Tear You Apart || Billy Loomis & Stu Macher ✓

𝟷𝟼| 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

An agonizing chill ricocheted down your spine and back at the menacing voice. It was enough to wipe the smile clean off your face.

"I'm sorry," you kept your voice leveled, pretending as if everything was fine. You weren't about to show your fear to the killer. "I think you have the wrong number."

"Do I now?" The caller chuckled. "This is the Orth Residency, is it not?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, internally scolding yourself as he mimicked your voice. This psychopath was never going to stop, not until you were dead. After releasing a quiet sigh, you opened your eyes again.

"Okay then, would you like to enlighten me on what it is that you want now?" You questioned boldly, your insolent tone showcasing exasperation. "Or are we still playing this chase-game?"

"𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮."

You scoffed at his response, ignoring the uneasiness that crept over you. Your grip on the phone tightened as you swallowed back the immediate urge to freak-out.

"You want me?" You repeated, voice tight as a wire. "Then show your fucking face, you coward." You spat before slamming the phone down.

Your first instinct was to rush to the front door, making sure every single lock was done before peering out the top window. This killer was growing bolder by the day, scheming in broad daylight. The police-mandated curfew was fucking pointless.

When you didn't see anyone lurking outside, you ran back to the phone and quickly dialed Tatum's number. The second the line went through, you skipped past the 'hellos' and got straight to the point.

"Tatum, get Dewey!" You demanded.

"What—Y/n? What's going on?" She questioned, worry wringing her voice.

"The crazy fuck called again!" You exclaimed, pacing down the hallway to check the backdoor. "I know he's here somewhere. Probably fucking watching me."

"Oh my God!" Tatum gasped. "We need to go now."

You heard her speaking to someone—probably Sidney or Dewey—as you reached the dining room. You approached the glass door set in the wall, locking the top latch as you peered into your fenced-in backyard. You stared at the old, metallic swing-set, and noticed one of the swings swaying slightly.

"Where are you at right now?" Tatum asked, pulling your focus.

"Inside," You answered, backing away from the glass. "I've locked all the doors."

"Good. Just stay where you are—" She paused after someone said something to her. "Or maybe hide. That might be better."

Your body stilled as a low creak came from the floorboard behind you. You were standing beside the round archway that led into the hallway.

Quickly spinning around, your eyes widened as a masked figure suddenly emerged from the utility closet, raising his knife in the air in an attempt to attack.

"Send Dewey! Send the police!" You shouted into the phone before throwing it at the killer.

He let out a groan as the phone struck his stomach. You took the chance to skirt around him, bolting for the front door. You tried pulling it open only to realize you locked every damn lock. Your hand shook as you frantically tried undoing them, however, the killer was quick to recover.

Your eyes widened when you looked back to see him charging at you. You gasped as he swung his knife at you. Fortunately, you ducked out of the way. The blade plunged into the wall above you instead.