me, but I wasn't one to judge.

Not with the thoughts I had that became a reality.

Soon the bell rang, signalling that lunch was over. I quickly left the group, not really being in the mood to talk to people. Which made me also wonder where Tiff had been. I hadn't seen her at all today.

It made me worry; what if the killer went after her as well? But why?

I then said fuck school and ran my ass back home to call the girl. I picked up the phone and dialed her number, internally praying that she was okay.

"Hello?"

"Tiff! Oh my god, where the hell are you?"

"Sick as fuck. Doctor thinks I have bronchitis."

"You had me worried after what happened last night."

"Don't worry, Cotton Weary didn't gut me too."

"Alright, I'm gonna let you rest. Drink some tea or some shit."

"Will do. Later, girl. "

"Bye."

I hung up the phone and sighed in relief. My best friend wasn't dead, just sick.

Going back to school this late sounded stupid as hell, so I decided to take a nap instead. As I stripped out of my outfit, last night continued to replay in my head, as well as what must be going on right now.

Did he mean what he said? Was he really just toying with her? Or did he fuck me because she won't give it up that easily?

Rage quickly took over, and I started destroying my room.

Stu walked in after getting home, and notices the state of not only my room, but me as well.

The lamp that typically sat on my bedside table was now in the corner, bulb shattered on the floor. The mirror I had always used to pick out my outfits was completely shattered. My dresser was toppled over, leaving picture frames and small trinkets broken on the floor.

But I looked worse.

My hands were bruised and bloody from shattering the mirror. My feet were bleeding from stepping on glass. Blood from my hands was mixed with the dried tears I tried to wipe away. I looked like hell.

"Y/N?" Stu slowly approached me, trying to avoid the pieces of shattered glass. "C'mon, let's get to to the hospital, you clearly need stitches."

I didn't speak. I just let him pick me up and carry me to the car. He knew deep down what was wrong, but didn't say anything. He knew not to push me when I was like this.

Billy and I had that in common.

When we pulled up to the hospital, he parked the car, then carried me into the emergency room. There were still glass shards in my bleeding feet, so I was unable to walk.

"Name?" The receptionist asked, so she could check me in.

"Y/N Macher. Birthdate is October 31st, 1980. I think she needs stitches in her hands and feet. Her feet still have glass in them." Stu answered for me. I leaned into him as he spoke, then let him carry me back to the room we were assigned to.

I didn't speak as the nurses and doctors came in; Stu spoke for me. I winced in pain as they cleaned the cuts and gave me a shot of anesthetic to numb the areas before stitching them up. But that was the only reaction from me.

Once I was discharged, we drove back home in silence. I only needed stitches in my hands and the bottom of my right foot, so I was given crutches to walk on until it fully healed.

"I'll get the spare bedroom down here ready for you." My brother said as we walked in the door. I only nodded in response. As he walked off, I heard the door open and shut.

"Y/N?" Billy's concerned voice rang out. I wanted to be mad at him. I wanted to beat him with my crutches until he was black and blue. But I loved him too much. "What happened?"

"Got angry again." I mumbled. It wasn't the first time I've broken shit, but it was the first time I injured myself in the process.

"What do you need from upstairs? I'll go grab it." He sighed as he hugged me.

"Pajamas and clothes for tomorrow." I replied as I moved towards the couch. He quickly ran up the stairs, and I heard him gasp at the mess that was my room. He must be wondering what set me off.

To be honest, I wasn't even sure. I've been jealous before, but it was never this intense.