Let the Light in - T.C x FEM!R

Alamort |2|

Warning(s): Swearing, mentions of death, grief, and underage drinking

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After a long day of work and school, you were absolutely exhausted. You needed to change before you passed out on the floor. Once you were clad in your pajamas, you collapsed onto your bed, practically melting at the feeling of your pillow against your face. You fell asleep moments later, but it was nothing to enjoy.

Your right leg bounced as you impatiently stared at your phone. You were biting your nails to the bone when your younger brother let out an aggravated huff. "Staring at your phone isn't doing anything. You're just making the wait feel longer," he told you as he took the seat beside you.

You anxiously rubbed your hand up and down your thigh. "He said he'd call as soon as he took care of everything. That was fuckin' forever ago!" you snapped, getting up from where you sat. You knew what this possibly meant, but couldn't bear to say it.

"Fighting a serial killer isn't a five minute type of thing. I'm sure he's fine," you brother tried to reassure you, but you were already pacing back and forth as terrible things flooded your mind.

Just earlier, Dewey called you and explained he was headed to the hospital to handle a Ghostface issue. He also said that if he got back, the first thing he would do is call you. If? Surely he knew you were smart enough to detect that 'if' he snuck in. The whole way over to the hospital, he talked to you and your little brother over the phone. The whole conversation gave a gnawing feeling in your stomach. It sounded like he was saying his last goodbyes. You didn't even have a chance to reply when he told you, "I love you, kid," before he hung up the phone.

You were planning on going to the hospital yourself. No way was that going to be the last words Dewey would tell you, not if you could do anything about it. Especially not after the way you left things. But your brother refused, blocking the door off when you got up to leave. He didn't want you going down the same path family have gone down in the past.

You found out an hour later. You froze for a good minute when you heard the first responder speak. A part of you knew what was in store when you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket. After snapping out of it, you looked at your brother—there was no time for wallowing. You grabbed him and rushed down to the hospital. You thought you were numb before, but you had no idea what numbness was until you saw Dewey's lifeless, blood stained, body being covered by a black tarp.

I should've been there... I should've been there...

From the corner of your eye, you saw how your brother's eyes never pulled from the tarp that covered Dewey before he broke out into sobs. You immediately wrapped an arm around him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

As numbness enveloped you, you thought back to just an hour ago; Dewey was being gutted in cold blood while you were safe and sound in his trailer.

You should have been there.

You jolted awake, your head was throbbing, and you were drenched in sweat. You quickly sat up, your breathing rapid, while you rubbed your eyes. Your eyes then frantically looked around your dark surroundings; you were no longer in Woodsboro. You were in New York, inside your apartment, sitting on your bed.

Damnit.

You have been having the same dream—well, nightmare, for the last few weeks. It was the same one you had even months after Dewey passed, but they weren't as consistent come June. At least, that's what you thought. Your mind was refusing to let you forget that wretched day, the day you just sat around as the man you looked up to as a father was taken from you.