SCREAM - THE GHOST OF LONDON

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Charlie sat outside the cabin under the shelter, the harsh rain drumming against the roof above him. He had a thin blanket wrapped around his torso, keeping his knees curled up against his chest as he stared into the darkness. Beside him, his phone lay face down and on silent. A tear rolled down his cheek as he thought about everything that had happened, and how Kit would be arriving soon. He brushed the tear away, trying to hold it together. Suddenly, his phone rang, startling him. He quickly grabbed it and answered.

"Hello?"

"You're a survivor, aren't you, Charlie?" Ghostface's snarling voice came through the line. Charlie stood up, heart pounding, and looked around before stepping back into the house. "That's what you know how to do. Survive," the voice taunted.

"Leave me alone!" Charlie yelled, his voice trembling with fear and anger. The Detectives hurried over to him, their expressions concerned.

Ghostface chuckled menacingly. "What good is it being a survivor when everyone you love ends up dead?"

"Don't!" Charlie pleaded, his voice breaking.

"You can't save everyone. Maybe I'll kill your little boyfriend next," the killer said, his voice dripping with malice. "Don't think I won't, Charlie. But if you come out of your little hiding spot, I won't touch them. I won't even go near them. What do you say?"

"Fuck you!" Charlie barked, his anger boiling over.

"Is that the answer you're going for, Charlie?" Ghostface chuckled. "I'd be careful if I were you. You need to pay for what you did, for what you're going to do, because let's face it, Charlie, deep down you're a killer just like me."

Charlie turned and walked across the room, his fists clenched and teeth gritted. "I am nothing like you!"

"Really?" Ghostface said, his voice mocking. "That's not what other people are saying. You killed poor little Oliver, an innocent man, a helpless victim of your own little games. Then Tyler, where do I start with Tyler? Shot him, killed him, didn't you? You're worse than me, actually."

Charlie's mind raced, filled with images of the past and the twisted logic Ghostface was trying to impose. The words stung, not because they were true, but because they were designed to manipulate and torment him. The detectives watched him closely, ready to intervene, but knowing that Charlie had to face this demon head-on.

"You don't know anything," Charlie said, his voice steadying as he fought to regain control. "I did what I had to do to survive. I'm not a killer, I'm a victim of your sick game."

Ghostface laughed, the sound echoing through the phone like nails on a chalkboard. "Keep telling yourself that, Charlie. We'll see how long you can hold onto that delusion." Charlie ended the call abruptly, his hands shaking.

"I think he's going after someone else!" Charlie said in a panic, his eyes wide with torment. "Oh, god. Fuck!" Charlie yelled loudly.

Kathleen stood in the shower, the hot water cascading over her shoulders and down her back. She closed her eyes, savouring the warmth that enveloped her. The sound of the rain pelting the roof outside created a soothing rhythm, a backdrop to her morning routine. Each drop hit with a steady, calming beat, blending with the sound of the water from the shower.

She leaned against the tiled wall, letting the steam rise around her and fill the small bathroom. The warmth of the water and the steady rain outside made her feel cocooned and safe, a stark contrast to the chill she had felt earlier. Kathleen took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of her favourite lavender soap. As the rain continued its relentless dance on the roof, she allowed herself a moment of peace, enjoying the rare quiet and solitude. With just the rain and hot water, this brief escape was a small luxury she cherished, grounding her before facing the day ahead.