ASSHOLES | scream au

6. gale, gale, gale

The late afternoon sun cast an ugly gray light that crept through the blinds, illuminating the small, empty lobby of the hospital. A cup of coffee on the side table sat neglected, growing cold as Gale Weathers sat alone, her mind adrift in a sea of numbness. The emptiness around her felt heavy, the silence a quiet tribute to the mourner who occupied the space. She stared blankly at nothing, her thoughts a jumbled mess.

Sam Carpenter entered tentatively, her footsteps hesitant as she mustered the courage to speak. "I'm sorry. I didn't know him well," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "But he helped me."

For a moment, it was unclear whether Gale even heard her. The weight of grief hung in the air like a fog, thick and suffocating. Then, slowly, Gale turned her gaze to Sam, her eyes reflecting a painful honesty. "That's what he did. He helped people."

The words hung heavy between them, and Sam felt a chill run down her spine. "If you had stopped him," she replied softly, "my sister would be dead."

Gale looked up at Sam, and her expression shifted as she absorbed the gravity of the statement. "I don't care," she admitted, the truth cutting through the tension like a knife.

Just then, a nurse appeared in the entryway, breaking the fragile moment. "Samantha?" she called out, her voice crisp against the heavy silence.

Sam turned, her heart racing. "Your sister's awake," the nurse continued, and Sam rose to her feet, a swirl of emotions churning inside her. She wanted to say more to Gale, to offer comfort or understanding, but the words escaped her. Instead, she followed the nurse, leaving Gale alone once more.

The lobby fell back into silence, but it was soon interrupted by a familiar voice. "Gale?"

Gale looked up, expecting to see Sam again, but instead, her breath caught in her throat. There stood Sidney Prescott, framed in the doorway, her presence a sudden and overwhelming shock. "Sid...?" Gale breathed, disbelief flooding her features.

As if drawn together by an invisible force, Gale rose to meet Sidney, and they embraced tightly, two souls seeking solace in the midst of their shared grief. "You shouldn't be here," Gale murmured, her voice muffled against Sidney's shoulder.

Sidney pulled back slightly, her eyes filled with understanding and pain. "You shouldn't be here either," she replied, the weight of their situation pressing heavily on both of them.

In that moment of vulnerability, they held each other more tightly, the tears flowing freely as the reality of their losses settled around them like a shroud. The world outside continued to move, but in that small lobby, time stood still, and for a brief moment, they found comfort in one another amidst the chaos of grief.

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Tara was settled in her new hospital room, cradling her phone as she listened to Amber's long-winded apology. She stared at her lap, feeling the weight of Amber's words wash over her. Deep down, Tara understood that it wasn't Amber's fault—she had been a victim of the chaos that surrounded them. Yet, a part of her ached with the realization that she wouldn't have had to endure this harrowing experience alone if Amber had been there. The silence in the room was punctuated by the sound of Amber's voice, but it felt like a distant echo, muffled by the pain and loneliness that clung to Tara like a second skin. Just then, Sam entered the room, the familiar sound of her jacket being unzipped breaking through Tara's thoughts. Sam set her jacket down on the chair before easing herself onto the bed beside Tara, concern etched across her face. "How are you feeling?" she asked gently, her voice softening the atmosphere.