DAMSEL IN DISTRESS [SCREAM 1996]

7. Misery

Cassandra's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The idea of sitting through classes, pretending everything was normal, was unbearable. She needed to be somewhere that made sense, somewhere that connected her to Casey.

She went to the football field and leaned against the fence- the same spot Casey usually stood to watch the cheerleaders and football team practice. She views the lot from Casey's perspective, feeling as though Casey would walk up to her at any moment now.

When that got to be too much, she left school entirely.

The walk to the Becker house felt surreal. The quiet suburban streets, usually comforting, now seemed eerie and empty. She felt the weight of Casey next to her- but more specifically the weight of Casey not being there. As she approached the house, memories flooded back. Sleepovers, laughter, plans for the future. All of it shattered in one horrifying night.

The yellow crime scene tape flapped in the wind, a stark reminder of the nightmare that unfolded here. Cassandra hesitated at the edge of the lawn, her heart pounding. She took a deep breath and crossed the threshold, stepping into what was once a safe haven.

She continues to the backyard, where Steve's blood still stained the patio. The sight made her knees weak.

The chair was still in place as well- the spot Steve was gutted. She crouches beside of it and looks to the broken windows of the back door. She pictures Casey inside- forced to watch as Steve was tied here and killed.

The blood fumes had gone down a lot and it was mostly dry. Cassandra pushes herself to her feet and looks around the backyard.

Where would the killer have hidden? Where could he have gotten away?

The back door had been shattered when the killer threw a chair into the glass. Someone, more than likely Mr. Becker, had put a tarp over the door to combat the fall weather.

She went inside with her spare key. The house was eerily silent. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of cleaning chemicals, but it couldn't completely mask the lingering sense of death.

She moved slowly, her eyes scanning the living room. There were faint stains on the carpet, hastily scrubbed but still visible. Her stomach churned, and she had to force herself to keep moving. Every step felt like a betrayal to Casey, as if she was intruding on her friend's final moments.

In the kitchen, broken glass and upturned furniture told a story of a desperate struggle. Cassandra's breath hitched as she imagined Casey's fear and pain. Tears welled up, but she blinked them back, determined to stay strong.

She leans on the kitchen island, trying to catch her breath and not break down crying.

"Casey?"

The soft voice makes her jump. She turns to see Mrs. Becker standing in the hallway, her face drawn and eyes red from crying. The sight of Casey's mother broke Cassandra's heart all over again.

"Mrs. Becker," Cassandra whispers, not knowing what else to say.

"Cassandra," Mrs. Becker fixes her mistake.

Mrs. Becker steps forward, her arms opening slightly. Cassandra closes the distance and embraces her, feeling the older woman's frail body shaking with sobs.

"I'm so sorry," Cassandra said, her own tears spilling over. "I should have been here. I should have done something."

Mrs. Becker pulls back, holding Cassandra's face in her hands. "No, sweetheart. You couldn't have known. None of us could have known."

Cassandra nods, but the guilt gnawed at her being. She felt responsible, even though she knew it was irrational. "I miss her so much."

"We all do," Mrs. Becker said, her voice trembling. "She was such a bright light in all our lives."