It was the anniversary of the Woodsboro murders, the one of her mother and the ones of 1996 and understandably, it was difficult for Sidney. She coped differently each year; usually, she would lay in bed all day and avoid everyone but this year, she went out and ended up drunk. Absolutely blackout drunk.

You were waiting for her to get home when you heard the keys fumble in the front door. You sighed and got up, opening the already unlocked door. The sight before you was not what you were expecting. Sidney was barely standing and was apparently leaning on the door because when it opened, she fell forwards and into your arms.

"Sorry, sorry..." she whispers through giggles as she attempts to straighten up. Why was she even whispering? It was only 8pm.