𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕠𝕦𝕣

 ❛ 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐣𝐚𝐢𝐥.❜

☎

"Can I talk to my mom?" You croaked. The inside of the police station was bright and loud. The near-white overhead lights were burning your tired eyes and you were still wearing your pajamas, only Dewey had sacrificed his brown leather bomber jacket to you just over an hour ago.

A dixie cup of lukewarm water was clutched tightly in your hands. You used the toes of your slippers to spin the seat of your wheely chair while Tatum crouched beside you, stroking your arm in a comforting manner. "They said they'd call as soon as possible," she assured.

"Oh."

You thought that maybe after seeing Casey's body strung up in her front yard like a tire swing, you could be immune to shock. You thought that there couldn't be a worse feeling in the entire world and that a person could only feel it once in a lifetime. Yet here you were. 

Just about the only thing you could do with confidence was raise the paper cup to your lips and take small sips at a time. The tap water cooled your burning throat after all that running and screaming. You had been running on empty without even realizing it. 

The phone call played over and over in your head like a broken record. 

'Oh, you know all about final girls, don't you?'

The name made you squint your eyes shut with a silent shudder. A final girl was a trope in most of the movies you watched. By the end of the movie, only one character, usually a formerly ditzy cheerleader left traumatized by watching her clique get killed off one by one, is left standing to tell the tale. It wasn't a role you were particularly looking forward to emmulating, to say the least.

A thin plexiglass door rattled as it slapped against the far wall of the police station and you lifted your head to watch as Billy was led out of the interrogation room with his hands behind his back. His eyes searched the station wildly before landing directly on you. Even from far away you could read that wounded look in his wide dark eyes. A flower of guilt bloomed in your gut. 

"Did they talk to Billy?"

Tatum paused her ministrations and lowered her hand away. She had no idea. The jingling of keys sounded and you both watched the Sheriff waddled back over to the desk that you were seated at. He tipped his hat respectfully and you frowned, looking back down at the linoleum floor.

"We'll have to keep Mr. Loomis in holding until we're able to get ahold of the phone records from the cellular device that he had on his person during the arrest."

"I-I'm really sorry." You wrung the hem of your pink satin pajama top. "I shouldn't have freaked out like I did. He heard me screaming from the street and wanted to help, that's all."

"You're a forgiving person, Miss (Y/L/N)," the Sheriff smiled, but the gesture was filled with pity. "But he could have very well had something to do with your attack tonight. It's better to be safe than sorry."

You turned around just in time to make eye contact with Billy right as he was shoved roughly out of a side door that led out to the parking lot. Camera flashes bled in through the open doorway and you bit your lip. The press had completely surrounded the building upon your arrival.

Tatum squeezed your shoulder, signaling you to stand up alongside her. "C'mon," she said. "We better get you home. We still have school tomorrow."

Ugh. School.