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She couldn’t think. There were no coherent thoughts or feelings as she drifted through the cramped halls of the student theatre, sleepwalking back to the dressing room. She held herself as she shakily inhaled and exhaled, willing herself to stop crying. The pain and swelling in her chest refused to cease, growing bigger and fiercer as it consumed her inside out.
No more tears, she had told herself when this year began. She wasn’t going to be a victim anymore. She wasn’t going to allow what had happened to her to continue to engulf her; define her forever. She had been the girl who cried wolf; the daughter of Woodsboro’s chief mistress; the Final Girl.
All she wanted to be was Sidney Prescott — just Sid.
Was that too much to ask?
Sidney continued to function on autopilot mode as she entered the room, the door falling shut behind her without closing all the way. She looked up and found herself face to face with her blotchy, messy appearance reflected in the mirror, illuminated and glowing with the bright, white bulbs framing the edge. Her makeup was now more depressed goth rather than airbrushed, stone-like Greek goddess with the way her eyes were smudged and eyeliner tracked down her cheeks in grey streaks. She hiccuped on a sob as she hastily grabbed a fistful of tissues, wiping and dabbing at her wet face. She sat down on the bench lining the wall, holding her face in her hands and allowing it to all be soaked up by the tissues.
She wept quietly, keeping her sniffling to a minimum in case of any loitering classmates. Everyone was already wary of her with the on-campus killings, being forced to relive all of her senior-year trauma. She didn’t need her private emotions joining the grapevine, although her public outburst had likely secured that for her already.
“Sid?” She looked up to discover Randy standing in the doorway, hands in pockets and a look of concern splattered on his face. Her lip quivered, and more tears fell down her face. “Oh… come here, Sid,” he soothed, closing the door behind him and quickly coming to her aid. He sat next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and bringing her in close. She buried herself into his embrace, sobbing into his shoulder as he moulded around her, whispering reassurances in her ear.
His heart clenched horribly, feeling heartbroken at the sight of her like this. He hated it when she was upset. He couldn’t help but feel her pain and gain a sense of helplessness when he couldn’t do anything for her.
“What’s happened, hey?” Randy cooed gently, rubbing Sidney’s back. She lifted her head and wiped away a few stray tears. She shook her head and sighed softly, pinching the bridge of her nose between her brow.
“It’s stupid. We were rehearsing the attack scene and… I saw him in the masks. Taunting me; stalking me,” she whispered, staring off into the distance. He didn’t need to clarify what she meant by ‘him’ — he understood immediately. He drew his lips together into a thin line, considering his words as he gazed at his friend.
“That’s not stupid, Sid. You’re a survivor of spree killings that involved stabbings, and now some dickweed is deciding to play copycat. I would be concerned if pretending to be attacked with knives didn’t trigger you in some way,” he argued, just the slightest essence of humour in his tone. He wanted to make her smile, even laugh a little. That’s all he ever wanted to do. But she still looked distant and hurt in her eyes, and hoping to comfort her as best as he could, he gently held her hand.
“Was it just that?” he guessed, sensing it wasn’t just the theatre that was gnawing away at her. In the months between that last attacks and the current ones, he’d watched Sidney become a stone-cold, hard bitch who laughed in the faces of people who tried to scare her by using her trauma. She wasn’t that easy to break, he thought.
She paused, rolling her lips together and inside her mouth before a shaky sigh escaped her. “Derek showed up immediately after, and… it reminded me of Billy.”
Randy didn’t like to be reminded of the past. After all, he was hoping that college would allow him to move away from his survivor legacy and just be Randy. Ghostface who? What gunshot scar?
But for her, he would relive it all again.
“I can only imagine what you’re feeling, Sid,” Randy murmured, running his thumb over the veins and tendrils of her hand. Her hand was dainty and thin, her skin smooth and porcelain. So many small, little details embedded in her flesh. He’d always thought her hands were beautiful, even if it kinda made him feel like Buffalo Bill for thinking that way. “I’m guessing you told him to fuck off?”
She cracked a little grin at that, even if it was ridden with guilt. “Yeah. Told him I wanted some space… and not just for today.”
Randy quirked a brow, and he didn’t deny the slight skip in his now quickening heartbeat. Of course he was here for Sidney as a friend right now, but he couldn’t exactly shut off his emotions either. A chance to step in, get Sidney and toss that walking Ralph Lauren advertisement to the curb? How couldn’t he get a little eager? He’d been waiting for this moment since freshman year of high school.
“And how’d he react?” he questioned, squeezing her hand.
“Wasn’t pleased, but he didn’t fight me either. Sort of acted like a disappointed father,” she answered, flicking her gaze to Randy. His eyes were firmly fixed on her — a sight she had become accustomed to since they first met, really. He always stared at her like she was a mint-condition copy of some rare film, as though he was Indiana Jones and she was the golden totem. Even though she’d had her boyfriends and quietly kept Randy in the realm of friendship, she didn’t deny the fact that when he looked at her like that, it always made her feel seen and special. “I’d say he’s probably a bit pissed off,” she added, fiddling with the red dress wrapped around her.
“What for? Sure, you and Mister Dudley Do-Right might have been going nice and steady for the last few months, but you’re sort of in the pits right now. How can he blame you for not wanting to worry about being in a relationship right now?” Randy protested passionately, disgust on his face.
Sidney nibbled on her lower lip, the tears pricking again as she glanced into her lap. She cradled her hands as she gathered the courage to admit to Randy what a horrible person she was. A manipulative woman. “He felt like I wasn’t giving him a choice.”
“He doesn’t have one,” Randy replied, surprising her. She glanced up with a perplexed expression, staring into his soft, understanding gaze. “If you want space and time, you’re entitled to it. You don’t need his permission,” he affirmed.
“I…” she began, but quickly lost her words.
“Derek doesn’t deserve you,” Randy interjected. She paused, looking at her friend. He was a bit nervous — scared, really — but he persevered. “If he can’t respect your autonomy, then he doesn’t deserve you,” he repeated, widening his eyes for emphasis. Sidney couldn’t help but smile a little.
“Then who does?” she asked, feeling as though no one deserved her because she deserved no one.
Randy considered his words for a moment. “Someone who loves you for who you really are, Sid, and cherishes you every second of every day.”
Sidney was at a loss for words. His answer was simple — a no-brainer, quite honestly — but she couldn’t help but feel captivated; crave what he was claiming. She opened her mouth as her brain started to move, feeling bold in this moment of intimacy and deciding, well, fuck it — they’d spent long enough dancing around things, hadn’t they? He’d practically confessed to her. Why shouldn’t they give things a go?
But he stopped her before a single breath could even escape her.
“I gotta go meet with Gale and Dewey, but maybe we could go for burgers or something tonight; to take your mind off of things,” he suggested with a gentle smile. She sniffled as she smiled and nodded, sweeping away the last few tears bunched up around her eyes.
“I’d like that,” she agreed with a little laugh. Randy pondered for a second before pulling her into a hug, squeezing her tight. She sighed, cozying up against his shoulder for a moment. Randy quietly savoured the gesture, knowing perfectly well it would probably be the only sliver of intimacy Sidney Prescott would ever bestow to him.
“Everything’s gonna be alright, Sid,” he assured her, murmuring softly into her ear. “There will always be copycats; psychos who can’t separate fact from fiction; assholes who think they’re entitled to our personal lives… but we’ll always have each other, and we’re not going down without a fight, aren’t we?”
“No,” she confirmed, clutching onto him. He pulled back and beamed at her, smoothing down some of her messed-up hair.
“There’s the Sidney Prescott I know,” he declared. He stood to his feet, giving Sid’s hand one more squeeze before letting it go. “I’ll come by your dorm after this little Scooby Doo meeting ends, alright? Dinner will be on me,” he insisted, and he gave her a look that said, ‘Don’t protest’.
“Okay,” she agreed.
After a moment of hesitation, he leaned over and placed a chaste kiss to the top of her head, fighting the urge to blush and stammer. “I’ll see you later, Sid.”
“Bye,” she murmured softly, keeping her eyes directed at her lap to hide her own state of overwhelm. He grinned and turned away, pushing open and walking out the door before tucking his hands away in his pockets. His stomach twisted and fluttered, his knees weak and wobbly.
Perhaps Sidney Prescott would finally be mine, he thought.