𝕀ℝℝ𝔼𝕊𝕀𝕋𝔸𝔹𝕃𝔼 𝔾𝕀ℝ𝕃//𝔹. 𝕃𝕆𝕆𝕄𝕀𝕊 ◦ 𝕆ℂ ◦ 𝕊. 𝕄𝔸ℝℂℍ𝔼ℝ

❝𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕊𝕥𝕦𝕡𝕚𝕕 ℙ𝕠𝕡𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕟.❞

When you came too, you were greeted with the distraught face of your mother and the sweet face of a worried Officer Riley. You attempted to sit up, assisted by the two figures hovering over you. God, your body ached. Why did it feel like you'd been hit in the head with a brick?

Wait.

The moment you asked yourself the question, everything came flooding back. The calls. The taunting. The games the masked man played. The way he seemed to know just a little too much about you and Casey-

Casey.

Any haziness left clouding your eyes disappeared as you look between your mother and the man you might go as far as to call your older brother. They both look sympathetic, anguished even. Your heart wrenches in your chest, and even if you already know the answer you ask the question. Maybe you're wrong. Maybe she scared the killer off when she saved you. Maybe she was simply resting in the ambulance next to you, recovering from the near-death experience. Maybe your friend wasn't dead-

Then your eyes caught the sight of the tree behind Dewey. He stiffened, like he had been trying to block the sight from your view with his body.

Because hung from that tree, was the body of your close friend, Casey Becker. Tears swelled in your eyes, and you clutched Billy's hoodie ever closer to your body.

"W-what- what happened...?"

You doubled over in a coughing fit. Your throat felt like it was filled with hot coals and ash. Dewey, to his credit, immediately jumped to and ran off, coming back seconds later with a glass of water. Your mother, ever the health expert, continued her checkup on you, speaking as she worked.

"Casey's parents came home to find Casey and Steve dead, and you cut up and unconscious in the house inhaling smoke from the fire that had started in the kitchen."

Right. That stupid popcorn.

"After we're done checking you over, the police are going to have some questions for you. They're going to find who did this, so just try to stay strong until we can get home, okay?"

Your mother held your face gently, careful of the gash on your cheek. She placed a kiss on your forehead. Every touch was so feather-light and hesitant you felt like you were made of glass on the verge of shattering. Her eyes were filled with so much regret and self-loathing you wanted to cry. This wasn't her fault. It was no one's fault but his.

Nonetheless, you nodded weakly. Why you of all people? The killer knew who all of you were. Had you done something to hurt or offend them? You shook your head. There was no point trying to understand the mind of someone willing to brutalize teenagers with no obvious reason as to why.

It didn't shake the horrible feeling you had that this wasn't the last you'd be seeing of that godforsaken mask, though.

– – – – – – – –

The questioning ( ̶i̶n̶t̶e̶r̶r̶o̶g̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶) went on for what felt like hours. The police were desperate for as much intel as they could get, and as the only survivor and living witness to the massacure, you had to pay the price of your continued existence by answering their queries.

Dewey was by your side throughout the entire thing, bless his heart. He did most of the questioning, and was patient the entire time, not so much as getting annoyed when you broke down crying for the fourth time as you recounted what you had survived. His eyes were soft and regretful as he handed you yet another tissue.

"Don't strain yourself Ash, just get some rest. We can continue this tomorrow." He said gently, leading you out of the station. You were to tired to put two and two together at the time to realize tomorrow was a school day, and that meant they'd be questioning you at school, too.

Your mother sat in the lobby, tapping her foot against the stone slab floor. Her face was drawn together in what could only be described as pure devastation. The moment she saw you, however, the look fell from her face and she wore a gentle smile, hands steady as she led you to the car and drove you home.

The drive was silent, your mother choosing to simply hold one of your hands as she drove. It wasn't until she was tucking you into bed that her picture perfect facade of calm slipped and cracked. Even in the darkness you could see the hurt, the shame, that shined in her eyes.

"Mum, please- just, just stop hating yourself over this. You- you couldn't have known. You were just at work. Me going over to Casey's had never gone bad before. So please, just- stop." You begged, taking her hand in yours before she could pull away.

It took her a moment to respond, her throat bobbing as she swallowed back her cries.

"You could have died, Ashlyn. You could have died in someone else's house because I spend too much time at work for you to feel safe staying home alone."

"That's not your fault! You work a long night shift, no one's blaming you-" You started, but she cut you off.

"I am blaming myself! I am your mother! I should be there for you when you get home and be there to make you a warm dinner, and be there to hold you when you're feeling stressed and overwhelmed. I have been neglecting you, and I am beyond ashamed that it took you almost dying for me to realize it!" She cried, anguish clear as day in her voice.

At this point both of you were crying. You weren't sure how you still had tears left to shed, but they poured out like salty streams down both of your faces.

"Oh... mum..."

She smiled sadly down at you.

"I'm applying for a day shift as soon as I can. It will probably still be pretty early in the morning, and I'll be gone by the time you leave for school, but I should be able to be home by the time you get back. I don't want to make your life any harder than it had to be... and, I don't want to take away your choice to have a mom in your life."

For a moment you were unsure what to say. So you threw your arms around her neck and pulled her down on top of you, the two of you simply holding each other and reassuring one another that you were in fact, alive and okay.

You would be okay.