Chapter Text
They did it.
Holy shit, they really did it.
“Come on, Stu, you can hold on a little longer.”
Sidney Prescott was dead. So was officer Dwight, Tatum, Randy, even that bitch Weathers. They did it all by themselves, from start to finish.
Now they only needed their final lie to go through.
“The police are on their way, Stu, everything’s ready. Don’t give up on me now.’
He could faintly hear said police cars in the distance. Although it may as well just have been his ears ringing at the highest possible volume, he couldn’t tell. He could hear Billy, but he could barely make out the words. He saw the outline of his face above him, and he figured he was still laying on the floor, held by Loomis so that he doesn’t completely doze off.
The last thing he heard was his front door getting kicked down, or so he thought. He might’ve been wrong. More voices filled the room, and that’s where everything went blank.
He could’ve died back there, and considering how many open wounds he had, he should’ve. But as long as their plan worked, making the two of them out to be the “heroes” and “victims” of the biggest Woodsboro massacre, he’d probably be okay with that.
And if it was just Billy, carrying on the memory of his brutally murdered best friend while no one would’ve ever figured out they were actually the masterminds, he’d be fine with it too.
But he liked his version of the future with both of them in it much better. In the last moments of his consciousness, he had time to hope for just a little more time.
He left far too many things unsaid and feelings hidden.