Entanglement of Time

Chapter 7: Forgotten Memories

Summary: The group hangs out around downtown Woodsboro, causing memories that Tara pushed away to resurface in this new timeline. 

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Tara stares absently at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, the faint hum of Sam's movements downstairs barely registering in her mind. Her thoughts swirl, revisiting the intervention. It wasn't perfect, but it had worked—kind of.

She, Sam, Chad, and Mindy had managed to coax Amber into revealing the name they'd been waiting for, the name of the puppet master weaving his sinister influence into her life. Richie.

Now, Tara is treading carefully. The revelation feels like a ticking time bomb, one they can't afford to let explode. She's taken a gentler approach with Amber since the intervention, attempting to rebuild trust while nudging her toward transparency.

Slowly, she's been warming up to the idea of asking to see Amber's phone without outright saying it. The phone is a key—possibly the key—to proving Richie's manipulation. If Tara could get her hands on it, even for a few minutes, she could screenshot their messages and send them to herself.

The plan is simple enough, but Tara knows the execution won't be. They can't go to Sheriff Judy Hicks for help; the woman has a reputation for dismissing anything she deems trivial, and Amber's history of clashing with authority only complicates matters. Judy wouldn't take Amber's situation seriously. Still, there had to be someone they could trust, someone willing to listen.

Tara sighs, gripping the edge of the sink. Her mind drifts to Amber again—her complexities, her contradictions. Amber's resistance to authority has always been a defining trait, but Tara has started to notice the deeper cracks beneath the surface. Being sent back in time has given her a fresh perspective, allowing her to see what she might have missed before.

Amber has always been an enigma. When they first met in preschool, she had been the quiet one, the type of kid who observed more than she spoke. Yet, even then, she was remarkably intelligent, sharp beyond her years.

There was a mystery about her, a spark that set her apart. As they grew older, that spark became something darker, and more volatile. The quiet, intelligent girl transformed into someone who exuded a subtle, almost dangerous energy.

Tara realizes now that the danger was always there, simmering beneath the surface. In the original timeline, it must have boiled over during the attacks. The thought sends a chill down her spine.

She exhales slowly, stepping away from the mirror. Amber's danger isn't the only ghost haunting her thoughts. Their mother is absent, as usual, away on yet another business trip. Tara doesn't miss her presence—if anything, it's a relief.

Their mother's bitterness toward Sam creates an unbearable tension whenever she's around. The older woman never forgave Sam for "ruining her life," a claim rooted in Sam's discovery of her true parentage.

It's a mess of history that Tara knows all too well. Sam had confronted their mother years ago, revealing that her biological father was Billy Loomis—one of the first Ghostfaces. Their mother's infidelity and the resulting fallout had shattered their family, driving Sam away when she was barely more than a teenager. Tara, only eight at the time, had been caught in the crossfire, too young to fully understand but old enough to feel the sting of abandonment.

Now, years later, Sam is back, standing in the kitchen as she cooks breakfast. Tara descends the stairs quietly, drawn by the familiar clatter of pots and pans. She pauses in the doorway, watching her sister move with practiced efficiency.

Sam turns around, spotting Tara. "Jesus, you scared me," she says, hand over her heart.

"Sorry," Tara mutters, slipping into a seat at the kitchen island.