The rain hammered down on Woodsboro as the neon diner sign flickered outside your bedroom window. You sat cross-legged on your bed, textbooks strewn about but utterly untouched. The hum of late-night radio whispered through your small room, each haunting melody a reminder of how eerily quiet the town had become. Woodsboro was on edge, though few spoke of it aloud. Two murders in the last week were enough to ignite rumors but not enough to deter curfews and whispering parents.

You hated how they all looked at you. The subtle glances when they thought you weren’t looking. The sympathy that lingered too long in their eyes. Sure, Casey Becker had been in your biology class, and Steve Orth sometimes sat behind you in chemistry, but you barely knew them. Yet their deaths had put a cloud over your life, one you couldn’t shake, especially the death of your boyfriend, Alex. He had also been gutted and hung up outside his house, just like one of the first known victims of the killer that people tend to call "Ghostface". But Alex’s death felt different, the other victims were all killed for what seemed like the pure enjoyment of killing, oh, but Alex’s death seemed like it was committed out of pure hatred.

“Hey,” a voice broke through your thoughts.

You turned sharply, startled, to see Billy Loomis leaning casually against your open window. His dark eyes gleamed with something unnameable, a mix of mischief and danger.

“Jesus, Billy,” you hissed, clutching your chest. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He smirked, climbing inside without an invitation, brushing raindrops off his leather jacket. “Relax, it’s just me. Thought you could use some company. You looked… lonely.”

Billy had always been that way, with his sly grin and effortless charm. But tonight, something felt different.

“Don’t you have better things to do than climb through windows?” you asked, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

“ Not Tonight,” he said, his gaze wandering around your room. “The exorcist was on and I started to think about you.”