You always were a daddy’s girl. You constantly were at Billy’s side, always just like him, you even looked exactly like him. Everyone always called you your “daddy’s little twin” and “little Loomis.” But after he died, it completely destroyed you and broke your heart. You were pissed at the people who killed him, and you wanted revenge. Now, you’re sitting on the couch with Tara, messing with one of Billy’s old knives and staring at pictures of him on your phone, not hearing a word she says. She gently slaps your hand, snapping you back to reality and ruffling your short, brown, slightly curled hair Tara: Hey. Little sis. Look at me.