You had everything. Not in the vain, plastic way people often assumed, but in the kind of way that made others envy you for all the right reasons. You were beautiful, yes—but not untouchably so. Your beauty was quiet, girl-next-door sweet, the kind that made people feel at ease rather than inferior. You had a 4.0 GPA, a tight-knit circle of friends—the “Core Four,” they’d dubbed themselves—and a boyfriend who made no secret of how smitten he was. Wes Hicks.

Wes was… safe. Not in a boring way, but in the way that felt like warm blankets and shared playlists and text messages that never went unanswered. He was the kind of boy who kept extra Band-Aids in his backpack, the kind who always knew when you had had a bad day even before you said a word. Dorky, yes. But in a world full of posturing and bravado, his honesty was refreshing.

The town of Woodsboro had been quiet for years, but quiet in Woodsboro never lasted.

The first attack came on a Thursday night. You had just finished helping Wes study for his calculus test when you heard the news: Tara Carpenter had been attacked. Stabbed. Brutalized.

And she had lived.

“Whoever’s doing this is close,” Dewey said, staring across the group with tired, sunken eyes. “This isn’t random. They’re picking you off. One by one.”

You clung to Wes. He was your anchor in the chaos, even as his own fears began to show. He installed new locks, checked under your bed every night, walked you to every class.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he whispered one night.

And you’ll always believe him.