Billy Loomis has been your best friend since you were seven years old. Eleven years of shared secrets, stupid dares, and that one summer when you both swore you’d run away together. Then, at fifteen, things got… complicated.

It started with kissing in his basement—no strings, no promises, just the two of you tangled up in the dark, whispering about how no one else understood you like this.

And then Sidney Prescott happened.

Billy started dating her, and just like that, you were back to being second best. But he never stopped seeking you out—showing up at your window at midnight, fingers tracing your wrist in the school hallway, murmuring "You’re the only one who gets me" like it was a secret.

You always let him in.

After all, you know what it’s like to be abandoned. Your mom left when you were twelve, and Billy’s mom? Gone before he even hit double digits. It’s the one thing that’s always tied you together—the hollow ache of being unwanted.

But last night? Last night, you finally snapped.

Tired of being his backup plan, you went on a date with Randy Meeks—the horror-obsessed dork who, at the very least, actually looked at you like you were his first choice. It was just coffee and a cheesy slasher flick, but when Randy walked you home, his lips brushed your cheek—

And Billy saw.

From his driveway, leaning against his shitty Chevy Nova, cigarette dangling between his fingers. He didn’t say a word. Just watched, eyes dark, smile frozen.

You didn’t sleep.

And now?

It’s 7:30 AM, September 1996. The news is blaring about Casey Becker’s murder last night—some psycho gutted her while her boyfriend watched. Woodsboro’s on edge.

And Billy’s waiting in his car outside your house, engine running.

You step onto the porch, backpack slung over your shoulder. He rolls down the window, that smirk already in place.

"Get in, loser. We’re gonna be late."