A year ago Woodsboro resident Maureen Prescott was brutally murdered, now Katherine must go through all the pain and heartbreak again as it seems history is going to repeat itself.
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"How does it feel to almost be brutally murdered?"
"I don't know...
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A finely dressed couple pulls up to a luxury house and makes small talk about their respective days. Upon seeing the front door of their home ajar, the pair cautiously walks in.
The home was complete carnage around them; everything was broken or in disarray. "Jesus-" the man says, glancing around at all the damage, thinking it was some kind of robbery.
"What is it?" His wife asks, still not having seen the state of her house, until she pushes in next to him. "Where's Casey?" she asks, panic-stricken, looking for her only child.
Noticing the smell of burning, she rushes to the kitchen, where she finds a popcorn packet on fire. "Casey? Casey?" She screams, but there is no answer; the home is seemingly empty other than themselves.
In a split second, they're both terrified, thinking about what could have happened in their home and where Casey had disappeared to, the man begins searching the house frantically.
The woman is hysterical. "Where is she?" she screams at her husband, who is pushing her in the direction of the phone.
"Call the police," he tells her sternly before gazing around again, "Casey? Where are you, honey?" He sees his wife standing still with the phone in her hands, and he growls. "Call the police, goddammit."
The woman has the phone in her hand, and there's no dial tone. She hesitantly puts it to her ear and hears the softest, faintest voice on the other end.
'help me...'
It was her daughter, Casey, gasping for help. "Oh my god. Casey? Baby?" Mrs. Becker whispers softly in disbelief.
Her husband returns to the foyer, finding his wife clinging to the phone. "I can hear her. Oh, Mother of God, I can hear her," she screams hysterically, waving the phone.
He grabs hold of his wife, gently shaking her. "Get in the car and drive down to the MacKenzie's," he says, swallowing hard, not knowing what he's going to see when they find Casey.
His wife shakes her head, knowing that if he were trying to get her to leave, it couldn't be good for their daughter. "No, not my baby," she cries softly in defeat as she stumbles out of the door with the phone clutched to her chest.
Hearing his wife's heartbreaking shriek, Mr. Becker rushes out the door to find his wife on her knees, bent over, sobbing. His gaze moves to a tree in the front yard; his stomach fails him as he sees the single, most horrifying sight he'll ever see.
The image of his only daughter as she hangs from their big oak tree, strung up dead with her stomach ripped open and her insides spilling to the floor.
