A WEEK HAD PASSED since Dewey's cremation. Tatum stood next to Gale at the small memorial, the sling and neck brace irritating her more than the silence around them. She shifted uncomfortably, eyes glazed over as some local friends of Dewey's murmured their condolences. She wasn't listening. Her mind focused on trying to ignore the itch beneath the brace.
Once it was over, they drove back to Dewey's trailer. The old trailer was exactly how she remembered it last—cluttered, dusty, and reeking of stale beer. She never understood why her dad never remodeled or something, the place hadn't changed since she was a kid, when her summers were spent here with her dad, back when he didn't drink as much. He had tried back then, tried to stay sober enough for her visits.
She'd catch it in small moments—the way he'd cook her favorite grilled cheese or let her watch whatever cheesy TV show she liked without a word of complaint. She'd noticed it in the way his drinking seemed to lessen, at least while she was there, his rough attempts at staying present, even if he was clumsy at it.
Now, the trailer looked like it had swallowed him whole. Empty beer cans stacked in corners, old fishing gear cluttered the back door, and the TV sat on a shaky stand, collecting dust. Artemis, her Belgian Malinois, trotted over and sniffed the floor, unimpressed by the mess.
Gale, on the other hand, was already sorting through Dewey's things. She moved with an eerie efficiency, opening drawers, rifling through cabinets, and sorting piles into boxes to take back to New York. "What do you want to keep?" Gale asked, her voice sounding far away as she lifted a framed photo of Dewey and Tatum from one of their fishing trips.
Tatum glanced around, not particularly moved by the sight of his belongings. She could see Gale trying to make sense of it all, but to her, it was just junk. "I don't want anything. It's just stuff," she muttered, her voice edged with irritation.
Gale set down the picture with a sigh, pausing to look at her daughter. "Fine," she said, her voice soft. "But we're taking your aunt with us." She nodded toward a dusty urn on the mantle, It contained the remains of Tatum, Dewey's sister.
Gale didn't wait for an answer, heading outside to give Tatum space. The door creaked behind her, leaving Tatum alone in the dim light of the trailer.
Tatum stood there, staring at the mess Dewey had left behind. Artemis circled her feet, sensing her mood, her cold nose pressing against Tatum's leg in a silent reminder that she was still here. The trailer, suddenly felt suffocating.
As she looked around, it hit her harder than she expected. This is where she'd end up if she didn't change something. If she didn't care. Dewey had died alone in this trailer, and if she didn't at least try to connect, to give a damn about someone other than herself and her mom, she knew she'd be next. The thought rattled her, shaking loose a realization she hadn't wanted to face.
She didn't want this—this hollow, empty life. She didn't want to end up like Dewey, living alone, only to die and leave behind a dirty trailer with nothing but memories and regrets. It gnawed at her, the fear that she was already on that path. All the times she'd dismissed therapy, refused to care about anyone, convinced herself that emotions were a waste of time.
Tatum swallowed hard, the bitter taste of it settling in her chest. She had to try. She had to keep going to therapy, had to at least pretend to make emotional connections. Not just with Gale, but with other people. Maybe it wasn't too late to care. Maybe if she kept trying, she wouldn't end up like this—trapped in her own version of Dewey's life, alone, bitter, and drowning in indifference.
She looked at the urn holding her aunt's ashes, then over at Dewey's. They were both dead, but that didn't mean she had to end up like them. Tatum knew she had to start now, even if it felt like a pointless battle. She had to try, or she'd end up exactly where she feared—an empty shell, just waiting to fade away.
Artemis nudged her again, her eyes watchful, and Tatum gave the dog a faint smile. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered, rubbing the dog's head absently. Gale called from outside, asking if she was ready to leave.
"Coming," Tatum replied, her voice steadier than she felt.
Before leaving, she stepped into her old room, scanning the familiar chaos. Her stuff was scattered everywhere, but nothing held any real significance. She grabbed a few clothes and stuffed them into her duffel bag, her movements mechanical, like a chore she had to complete.
As she zipped the bag, left her room and grabbed both the urns, commanded Artemis to follow and joined her mom in the car.
As she drove to the airport, Gale's hands gripped the steering wheel, she then glanced over at Tatum in the passenger seat, who was staring out the window. The weight of their recent loss hung heavily between them, the air thick with unspoken emotions.
Tatum's phone buzzed in her lap, snapping her from her thoughts. She glanced down at the screen, seeing a message from Tara. Hey, want to meet up before you leave? Would love to see you
Tatum's expression soured. She sighed, her fingers hovering over the screen, debating whether to respond. "Tara wants to meet up," Tatum said, her voice flat.
Gale looked over, sensing her daughter's irritation. "Do you want to stop by?"
Tatum shook her head, her brows furrowing in frustration. "I just want to get home. I don't feel like dealing with everyone right now."
Gale kept her focus on the road but felt the tension radiating from Tatum. "I understand, but it might be good to say goodbye before we leave."
"No, Mom. I said I don't want to," Tatum snapped, her voice came out harsher than intended. "It's just too much right now."
The finality in Tatum's tone silenced Gale. She could feel her daughter's frustration, a reminder of the emotional toll the past week had taken on them both. Gale's heart ached for her, but she also knew better than to push.
"Okay," Gale said softly, turning her attention back to the road. "We'll head straight to the airport then."
As they drove on, the skyline of the city came into view, a reminder of the life they were returning to—one filled with its own challenges. Tatum's eyes flickered toward the buildings, her thoughts still miles away, lost in the memories of what they were leaving behind.
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DEATH IS LIFE | SCREAM
Fanfiction"DO YOU LIKE SCARY MOVIES?" When Tatum gets sent to Woodsboro as punishment, she gets more than she bargained for when a masked copycat killer decides to recreate the murders from the 1996 massacre. SCREAM V-VI
