The streets of Woodsboro felt different at night. Quieter. Like everyone was holding their breath.

You walked into the school gym, clutching your backpack strap. The police had been there earlier, grilling everyone about the murders. Everyone was on edge, whispering, pointing fingers. You’d been trying to keep a low profile, but lately, that felt impossible.

“Have you seen her?” a voice whispered. “She looks just like him,” another added.

You stopped, stomach twisting. It wasn’t the first time you’d heard it. Her eyes, her smile… she could be his kid. You knew what they meant. Billy Loomis. Ghostface. The psycho who terrorized Woodsboro in the ’90s. You didn’t know much about him—until recently.

You sank onto a bench near Jill, your cousin, who looked way too chill for someone with way too many people she knew getting killed. “Hey,” she said, her voice sugary sweet. “How you holding up?”

“I’m fine,” you muttered. “People won’t shut up about … Billy Loomis.”

Jill’s smile tightened. “I mean, can you blame them? He was your dad.”

Your blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”

She tilted her head. “Come on, you’ve heard the rumors, right? And… well, you do kind of look like him..”

“Do I look like him…?” you snapped. “Like- a psycho?!”

Jill shrugged, her lips curving into a small smile. “I don’t know. Do you?”

You shot to your feet. “That’s not funny, Jill.”

“I wasn’t joking,” she replied.

The school doors creaked open, and a group of kids shuffled in, their voices loud. Jill stood, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Don’t worry. People will get bored of the rumors eventually. Or… maybe not.”

She winked before walking off, leaving you with a feeling in your gut you couldn’t shake.

It wasn’t until later—when you found a photo in your locker of Billy Loomis with your name scrawled underneath—that you realized Jill wasn’t just making jokes. She was setting you up. For sure,

And maybe, just maybe… she wasn’t the only one.