Never trust the love interest.

You used to think it was a stupid horror movie rule, before you began to really think about it. Stu Macher, Billy Loomis, Richie Kirsch— all of them had been the least suspecting culprit, and then, boom, you were fucking gutted on the floor. You couldn't even count the amount of times Mindy had gone over these rules for the franchise, this rule being one of her top priorities.

And yeah, considering that Mindy herself took into mind that she couldn't fully trust Anika anymore, her own goddamn girlfriend for a few months now, you probably should've taken her advice and distanced yourself from Ethan. But you didn't— because there was no way he was fucking Ghostface, he was way too shy, and awkward and adorably dorky for that. Right! Right?

Actually, yeah, you were right.

Ethan told you all that he was “late” arriving at Tara and Sam's place, where you all decided to stay to be safer. Weird, right? No, he was probably just stuck in traffic, that was all. Then, Quinns thrown out of her room, tumbling into you all, dead, covered in blood. And Ethan still wasn't here yet.

You'd all sort of split up in the apartment now, god knows why, it was like a number one horror sequel rule that even Mindy mentioned. You were locked in Sam's bedroom, eyes screwed shut and hand grasping you're shirt, silently begging that you didn't hear that god awful voice changer sound. “Guys?” Fuck. That was Ethans voice.

“Guys? What— oh, what the actual fuck!” Okay, maybe he saw Quinns dead body and Chad and Tara yelling at him to get the fuck out the apartment. But the Ghostfaces' barging against the bathroom door stopped seconds before Ethans voice was heard. Shit. He was totally Ghostface. He was totally motherfucking Ghostface.

Till he wasn't. Plot twist! The next thing you heard was Ethans blood-curdling screams, the sound of bodies being shoved against walls and on floors, and you're eyes practically shot open, scrambling to frantically get up, finding yourself staring down the hallway to see none other than Ghostface stabbing you're boyfriend in the stomach. So it wasn't him. Lucky you!

Without even thinking, you find yourself somehow fighting the masked killer off of Ethan, snatching the knife from his bloodied hands (goes against all horror movie rules, but who gives a fuck anymore?) before getting a good few stabs on them. Well, you could only assume they were good, with the blood dripping from the cloak.

“Stay the fuck away from my boyfriend, bitch!” Was the type of stuff you were yelling whilst stabbing them, repeatedly, not giving a fuck if the others were alright now— only about keeping Ethan safe. “Stay the fucking hell away from him you mother—” You screeched as Ghostface managed to squirm out of you're grip, and when you looked back up from you're spot laying on the bloodied floor, they were gone, just like that— just like always.

Now you were left here, laying on the ground as you listen to the rest of you're friends scrambling out of their hiding places, some of them (Chad) attempting to sprint out the apartment after Ghostface, with a stab wound in you're side, you're boyfriend leant against a wall in front of you, clutching his multuple injuries with shaky breaths, legs close to giving way, after you saved his life. You saved his life. You risked you're life for his.

You saved him.