HAUNTED

____________

THE POLICE ARRIVED an hour after the events in the apartment, an ambulance following suit as many of the officers' vehicles parked in front of the complex. They found Anika's body straight away.

It's been eight hours since then, and Marjorie now sits in between Mindy and Tara at the back of the ambulance, all three of them still as statues while their gazes have nothing but grief behind them. The paramedics wrapped Mindy's arm earlier, and disinfected and bandaged Marjorie's thigh. Blood soaks through the gauzes.

Chad stands by Mindy, leaning his shoulder against the car door and watching his friends sympathetically. Meanwhile, Sam is near the gate to the alleyway as she stares at the covered corpse of their friend. Her eyes are full of guilt.

The sight of a curly haired boy ducking under the yellow caution tape is enough to make Marjorie snap out of her trance. She breathes in sharply, preparing herself for the worst.

"Chad..." Ethan says, glancing at the three girls and the rest of the crime scene.

The athlete clenches his jaw, pushing off of the door and storming over to Ethan. He grabs him by the collar of his shirt and throws him against a black police van, surprising the boy greatly. "Where were you?"

"What? When?" Ethan exclaims.

Chad shoves him against the window again. "Last night!"

"What? I—I had Econ, you know this!"

"Bullshit, man! You disappear, and my sister almost gets killed!"

"Dude, I was in a study hall with a hundred other people. You can ask any of them." Ethan shows the palms of his hands in surrender, trying to convince his best friend of his innocence.

Chad hesitates before pushing him one last time, swearing under his breath and releasing his collar. "Fuck, man."

Ethan's head turns to look at the dumpsters, his features faltering at the sight of the body bag. "Oh, my God," his mouth slightly gapes in shock. "Who?"

"Anika and Quinn," Chad informs, stepping away and returning to his twin's side.

Ethan walks toward the ambulance, shaking his head in disbelief as he speaks to the girl. "Mindy, I'm so sorry."

"Step the fuck back." She snaps, glaring at him with no remorse in her eyes. "You're at the top of my list."

"I had Econ!" he asserts once more, desperate for somebody, anybody, to believe him. Ethan looks to Marjorie, and she only meets his gaze for a second before turning away.

The girl needs comfort — his comfort — but everyone around them is keeping her from accepting it.

Tara sees Quinn's father, Detective Bailey, walking out of the alley and over to Sam. She excuses herself to Mindy and Chad, and approaches her sister and him. He wipes his tears as he stumbles slightly until he meets Sam and Tara at the opening.

Marjorie runs her hands over her face gently. Her tears have dried, while her mascara and eyeliner lightly smudge the areas surrounding her eyes. The only physical injury that is visible now is the gash on her leg, which still stings in pain.

"When is this shit going to be over?" She questions to no one in particular, merely wanting to voice her never-ending thought.

Mindy shrugs carelessly, too numb to feel anything for her friend. Marjorie can't blame her either, as she understands the affliction that Mindy must be feeling right now. But neither of them can offer any words of comfort or assurance to each other regardless of the fact that they both loved and cared for Anika.

They're grieving in silence, and they'd rather do it separately than together.

____________

"Jason and Greg were little Atlanta rich boys," Gale Weathers, a journalist and former survivor of previous Woodsboro murders, states as she leads the group down an unsettling alleyway. "Apparently, they used fake names to rent this place."

They pass by a mural of Ghostface that has been spray painted on a brick wall. The famous line, "What's your favorite scary movie?" has been written underneath it. The art piece makes Marjorie's stomach curl, and it only intensifies her desperation of wanting to change out of her blood-stained clothes and scrub away all the memories of last night.

The memories of how satisfied Ghostface seemed after watching Anika plummet to the ground and bleed to death.

She must've recoiled or flinched, because Ethan — walking side by side with her at the back of the line — looks down at her with a soft gaze. "You okay?"

Marjorie tries to ignore him, instead focusing on the slight limp on her left leg as she continues to take long strides to keep up with the others. However, when Ethan attempts to carefully grasp her forearm, she yanks away and shakes her head. "Stop," Marjorie says in a whisper, gesturing with her eyes to the people in front of them.

"Oh," he murmurs. "Sorry, I—"

Before the boy is able to finish his apology, Kirby Reed (another former Woodsboro survivor and current FBI agent) and Gale exchange inquiries.

"How did you find it?" Kirby asks, referring to the building they're heading towards.

"It's called "investigative journalism" for a reason. How didn't you find it? Weren't you tracking them?"

"I went through their financial records dozens of times. This was not in any of them," the thirty-year-old tells her. "Doesn't make sense."

"Don't worry," Gale feigns sympathy for the younger woman. "I'm just really good at my job. You'll get there." She confidently walks to the doors, swiping a keycard that beeps as it unlocks.

They go up a flight of stairs, Marjorie having to hold on to the railing on the sides to keep herself steady, before reaching a gate, which Gale has to unlock as well. It creaks open, and the teenagers cautiously enter after the adults.

"What is this place? What's with all the security?" Sam questions, checking her surroundings even though everything around them is currently pitch black.

Gale flips on the electricity, and the lights shine through the building. Tara recognizes the setting almost immediately. "It's a movie theater."

"It's not just a theater: it's a shrine." Gale corrects  the girl, and the curtain to the stage rises up to reveal nine black cloaks draped over mannequins.

Everything else below the stage are items that Jason and Greg must've collected over the years, many centering on the past Woodsboro victims or killers. The group spreads out, each person searching for something related to themselves or their experiences.

"They've got the whole goddamn franchise," Mindy's voice echos off the walls. She quietly calls her brother over when she comes across a shirt that had belonged to their uncle, Randy.

As Marjorie wanders the shrine, peering through the display cases and at other mannequins that surround them, Ethan trails behind her quietly and observes the way she looks at everything around them. "This must've cost them their college funds," she mutters, gently dragging her fingertips over the glass.

Her body freezes at the next display, and Marjorie swears she can feel her heart stop beating for a moment. Images of Wes Hicks are propped up beside photos of Amber Freeman, two of her closest friends from the previous year.

Her heart aches at the sight of Wes's face, his bright smile reflecting back at her as tears well in her eyes. The crippling feeling in her gut never goes away whenever she thinks about her childhood friend. She misses him more than anything.

She wonders what he would say to her if he were here right now, if he had made it through the massacre and to New York like they planned with the rest of their friends. Almost everything in the city reminds Marjorie of Wes, because they planned to go to these places together.

Then Marjorie's gaze finds its way to the bloodied knife that gave her the scars on her ribs and lower abdomen. Nobody bothered to clean the sharp end of the blade. Her hand absentmindedly caresses the fabric where the marked skin lies beneath.

The memory of Amber digging the weapon into Marjorie's abdomen will always be buried in her mind whether she wants it to be or not, and yet she won't ever be able to completely hate her.

Part of Marjorie will forever be attached to the Amber that made her feel loved. The Amber that gave her reassurance when she felt self-conscious or uncomfortable. The Amber that was sweet to her no matter how many bad days she was having. The Amber that existed before she met Richie Kirsch.

"You all have been through so much," Bailey says to everyone in the room.

"Hey, how'd they get all this stuff?" Tara asks. "I mean, isn't this evidence?"

"Well, cops like money, and evidence can get lost pretty easily." Gale motions to the current law enforcement officials, "Present company excluded, of course."

"Um, why am I here exactly? My alibi checks out," Ethan says to Chad and Mindy.

Marjorie turns slowly, looking at him directly for the first time since this morning at the apartments. Why is he here?

"So I can keep an eye on you, roomie." Chad responds with a sarcastic grin, while Mindy uses two of her fingers to point from her eyes to Ethan's, squinting at him.

Marjorie processes the fact that Ethan could very well be the killer. He wasn't with them last night at the apartment, and even though he claims to have been at Econ, they haven't thoroughly checked his alibi. All of the facts are lined out perfectly for her to see. But could he really be capable of killing someone? Of killing Anika?

She thinks of all the times that she's spent with him within the past four months. She thinks about the little interactions they had from the first few weeks of them meeting. She thinks about every kiss they've shared, no matter how much regret and self-loathing she would feel afterwards.

She thinks about how Ethan has always been gentle with her, even when she retaliates with hostility and rage. He's never raised his voice towards her or forced her to explain herself to him. He's just been there for her.

How could Marjorie believe he's the killer?

Gale goes on to explain how the current Ghostface killer has gained access to the shrine, but Sam doesn't seem to be listening as she walks up the steps to the stage. The woman heads straight to Billy Loomis's robe, which is the only mannequin trapped in a glass container.

His costume is considered to be worth the most, as he was the first and original Ghostface.

Nobody pays her much attention other than Tara, and eventually they all find their ways in front of one of the figures. Marjorie stands in front of Amber's cloak, and Ethan in front of Richie Kirsch's. The boy's brows are knitted together as he reads the names at the bottom of the stands.

"So, somebody killed these chucklefucks and... took over?" Chad queries as he stands beside Gale.

"Someone who believes that Sam masterminded Woodsboro," she clarifies.

Mindy crosses her arms. "If this were a normal Stab movie, this would be the killer's lair," she states regretfully.

"Which means this isn't a normal Stab movie," Kirby adds.

A tense atmosphere overtakes the stage, most of the Woodsboro survivors glancing at one another in silence. Tara, her breath beginning to tremble, releases a quiver of anxiety before she rushes down the stairs and into another room. Sam chases after her sister in a hurry, leaving everyone else to split into their own pairs.

Kirby and Mindy dangle their legs over the edge of the platform, staring at the TV that electrocuted and killed Stu Macher almost twenty-six years ago. They quiz each other on their horror movie knowledge.

Chad and Gale, an unlikely duo, somehow start up a conversation about their loved ones— and the losses of such. Gale lost Dewey Riley, her ex-husband and the former Sheriff of Woodsboro, last year to Amber Freeman, and Chad lost his girlfriend, Liv McKenzie.

Ethan and Marjorie, however, have yet to move from their places on the stage. Ethan hasn't walked away because she hasn't, as her eyes are still locked on to the two mannequins. He hesitantly says, "Are these...?"

"Yeah," Marjorie whispers. A single tear rolls down her cheek and she quickly wipes it with her palm.

The blonde-haired girl turns to focus on Ethan instead of the black cloaks, blinking to clear the wetness that clouds her vision. His gaze softens, his mouth parted slightly. "Are you okay?"

"No," Marjorie moves her head back and forth, inhaling sharply as her lip trembles. "No, I'm not." Her voice is as low as a mutter as she admits the mournful truth.