HAUNTED

____________

MARJORIE FEELS AS though her heart might stop, the pain in her chest becoming unbearable as the reality of Ethan being the person beneath the black cloak seems to set in. His wide grin makes the aching even worse, though he refuses to meet her eyes as he speaks.

"Mindy was right," Ethan says with a chuckle. "It was easy to juke the roommate lottery. I mean, all I had to do to meet you was room with a conceited, condescending alpha literally named Chad— Fuck, it felt good to kill him!"

Every word that comes out of his mouth makes the knot in Marjorie's stomach tighten.

"This was your grandmother's, Sam." He raises the mask, using the knife to point at it as his brows lift slightly. "Nancy Loomis? Really runs in your fucking family, doesn't it?" The smile on his face drops suddenly, "Speaking of family..."

"Wait for it," Bailey chimes in.

"My name's not Ethan Landry!" He glances to the older man, who has burst into a fit of laughter at the revelation. "Is it, Dad?"

"Dad?" Tara echoes, while Marjorie is left speechless by the boy's confession.

Sam lets out a deep breath, her eyes trained on the first killer. "Wait. If it's you two, that just leaves..." Her voice becomes trapped in her throat, and Ghostface tilts their head at the woman. "Mindy?"

Marjorie shakes her head, everything in her hoping that Sam's presumption is wrong. The killer grasps the bottom of the mask, slowly taking it off their head and removing the hood. When Quinn shakes her hair out of her face, the Carpenter sisters and Marjorie gape in shock at the sight of their supposedly deceased friend standing before them.

"Hey, roomies," Quinn greets them in a sing-songy tone. "You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"Yeah, because you died!" Tara exclaims.

"Kind of didn't, though. It was a good way to get off the suspect list," the girl shrugs. "Stab Gale Weathers; stab Mindy on the train. That sort of thing."

Bailey agrees, placing one palm on either of his children's shoulders to show his pride in them. "Yep, and I just made sure I was first on the scene so I could switch her body out with a fresh one. A little fake blood, a prosthetic. You'd be amazed at what a grieving father can get away with."

Both Ethan and Quinn leave their father's side, going the opposite direction from the other. Marjorie's terrified gaze follows her boyfriend's figure, watching as he places Nancy Loomis's mask over the mannequin with a bloodied suit that belonged to the woman.

Her chest heaves, and she struggles to steady her breathing when his eyes finally meet hers. There's no gentleness behind them anymore — no remorse, no admiration. Nothing. Marjorie can hardly recognize the person in front of her.

"I got Stu Macher's mask," Quinn tells them. "He was my favorite."

"That's number three," Bailey states, holding his fingers up in count. "That's two. Which leaves..." He takes out another Ghostface mask out from inside his jacket, this one being the most beat and old looking out of the rest. "Your father's. This is what we've been counting down to, Sam. I'm gonna need you to put it on."

Marjorie's eyes flicker between the detective and Sam, whose expression is filled with rage. Sam uses the block in her hand to knock the mask out of Bailey's grasp, "Fuck you!"

Ethan, who had been leaning forward on one of the glass cases, reaches over the table and cuts his knife over Sam's bicep. He taunts them with an, "Ooh!" while moving to trap them once more alongside Quinn.

"You stay the fuck away from her!" Tara yells at him as her sister clutches the wound on her arm. Marjorie briefly peers over at the wound, seeing how much blood pours out and onto Sam's hand and wrist.

Sam whirls around to face Bailey. "What—What is this? You did this as a family?" she questions.

"Hell yeah, bitch. You should know better than anyone," Quinn replies harshly, stepping closer to the girls as she holds out her blade.

Sam's head whips back and forth between the three killers, evidently confused by Quinn's words. Ethan chuckles out of amusement. "They're still not getting it."

"Look, I don't know what you believe, but I didn't commit those murders in Woodsboro. It wasn't me!"

"Oh, we know that! Of course, you didn't," Bailey waves a dismissive hand. "What, do you think this is based on some bullshit conspiracy theory? Come on. Who do you think started the rumors about you in the first place?"

The man gestures towards Quinn, who proudly raises her hand in confirmation. "Do you know how easy it was to turn Sam from the hero of Woodsboro into the villain? How easy it is to convince the world to believe the worst in people rather than the best?"

"Because it's not enough to just kill someone these days," Ethan puts forth from the other side of his sister. "You have to assassinate their character first. So when Dad here "discovers" your horribly mutilated bodies..."

Quinn swings her knife forward at Tara, who leaps back with a gasp as she bumps into Marjorie. The blonde wraps her fingers around her friend's wrist to support her, refusing to take her eyes off the pair in front of them.

"...posed with Sam wearing her father's mask, he'll say some poor dumb bastard read on the internet that you're the real Ghostface and took matters into their own deluded hands."

Ethan looks absolutely insane with his eerie smile never faltering as he explains their plan. Marjorie scoffs in disbelief.

"Exactly! That's why it's the perfect alibi," Bailey continues. "And all the best lies are based on the truth." When Sam and Tara swivel on their heels to look at him, Bailey uses his index finger to point at the older girl. "And you're a killer— just like your father."

"No, I'm not!" Sam denies the statement with a shriek, and Quinn hurriedly cuts her off.

"Yes, you are, you motherfucker! You killed our brother!" Her voice cracks slightly, and then a loud silence fills the theater as her shouts fade into nothing.

As Marjorie glances between Ethan and Quinn, perplexed by the girl's insinuations towards Sam, her mind starts to connect the dots of everything they've been saying this entire time. Killing as a family; knowing Sam didn't commit any of the murders last year but still accusing her of such. Then, Marjorie remembers that Sam only killed one person that night, and his name was Richie Kirsch.

The blonde looks up with a devastated expression, and Ethan laughs at her. "Look who figured it out," he hums.

"You're fucking insane," Marjorie seethes at him. Ethan doesn't respond to her, though, instead he dismisses her insult and refocuses his attention to Sam.

"What're you talking about?" asks Sam.

"You said your brother died in a car accident," Tara recalls a conversation she had with Quinn from merely two days ago.

"No, no, no." Ethan refutes Tara's words, "He died in Woodsboro— at the hands of your bitch sister."

The Carpenter sisters peer at the other pair of siblings intently, and then Sam spins to look at Bailey again. Her features seem to soften as the realization hits her. "You're Richie's family."

The detective barely manages to hold back his tears, gulping as he nods. "Yeah..."

"Ding-ding-ding-ding!" Ethan abruptly lunges past Marjorie to stab his knife through Sam's shoulder. "Now she's finally starting to get it!"

Tara shoves the surrounding mannequins over, dragging her older sister with her and trying to get away from the killers. "Go, go!"

Quinn races around to corner Sam, while Ethan tries makes his way to Tara. Marjorie, however, quickly swipes the discarded brick off the ground and rushes toward him. She pushes him off balance and farther from Tara, and Marjorie is soon standing back-to-back with her friend. Ethan shakes his head at her, grinning as she takes a defensive stance.

"Now! It wasn't until I saw that photograph of what you'd actually done to him that I knew," Bailey yells at them from his spot in the middle of the shrine. "That I knew you had to fucking die! You had to be punished! Along with anyone else who stands in our way," he directs these words to Marjorie, who shakes her head in response.

Quinn perks up when she sees a certain look on Sam's face. "There she is..." The red-haired girl raises the blade of her weapon to Sam's chin, using it to keep her in place as she circles around her. "There's the fucking killer."

Tara sounds exhausted as she says, "Real great parenting job, by the way."

"Shut your whore fucking mouth!" Quinn shoves the sisters back into the center of aisle, causing Tara to stumble forward.

Marjorie moves to strike Quinn in her skull with the brick, only to be yanked away as an arm wraps around her collarbone. Then Ethan guides them to the main scene, and Marjorie attempts to break free from him. He refuses to relent.

Instead, Ethan drops his forearm from her neck and brings the knife to her throat, keeping it there as he pulls her into his chest and leans close to her ear. Marjorie can feel his breath fan across her skin. "Go ahead, try it again."

"Fuck you," Marjorie spits, writhing against his hold and the blade beneath her chin.

"We already did that, remember?" Ethan reminds her mockingly, to which Marjorie's anger fades momentarily and is replaced by a quiet, strangled cry.

Quinn, standing to their left, smiles at the blonde in a taunting manner. She directs her words towards Marjorie. "I guess you did do stuff, huh?"

Before any of them are able to say more to one another, Bailey begins another monologue. "Have I been a perfect dad? No. Have I maybe overindulged Richie's love of these little movies? Yeah, maybe." He pauses, shrugging lightly. "For me, they're just a little dark. But... Richie really loved them. He loved them! He even made a few of his own. Did you know?"

The man slowly turns to the torn screen behind them, where a video of Richie — clearly during his teen years, as he has yet to grow any facial hair — plays in the background. Bailey chuckles as he walks up the short staircase.

"There's a very special bond between a father and his first son— which is why I helped him build this collection," Bailey motions across the entire room at all of the items and evidence from past Woodsboro cases.

"This was all his?" Sam queries.

"Yes, he's a very passionate collector. And he inspired others. Oh, we had to kill those two wannabe film students because, well, we had to kill you first, Sam. I put the theater in their name, then good old Detective Bailey would've just stumbled on it. But I didn't have to, because, by golly, that Gale Weathers is one hell of a journalist."

Ethan lowers the knife from Marjorie's neck ever so slightly, and she notices how his arm has begun to tremble, possibly from exhaustion? She isn't sure.

"I built a tribute to my son. Which is why this is where you have to die, Sam, surrounded by all the things he loved the most."

"What happens next?" Sam questions, "After you're done with us you, what, you just disappear?"

"No! We gotta hurry over to the hospital to make sure Mindy and Gale don't pull through," Bailey descends down the steps, aiming his gun at the girls. "Because everybody dies, Sam! Everyone who had anything to do with the death of my son suffers and dies."

"Yeah!"

"Fuck yeah, they do!"

Ethan's voice rings directly through Marjorie's ears, and she flinches as the knife almost makes contact with the skin of her throat when his forearm tenses.

"Now, put on the mask," Bailey demands, glancing down at the Ghostface mask that lies just at the woman's feet.

"He was..."—Sam sighs, closing her eyes—"so pathetic."

Bailey scoffs, tilting his head in confusion. "That's not true."

"Yeah, your son," Sam mutters out, lifting her chin higher to emphasize her next words. "He was a man-baby, who made his girlfriend do all the killing."

Marjorie's brows knit together, unsure of whether the mocking words that come out of Sam's mouth are meant to cause the boiling anger in Bailey to spiral further.

"He was a strong, virile young man!" he seethes, practically shaking with rage.

"He was a limp-dick little fuck who cried before I slit this throat."

Quinn raises her arm over her head and charges at Sam, shrieking, "Shut the fuck up!"

Before she's able to reach her, Tara whirls around and swings the brick across Quinn's face, sending the girl to the floor as blood gushes from her teeth (many of which fall out of her mouth). Simultaneously, Sam pushes Bailey's weapon away from her face as more gunshots go off, only not from the detective.

Ethan tosses Marjorie to the side when they turn to find Kirby, still soaked in her own blood, aiming her firearm at Bailey from her spot near the entryway. She manages to hit the man a few times in the chest, and he collapses.

"Guys, come on!" Tara hollers, heading for the ladder that leads to the balcony above.

Marjorie, stumbling as she finds her footing, averts her gaze to find Ethan running at Kirby and tackling her to the ground. He allows her to view the large knife, "Recognize this?"

"Fuck you!" Kirby yells, crying out when he jabs the sharp end into the scar in her stomach.

Sam, rushing past Marjorie and towards the pair, doesn't hesitate to snatch the brick from the blonde's grasp and use it to whack Ethan in the back of the head. He falls to the side and off of Kirby, clasping a hand over his head as he grunts.

"Mars, go! I'll be right there!" Sam instructs, kneeling down to where Kirby lies and pulling the knife out from inside her. When she doesn't hear Marjorie's footsteps, Sam twists her neck to look at her. "Go!"

Marjorie reluctantly obliges, rushing to the ladder and trying to ignore the soreness in her thighs as she climbs. Tara, waiting at the top, extends her hand to Marjorie and helps pull her up and behind the fence.

"Where's Sam?" she asks, searching for her sister.

"She's right behind us."

Just then, Sam scales up the ladder and meets them, wasting no time in ushering them around the many chairs and old plastic covers. Their path is soon blocked by chairs, however, and they are forced to grip onto the railing to prevent themselves from falling over the edge of the balcony as they carefully tread over the short wall.

"Be careful," Tara says until Bailey, somehow recovered from the gunshots, fires a bullet at the girl and causes her to lose her grip on the railing.

"No!" Marjorie shouts, lunging forward to catch her as Sam wraps her hands around Tara's wrist as well. Tara yelps when her fingers slip, but they tighten their hold to keep her from descending. "We got you, it's okay—"

Her words are interrupted when Ethan jumps up and slices his knife at Tara's legs, making them all scream at the close contact. Sam grunts, gritting her teeth while both her and Marjorie use their best efforts to haul Tara back onto the second level. The blood on Sam's arms prevents Tara from getting a good grip, though, and she continues to slip out of their grasp.

Marjorie's stomach drops when Quinn's figure appears in the doorway to the right, her mouth dripping with blood and half her teeth missing. Yet, Quinn displays a threatening grin as she flips the knife in her hand.

"Oh, shit."

"You guys are so fucked now!" Ethan laughs, keeping his own knife in the air in anticipation.

Marjorie sees a discarded gun a few feet away, and Sam seems to notice it as well. Quinn spits out a chunk of her tooth and leaps off a step, gliding the blade across the railing. The metal screeches tauntingly, and Sam's eyes are panicked at the newfound situation: release Tara and grab the gun or keep trying to pull Tara up while Quinn slowly makes her way towards them.

"Let her go, Sam! Come on!"

"Grab the gun," Marjorie breathes out shakily. Sam's head whips over to her, dumbfounded at her instructions. The blonde says her next words carefully, though not loud enough for the killers to overhear. "Give me the knife and get the fucking gun."

Sam hesitantly nods, glancing at her younger sister out of worry. However, she unwraps her hand from Tara's wrist a moment later and takes her father's old knife out from her belt, swiftly passing it over to Marjorie. Then she dives for the firearm, hurriedly raising it to aim at Quinn's head. The red-haired girl is not far from them now.

Marjorie grunts as Tara's full weight begins to tug her arm down, and she tightens her grip on Tara's wrist.

"Mars?" Her voice is horrified, because if either of them move too fast, she'll fall into the blade below them. "Marjorie—"

"I'm gonna let you go," she informs her friend, whose jaw drops in shock. "You have to trust me, okay? You'll be fine, I promise."

Tara's eyes are wide, contemplating whether to give her trust to Marjorie or not. Then she abruptly nods and prepares herself for the drop. Marjorie's fingers unfold from her arm, allowing the Carpenter girl to plummet into the knife waiting for her.

"Gotcha!" Ethan exclaims excitedly, looming over Tara as she winces and clutches the stab wound.

Suddenly, Marjorie jumps over the railing and sends herself flying down at them. Her legs trip at the impact, but she grips the hilt of the blade firmly as she thrusts it into Ethan's torso. The boy shouts, staggering away from her and Tara as they both hastily remove their knives from the other. Marjorie breathes heavily, briefly looking over her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" she asks Tara, who resists the desperate need to double over in agony. "Tara?"

"Yeah, I'm good," the girl groans.

Marjorie nods, stepping away from her friend and closer to Ethan. Her boyfriend pants wildly, eyes crazed as he stares at her with a grin. "What now, are you gonna kill me?"

"Not yet," Marjorie tells him. Without giving him a chance to reply, she sprints around the shrine and to the next room, leaving him to follow suit.

She hurries past the gate and into the concession room, where Chad's unmoving body still lies on the ground. A dull pain hits Marjorie's chest at the sight, but she doesn't have time to process it as the lights on the ceiling flicker before shutting off completely.

Then Marjorie realizes that she never heard Ethan's footsteps enter the room with her.