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“Why—” Sidney choked out a sob, balling her fist and bringing it down hard on the countertop beside her. Sick, red blood marked the place her hand had landed. “Why did you kill my mother?”
In that moment, Sidney Prescott wanted nothing more than to be held. Comforted. Protected. She wanted answers — but above all, she wanted out.
A night that had begun as a party to ease the tensions rising in their town was quickly coming to a close, turning into a massacre. Sidney was alone in a house filled with bodies, cornered by her only company: the two people who’d made the bodies drop. Stu Macher, the sick bastard who’d tricked so many teenagers into locking themselves in his slaughterhouse, grinned at her, obviously tracking every tear that ran down her cheeks and mingled with the blood that coated her face. His glee horrified her, shining brightly from behind the darkened form of Billy Loomis, the first boy she’d ever slept with — not even twenty minutes ago.
Billy tilted his head, smirk dropping away as his vision cut into her with a gruesomely attentive stare. “Why?” he repeated, voice soft. Then it changed, loud and dangerous and so, so angry. “Why?”
In unison, both Sidney and Stu jumped, flinching back from Billy on either side. Sidney herself was pressed close against the countertop behind her, as though it could somehow pull her away from the horrors walling her in. Stu, however, had been pressed into Billy’s back, chin resting on his shoulder as he showed Sidney all the teeth he could. If Sidney had been in a more aware state, a less terrified condition, she might have noticed how his hands had jerked away from where they’d been on Billy’s waist just moments before.
Billy’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer, a dark sort of hunger hanging in them. One that she had seen before, and mistaken for attraction. He turned away from her then, angling his body to set his sights on the boy behind him. “You hear that Stu?” he asked, words fleeing his mouth quickly. “I think she wants a motive.”
Stu chuckled in response, and Sidney finally let her eyes wander to score him over. He kept his eyes trained on Billy, as if he was reading him like a book, gauging his reactions and keeping score. Billy was a grenade, it seemed. The sand was spilling, the pin had been pulled. But it was anyone’s guess as to who would be standing too close when he exploded into flames and shrapnel.
“Hm,” Sidney’s eyes snapped back to Billy as his voice cut through the silence again, steady and calm. “Well, I don’t really believe in motives, Sid. I mean, did Norman Bates have a motive?”
Sidney ground her jaw. She didn’t know. Of course she didn’t know — Billy knew she didn’t like horror movies. Somehow, though, she felt as though the question wasn’t for her.
As if on cue, Stu raised a finger, idly stepping backwards and beginning to turn. Not to run, but maybe to show Sidney that he had the power. He could run if he wanted to. He just didn’t want to.
“Nope,” he answered, and this time she noticed how Billy’s lips quirked upwards, gruesomely pleased.
“Did they ever really decide why Hannibal Lecter liked to eat people?” Suddenly, Billy lunged forward at her, teeth bared. “Don’t think so.”
Sidney flinched, and felt her anger grow hot in her throat. Fuck you, fuck you you sick bastard. He was so darkly giddy at the fear she had for him now, like this was the one thing he’d always wanted. She supposed it was, really.
Billy raised the knife — she’d almost forgotten it was there. He alone was a knife now, a second weapon poised to bite into her throat. She shuddered, tilting her chin up in the slightest to inch away from the blade without cowering backwards more.
“See, it’s a lot scarier when there’s no motive, Sid.” She could feel the heat of his breath on her face, a total juxtaposition to how she’d felt it earlier, when he was kissing her and mixing their air in a sort of empty promise.
She should’ve known. She should’ve fucking known. That sex had been terrible, anyhow. Tatum would have been disappointed.
Tatum.
Billy moved the knife closer, the blade glinting in the overhead kitchen lights. “We did your mom a favor, Sid,” he snarled. “That woman was a slutbag whore who flashed her shit all over town like she was Sharon Stone, or something.”
“Yeah, we put her out of her misery,” Stu’s voice cut in, drifting over Billy’s shoulder, pulling Sid’s eyes over to lock onto his. “‘Cause let’s face it, Sidney: your mother was no Sharon Stone.”
Stu grinned, the gun he’d been holding still in hand. He cradled it pointedly, the barrel aimed right at her face.
In that moment, they both looked like little boys playing with daddy’s hunting gear. This was a game to them, they didn’t know what they were doing. They couldn’t. They’d been her friends.
They’d been…
Sidney turned away, shutting her eyes. Her blind rage began to ebb, to mingle with a deep misery. Betrayal. She’d been betrayed. So many people had been killed, and according to them, it was all because her mother had been adulterous.
Sidney was going to die tonight.
Sidney Prescott wasn't going to live to be eighteen. She would never graduate, never see the stage and wear the cap and gown. It was fitting. People had always said she looked like her mother.
She heard a click, like metal tapping bone. She opened her eyes to find Billy with the tip of the knife in his mouth, cushioned by his bottom lip. It was lewd, almost — tongue pressing against the very point. Supposed to be seductive maybe. With the blade in his mouth like that, he looked like a faggot.
“Is that motive enough for you?” he asked, watching her with low-lidded eyes. He pulled the knife from his mouth and pointed it at her again, this time far, far more steadily. “Well, how ‘bout this…”
His voice dropped to nearly a whisper — one of the loudest whispers she’d ever heard in her life. Rich with pain, and pent up anger, and potent hatred.
“Your…” he started, eyes searing holes in her own. “Slut mother was fucking my father,” He inhaled, voice quavering, “And she’s the reason my mom moved out and abandoned me.”
Sidney’s heart dropped.
Her eyes widened, staring right back into Billy’s, which were filling with unshod tears. A younger Billy Loomis — one she’d never seen before — flashed in her mind. A sad, confused little boy who was holding a knife he didn’t know how to wield. A teenage boy who wept and pleaded for his mother not to go, begged her to take him with her.
One who wanted nothing more than to slaughter every single member of the family of the woman who’d ruined his life.
But hadn’t his father done that? Wasn’t it equally his father’s choice? Why didn’t he hate him? Maybe he did, but then why did he have the knife aimed at Sidney’s throat and not his dad’s?
Sidney’s eyes flicked to Stu, only to find that his face was slack with surprise. Had he not known? Was that not his motive, then?
No, on second thought, he didn’t look blindsided. Stu looked shocked that Billy had said it aloud, not that he’d said it at all. He knew, he must’ve.
But if that was true, that meant that Stu himself had no real motive. No connection, no reason to murder her mother in cold blood. Was it for fun? Had he done it just to kill Casey down the line?
Oh my god, he’d killed Casey. Both her and Steve — and he’d killed Dewey, and that camera guy, and Tatum. Oh god, Tatum. Tatum was dead, and he and Billy had killed her. He’d murdered his own girlfriend.
And Billy wasn’t about to be too far behind.
She looked back to Billy, who’d seemingly composed himself by then. The latter gestured, pointing the knife accusatorily over his shoulder, directly at Stu.
“Maternal abandonment causes serious deviant behavior,” he chided. “Certainly fucked you up, it made you have sex with a psychopath.”
“That’s right,” Stu’s gleeful voice chirped from behind Billy again.
Beneath that glee was something she couldn’t seem to pinpoint, couldn’t put her finger on it. The closest she could get was satisfied, but that didn’t make sense at all. Not with the way his tone lilted, like glass mere moments away from shattering.
Sidney glanced at him as he continued. “You gave it up. Now you’re no longer a virgin.” Mockingly, he began giggling, the high-pitched sound piercing the air like a bullet. “Ooh! Sid’s not a virgin, whoops!”
Billy grabbed Sidney and yanked her into his arms, holding her flush against his chest so tightly she thought his arms might give out. She faced Stu, fighting Billy hard now that she was unshielded by his body. Stu aimed the gun at her threateningly.
“Now you gotta die,” Stu warned, face morphing into an expression so sickeningly innocent that Sidney cringed. “Those are the rules.”
Fuck. Fuck, there had to be a way out of this now. Sidney glanced all around the room, searching for an opportunity, for some semblance of a plan.
“Just pretend it’s all a scary movie, Sid,” Billy offered, voice low. “How do you think it’s gonna end?”
She looked back to Stu just in time to see him shrug, a grin forming.
All of a sudden, Sidney was flying forward, shoved hard from behind by Billy. She stumbled towards the gun Stu was holding, and the panic set in. She stopped herself just short of the gun, stumbling back into her little corner, which was now empty of any sign of Billy. Shit, there went her escape.
Unless…
Billy evened out beside Stu, the two of them staring her down like the way fairytale hunters stare down a beast caught in their nets. Like spiders eyeing a fly in their web. Sidney wouldn’t fight it, refused to twist under the scrutiny and play into their sick fantasy.
“I’ll be right back,” Billy said to Sidney, then looked at Stu.
Something shifted.
The way it felt when their eyes met terrified Sidney in a whole new way. She didn’t know why, or how she was even reacting, but she knew something was strange. Different.
There was something she was missing.
Now, to Stu, he said, “Watch her.”
Stu’s grin crawled higher.
He did not, in fact, watch her. Not right away. Both he and Sidney watched as Billy opened the door behind him and descended into the basement, pointing the knife at her one last time to remind her I’ll kill you if you move. If you even try.
The sick fuck.
She kept very still. Sidney intended to give Stu no reason to glance back at her, to keep his eyes lingering on Billy as long as she’d let him. Even now, when Billy was long gone from the doorway, he watched. Waited.
Sidney had to do something, fast.
“Stu.”
In a moment, he reared his head. His eyes locked onto her and didn’t leave. He was different now, filled with less levity. He didn’t want to share the game with her alone. It was no fun to play without advantage.
He had no motive.
It was all she needed. “Stu, please. Don’t do this,” she begged.
His smile widened, but she wouldn’t let him get a word in. Not yet.
“I know you think this is fun, but it’s not.” Again, she spoke before he could even part his lips. “Not as fun as it could be.”
He seemed intrigued. Curious. “Oh yeah?”
She nodded frantically, swallowing hard. “Yeah,” she insisted. She had his attention now, and she didn’t intend to lose it. “Listen, Stu. I know you don’t want to kill me.”
Stu’s curiosity began to melt back into pure enjoyment — so very entertained. He grinned again, and Sidney panicked.
“You wanna bet?”
Sidney set her jaw, finding the strength to nod. “Yeah, I do,” she retorted. “You don’t have a motive, Stu. I bet you’re just doing this for fun.”
Stu flexed his brows. “Of course I’m doing this for fun.”
“Exactly,” Sidney agreed. “And what would be more fun than a twist ending?”
“A twist ending.”
“A twist ending,” she confirmed. “Every good movie has a twist ending, right?”
Stu said nothing. But Sidney was already on a roll, so she kept going.
“So how about this: in a shocking turn of events, you decide you’re through with being the accomplice.” The title drew an almost unnoticeable reaction from him, one of plausible incredulity. Perfect. “So when your partner in crime comes back to the scene to end the movie, you kill him. Shoot him dead. Then you let me go, and we let Billy take the blame. I’ll testify, say you’re innocent. But really, I’ll know.” Though her hands were shaking, she couldn’t stop and fear him now. “I’ll know you were the real genius all along. The mastermind.”
Stu tilted his head, just the slightest bit. A small huff of laughter escaped him. “Why would I let you go?”
Sidney swallowed around the lump forming in her throat. “Because it’s what Tatum would’ve wanted.”
A demented gleam took hold in Stu’s eyes. His smile was smaller now, like he was really thinking. Sidney inhaled, hoping to quell her excitement, but it only swelled. She could do this. She had a real chance now.
And then—
“I don’t care.”
Stu giggled, watching her unblinkingly. Her heart plummeted, eyes widening. Sidney would’ve gasped if she weren’t covered in her own blood. Blood that Stu himself had drawn.
“What?”
“I don’t care about Tatum,” Stu laughed. “Or about taking credit. Why would I care about any of that?”
Any of that. Tatum, her mother, everybody being reduced to that without a second thought sent a stab through her heart far more painful than the wounds she had already. Sidney felt tears begin to well up in her eyes again, the fear clotting in her throat getting worse.
“You…”
Stu shrugged. “I don’t care.”
Sidney’s breathing quickened. No, it couldn’t end here. She wouldn’t let it.
“What’s your motive, Stu?” she cried out, desperate. “Why even go through with this? Why did you and Billy kill my mother?” A tear fell, and she let it drop. “What’s in it for you?”
Stu was more still than she’d ever seen him. “We told you, motives are incidental.”
“No, Billy told me that!” Sidney snapped, knuckles whitening as her grip turned in on itself. “But he has a motive. Everyone has a motive! If you’re not doing it for credit, if you never cared about any of us at all, then why—” her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “Why do any of this at all?”
He didn’t say anything for a long while. The silence rang out through the house, the whole first floor deathly quiet. For a moment, it really looked like he was considering her words.
Once again, there was an expression on his face that she couldn’t name. It was newer now, not like when he’d revoked her virgin title, or when he’d listened to her barter with him. But she’d seen it before. She remembered it: it was the look he’d worn when he’d looked at Billy, and Billy had looked back. He almost seemed… lost in his thoughts. Concentrated in a much softer way.
“Because he wanted me to.”
If Sidney had any room to step back, she would’ve. “What?”
Stu looked back to her — the trance not yet broken, but his mind a little clearer. More sure of what he was saying.
“If you want my motive, look at Billy,” Stu said. “He can tell you what it is.”
Sidney was in pure disbelief. “So, what- you don’t have a motive at all?” she managed, utterly dumbfounded.
Stu smiled again, slower this time. Then he raised his brows expectantly.
And Sidney realized.
If you want my motive, look at Billy.
Oh my god.
“You’re in love with him?” Sidney breathed.
Suddenly, it all made sense. The way his voice had lilted, the looks he gave her. Jealousy, possessiveness. Satisfaction, because she’d slept with Billy and now she was going to die for it.
His smile was soft, whether or not he meant for it to be. She shook her head.
“Does he know?”
That very same smile only grew. “You gave it up to him,” he replied. “But he didn’t give it up to you.”
Oh my god.
“So… so you’re—”
“What’s the matter?” Stu asked. “You mad you gave it up to a fag?”
Sidney shook her head. She couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true.
“Hey, I mean, it’s only fair.” Stu shrugged. “You go after him, and I go after Tate, right?”
She whirled on him, eyes flashing. “She loved you.”
“Yeah,” Stu grinned. “Wanna know how it felt?”
Sidney could’ve gagged. She could’ve cried. She was overwhelmed with repulsion, with fury, with misery. How could he care so little about it all? How did he live with himself?
She balled her fists so tightly she drew blood. “He’s manipulating you,” she managed, voice trembling. “He doesn’t love you at all. He’s just giving you what he wants so he can use you.”
No, a voice in the back of her head said. He was using you.
“Hmm,” Stu hummed in a faux display of thought. “You know what? I think I can live with that.”
Sidney stared at him, furious tears brimming in her eyes. She shook her head in disbelief. “You’re pathetic.”
Stu grinned. “Maybe. But you’re dead,” he pointed the gun at her again. “And that’s worse.”
Sidney inhaled sharply, stifling her tears and setting her jaw.
“Is it?”
Just then, Billy reappeared in the doorway, dragging something along beside him.