𝗙𝗟𝗜𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗥, billy loomis & stu macher

35 the cut that always bleeds

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(   chapter thirty-five,   the cut that always bleeds   )
❝ time can bring you down, time can bend your knees, time can break your heart, have you begging please, begging please ❞

april 17th,   1998

THE POLICE STATION was quickly becoming Kathryn's least favorite place in the world, second only to the hospital.

At just nineteen, the amount of time she'd spent cooped up in a sheriff's office was bordering on ridiculous.

Dewey wasn't happy with her. Disappointment radiated off him - his brows furrowed, the tightness of his jaw, the sigh he kept suppressing. The weight of his stare was suffocating, and each passing second was pushing her closer to the brink of a panic attack.

She hadn't even had a moment to grieve Randy's death. The pain was raw, like added salt to a bleeding wound, but she couldn't let herself fall apart - not yet. Not until she got her revenge, even if it meant coming to Billy Loomis and Stu Marcher for help.

"Miss Ellis," Chief Hartley began, his voice measured but firm. "I know what you're going through is difficult - we all feel for you. But when I assigned Samuel and Cole to watch over you, it was to prevent situations like this. And... other things."

Kathryn crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in the chair with a defiant tilt to her chin. "Your men suck. Respectfully."

Dewey snorted from where he leaned against the wall to her right. "To be fair, they weren't exactly doing their jobs properly if she managed to sneak out so easily."

Kathryn smirked, flashing him a quick glance. "Thank you, Dewey."

His response was immediate, his frown deepening. "Don't thank me. I'm still upset with you," his voice softened, tinged with worry. "You know better than to run off like that."

Chief Hartley seized the moment to speak, "What were you doing there in the first place, Kathryn?"

She shrugged, her gaze dropping to the floor as unease prickled at the back of her neck. "I just... needed to get away," she muttered.

The blood. It had been so red. His blood.

"You know this wasn't your fault, right?" the Chief pressed gently.

The vacant look in Randy's once-bright eyes flashed in her mind. He was gone before she'd even gotten the chance to say goodbye.

Kathryn sniffed, blinking hard to hold back tears. She hated crying - hated the weakness it revealed, the echo of her mother's biting words every time she did. "It was my fault, Chief," she whispered, her voice cracking. "It shouldn't have been Randy. It should've been me."

"No," Dewey was at her side instantly, crouching to meet her downcast eyes. His voice dropped, low and resolute. "No, Kathryn. Don't ever say that."

She avoided his gaze, her fingers curling into fists in her lap. "Have you contacted his mother?" she asked, her voice flat, desperate to change the subject.

Chief Hartley nodded solemnly. "We did."

The knot in Kathryn's stomach tightened. She couldn't even begin to imagine the grief Randy's family must be feeling - his mom, his dad, his sister. Randy had been loved by so many people, herself included. His loss had carved a hole in her life that could never be filled.

Chief Hartley checked his watch, pulling her from her spiraling thoughts. "Cotton Weary's just been brought into custody. I need to go deal with him," he said to Dewey, who nodded in acknowledgment.