Change Of Plans- Amber's POV

                                    

                                          
I can hear Richie dragging the bodies into place in the kitchen, staging them around the house like we planned. 
   "One...two...three- Amber, did you get the others? I got Sid, Sam and Gale here in the kitchen," he yells walking into the living room, I'm hunched over on the floor moving Mindy.
   "That's only seven," he says standing with his hands on his hips.
   "What?" I've barely been registering anything he's saying. This is such a mess, god why did I even do this? All it did was hurt Evie and bloody my fucking house- and- they were my friends too, man. They were my friends too. No. It's already done. Don't cry now, it's already done. This is gonna be such a good fucking movie, yeah. It was for the movie. I stand up, out of breath from moving everyone around, fuck, I'm gonna be sore tomorrow. 
   "That's only seven people, I got Sid, Sam and Gale. You have Tara, those two and the redhead- pink head?" He tilts his head in confusion, "That makes seven."
   "Yeah I passed first grade, I know three and four make seven, genius." I squint my eyes at him, does he really think I'm fucking stupid?
   "Then you also know that there's one missing in order to make eight, genius." he tilts his head, mocking me. 
   "I told you, she's off limits." I turn away from him, we'd only talked about this a hundred fucking times.
   "We can't have any witnesses, that's like the whole point of this, Freeman." I could hear the smug smile on his stupid face. 
   "Don't fucking call me that." I step to him, who does he think he is? I'm the one who did all the fucking work, he didn't do shit but sit on his ass making fake googly eyes at Sam. 
   "I'm not getting arrested and tried just because you weren't cold enough to kill your own girlfriend."
Asshole.
   "There's no reason to, she's knocked out anyways." I walk over and grab the gun from the coffee table.
   "How do you know that? For all I know, she could be awake and listening, pretending to be knocked out, huh?"
   "She's out, okay? I crushed a sleeping pill and slipped it to her just a little before you got here. She's not waking up until we want her to." I say, talking over my shoulder. I can't believe he's doing this right now, we just murdered Sidney fucking Prescott and he wants to whine about my girlfriend? God, he's a fucking manchild.
   "I don't care if she's fucking comatose, we're not taking any risks. Give me the gun." he raises his voice. 
   "Hey, we made this clear before we even started okay? Don't try and start new shit just because you're paranoid now." I turn around to him fully now. He sighs and brushes his palm over his face,
"This is what I get for recruiting a teenage fucking girl." 
he lunges at me, grabbing my arm and pushing me onto the couch. Goddamn it, he's gonna ruin everything! I try and slip away from him but he's too fucking tall, I realize I can't get the upper hand and stomp on his foot, making him falter long enough for me to push him off and stand up. I try to get across the room, but he hooks his arm around my neck from behind. I push my hand with the gun out as far as I can, trying to make it harder for him to reach. He extends his arm the same, which is longer than mine, and yanks the gun out of my hand. I try to cling on to it but it's no use, so I elbow him in the face as soon as I let go and turn around to knee him, but he's got a handful of my hair in a fist, he pulls me back and slams my head into the wall. I stand there for a second, waves of pain hit me immediately and I grab my throbbing head, my eyes closed tight to try and soften the blow but it's not working. I can hear Richie walking around the corner to the closet he knew I'd hidden Tara in, assuming I did the same with Evie- he's right. Shit, he's right. I stand up, my vision blurry and I can barely walk straight, I need to get to Evie, I need to get to Evie, shit. I catch a glimpse of a knife on the couch, grab it and cling to the wall for support, rounding the corner to find him aiming the gun into the open closet. Fucking weasel, I should've known he would try to pull this shit, especially after the hospital attack. I can blurrily make out his fingers cocking the gun and moving to the trigger, I throw myself at him and slam the knife into his throat. He immediately falls over, the gun clattering on the floor. He grabs at his neck with his hands as the knife sticks out, blood pours from his wound. I stand over his body, watching him fall and squirm like a bug under my shoe. I watch the life from him fade,
   "Now, there's eight." 
I spit on him, what a lousy excuse for a ghostface. At least Sam acted like she had the balls to do this. I push his legs out of the way and kneel down to Evie. I lean my head against the door frame in pain, its still throbbing- i'm pretty sure i'm fucking concussed. I finally focus my eyes and see Evie's face leaned up against the wall in the dark. I reach out and carefully remove the tape from her mouth and arms- being extra careful with her cast- and tossing it across the floor. Her features look like they've been carved from marble, she always looks pretty when she sleeps. I can't help myself, I reach out and the loose strands of dark brown hair out of her face and behind her ear, the blood on my hand plaguing her soft brown skin. I watch her sleep. Nothing can rip me away from the hold her serene state has me in, not my head, not Richie, nothing. I sit, admiring her as long as I can before my own thoughts reel me back in. I groan and reach over to grab the gun and get back up, I have to stage my injuries. Fuck. (Jill Roberts activities LOL) I stumble into the kitchen and rip a small hand towel from a rack, stuffing it in my mouth. I shakily but carefully aim the gun at my outer thigh, I just needed something small- I can barely stand my head. I mentally prepare myself before pulling the trigger. White hot pain engulfs my leg, biting down on the towel, I throw the gun across the room as my screams are muted by the cloth in my mouth. 
   "FUCKKK!"
I lean back onto the counter and look up, calming myself down. I then limp back over to Richie, pulling the knife out of his neck and cleaning it off in my shirt- I don't want his blood mixing with mine that's gross. I swiftly stick it into the side of my stomach, a place that won't fatally injure me if I don't go deep enough. I don't even have the energy to scream anymore, I groan and almost fall over before catching myself with my arm against the wall. Pulling the knife out, I collapse on my knees, again in front of Evie sleeping in the closet. A few pained breaths escape me, I reach out and carefully shake Evie awake, planting fake panic and shock onto my face as quickly and effectively as I can, I think my own physical pain is doing the job for me tbh.