If there was anything... and I mean anything... that Reese Prescott hated more than house sitting in general... it was house sitting with her sister, Sidney. <12 AM,> Reese closed her eyes, clutched the throw pillow as close as close could be to her chest, and tried her best to block-out everything but the TV... to no avail. <and... they're still here.>
A house party was NOT a part of the job description.
The familiar beat of the Backstreet Boys seeped through the walls of the lounge, drowning-out the reporter on TV and prompted Reese to cover her face with the throw pillow with enough force to potentially leave a bruise in the process! A low, barely audible groan seeped from her lips -- it didn't help in the least that it had beads all over it. <Ouch.> Instead of moving, surveying the damage, she simply let it be and reached for the remote. <Oh?> The remote... had been on the arm of the recliner, next to the magazine she'd been reading earlier that night, but... she couldn't feel it. <What?>
The more she felt around the arm of the recliner, the more she realized two things:
1. The remote was gone
2. Someone was there
It was in that moment in time that Reese realized that she hadn't been awkwardly feeling around the arm of the recliner, but someone's arm! Reese mentally slapped herself upside the head for managing to be stupid enough to mistake an arm for a piece of furniture and cautiously, begrudgingly moved the throw pillow.
Oh.
It took a couple of seconds for Reese's eyes to re-adjust to the dim lighting, her rapidfire blinking earning a chuckle from her mystery visitor; did he really have to swipe the remote? <How is it this easy...> Billy cocked his head to the side, remote in hand and a mischievous grin plastered on his face. <... to sneak up on you?> The two ended up engaged in a staring contest. It... was a habit of theirs. Staring contests; it didn't matter the circumstances.
After what felt like centuries of staring, Reese had had enough and decided to end it via. the 1st-way that came to mind:
Reese poked Billy square in the forehead.
A shroud of silence befell the lounge, enough to overcome the music -- sounds like... Nirvana? --, but not Reese's heart, which had begun to pound hard, hard enough to make it seem as if a Chest-Burster were close to springing out!
Run.
Acting on impulse, Reese lept from the recliner and made a run for it, Billy hot on her heels as she moved throughout the 1st-story of the house like a bat straight out of Hell! Around the corners, down the halls, around the decor, and repeat.
"Hey!" Billy barked. "Get back here!"
Reese hissed, "Never!"
It was only a matter of time before they reached the living room, again, and Reese, decided that, since she had finally lost Billy, it was time to look for a hiding spot... and fast. <Shit! Shit! Shit!> Diving into a nearby closet, Reese took a breather and listened. Footsteps. Panting. Breathing other than her own. Billy's voice. Anything that could alert her to his presence. At this rate, it looked like she might be holed up in the closet for some time, but... it would be fatal to assume so.
One had to be prepared to move at any given time.
All the while keeping an eye out for Billy, Reese crawled to the back of the closet, utilizing guests' coats and jackets as camouflage until she could seek out a better spot. Aside from her still pounding heart and her ragged breathing that she tried so desperately to silence, there was no sound. Thank Go -- fuck! The door to the closet swung open, nearly prompting Reese to jump and scream, but she forced herself to remain silent. It could very well be Billy, but It could also very well be Sidney or Tatum or Stu.
Go.
GO. GO. GO. GO. GO. GO. GO. GO.
Go.
Time seemed to come to a standstill as Reese waited for the intruder to leave. <What,> The urge to say, "FUCK IT!" and make another run for it was strong, but, regardless of if she wanted to or not, it didn't matter -- this bitch was blocking her only exit! <is taking you so long!?>
Billy cooed, "I know you're in here ~"
Fuck.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
Fuck.
Hangers clanged against the metal rod they lay suspended from, a sound that, to a normal person, would be nothing new, but to Reese, especially now... oh no. That sound was essentially the sound of a firing squad collectively pulling the trigger! Man. This hiding spot was a bad idea. Man. It didn't work that well for Laurie when she was hiding from Michael -- a coat hanger, Laurie? A coat hanger?
Billy continued, sifting through the garments, "Reese ~"
"FUCK IT!"
In a fit of pure, unadulterated adrenaline -- stupidity. It was stupidity. -- Reese reached-out from the shadows, grabbed ahold of one of Billy's ankles, yanked him to the ground, and, while he was still trying to figure out what had happened, made another run for it, slamming the closet door shut behind her! Billy kicked the door open, expecting to see Reese, but she was gone. Damn. <You,> Another grin, far more mischievous from it's predecessor, crawled across his lips. <can't hide forever.> Using his free hand to brush the dust from his jeans, Billy kept his other hand flush against the door frame, taking a breather for himself. The fact that Reese had done such a thing in such a circumstance... pleased him. Excited him. It made him want more.
"So," A familiar voice purred into Billy's ear. "are we calling a time?"
The man in question, startled by the sudden intrusion, spun on his heels... only to come face-to-face with the woman in question, her brown eyes sparkling, her lips curled into a grin reminiscent of that of The Cheshire Cat, and her hands... containing... his bowie knife. Um... how? Where? When? What? Um... how?
Damnit, Reese. Damnit.
YOU ARE READING
REESE
HorrorDISCLAIMER: This is a fanfiction based on Scream('96); I do not claim ownership over the world of Scream('96), nor the canon characters such as Sidney Prescott, ETC. REESE is my own invention and is not purported and/or believed to be part of Kevin...
