Chapter One Cast List:

Sheri Platt: Paris Hilton

Chelsea Shaw: Kristen Cavallari

Jessica Lithgow: Demi Lovato

Epigraph

In a white padded cell, she sat, isolated from the world and all of its horrors. She was locked away from everyone and everything, but she was safe at last. Finally, after years of anxiety and pain and suffering, she was safe; however, she was both free and imprisoned. Being locked up in a cell was not the plan she had for her life. But it was her choice, and the constant dread was gone. She no longer had to fear for her life. There was no more wondering if she would one day be defeated by the "ghosts" of her past. Every night since she had voluntarily locked herself away, she had gotten full nights of sleep. Sleep that was well needed, and for all things considered, well deserved. The sole surviving teen of the Woodsboro Murders was now a scathed and jaded woman, now in her late thirties. There was no more strength left in her for running or screaming. Her scars, both emotionally and physically, had begun the healing process, and for that to happen, she needed rest.

Sidney Prescott's once sheen, chestnut hair was now dull and graying. The shadowy bags under her eyes portrayed the dark life she had been forced to live. However, her beauty had not faded. Yes, Sidney's presence was indeed weathered, but she still had the same deep penetrating topaz eyes, and the same innocently striking smile. The only thought that kept her going, was that she knew shed been able to face her demons, and ultimately defeat them. Now, though she had security, she felt as though she had surrendered. All she could do with her life now was stare. And stare she did. Every minute of her new peaceful life was spent staring bleakly at the walls of the intensely illuminated white room. The once tenacious and resilient woman was now fragile, but she now felt solace.

1

Outside the large, two-story suburban house, all was calm and silent. The night was still and the full moon shone down across the desolate town, casting long eerie shadows on the houses of Woodsboro, California. Lonely, tired Woodsboro had been vacated in the last few years, leaving only its oldest families and richest residents to live amongst themselves.

Sheri Platt sat on her couch trying to find something to watch on TV. A girl like her, so spoiled rotten could never be satisfied. Even with all the things a less fortunate girl could ever dream of, Sheri still seemed to never be pleased. The I-phone vibrated on the couch next to her. She instinctively reached for it and pressed "talk".

"Hey Chels, what's up?" she asked the her friend on the other end.

"Nothing's up. I'm so bored. What's up with you?," asked the girl.

"Nothing, really. There's nothing on but re-runs," replied the first girl, while desperately flipping through the channels on the television. "It's fucking June. You would think there'd be at least one damn good movie on TV during the summer." She pulled her platinum-blonde hair back behind her ears and tied it with a hair band from the end table next to the couch.

"No shit. Want me to stop by? There's really nothing to do here," she said.

"Sure. And bring something good to watch. I hate cable TV. There's never anything on."

"Tell me about it. I'll be right over. Just let me change my clothes 'cause I'm still in my work uniform. Okay?"

"Okay, but please hurry up. I'm bored out of my mind."

"Alright, okay 'pushy', I'll be right there," she teased.

"Oh….and one more thing," Sheri said with a sinister grin. "I invited Jessica Lithgow."

"Gross, not her. Please tell me you're joking," Chelsea asked.

"This will be a night to remember, trust me," Sheri assured.

"Alright, I'll be right over." With that, Chelsea snapped her phone shut and tossed it into her worn Coach bag. She closed her bedroom door and began to change out of her formal clothes and into casual ones.

Jessica Lithgow stood in front of her antique full length mirror. She was ready for tonight. As ready as an outcast, despondent and incredibly misunderstood nineteen year old could ever be. And, even though she had run a brush through her wavy, midnight coloured hair that draped nicely over her shoulders and came to an end under her chest, she felt little comfort in knowing she was venturing outside of her safe zone tonight. She had barely made an effort to befriend or trust a single person since…well, since it had happened. The incident that had changed her life and permanently altered her mind. All the events in her life that plagued her mind in the past few years of her life were slowly and finally evanescing. It had been years since she was able to fully trust another human being, Jessica stood there, staring hard at her reflection, looking deeply into her own eyes; eyes that were a sweet balance of caramel and innocence. Eyes that had seen so much corruption, but were resilient and remained virtuous. She had applied a small amount of makeup; the usual foundation that only made her porcelain skin appear smooth, her brown eyeliner and black mascara which hid the pain in her eyes, and just a touch of red chap-stick, which matched the natural color of her soft, naïve smile. Throwing on a brown leather jacket over her olive v-neck, she flipped her hair over her shoulders and left the house.

Sheri's phone vibrated again. "Unknown caller," she said out loud to herself. While throwing the phone back onto the couch, she proudly proclaimed, "Ignore!"

She got up off the couch and strolled over to the kitchen. Throwing open the refrigerator door, she sighed in disgust at the lack of groceries. She slammed the fridge door shut and flipped the television back on.

"I have a 72 inch flat screen TV and nothing to watch with it. Fucking pathetic," she muttered to herself. Annoyed, she clicked the off button on the remote and tossed it onto the end table. Her phone vibrated again, with each vibration bringing it closer and closer to the edge of the sofa cushion. Before the last vibration sent the phone flying over the edge, she grasped it and flipped it open.

"What's up? Who's this?," she asked, bothered.

"You tell me who you are," a raspy, male voice said inquisitively, "and then I'll tell you who I am."

"I am…," she thought for a minute, "uninterested." She hung up the phone and walked over to the staircase. Feeling a little uneasy, she flicked on the hallway light that lit the top of the stairs, and cautiously made her way up each step, one by one.

Chelsea finished changing out of her work clothes. She grabbed the brush on her vanity and brushed her hair once through, to make herself somewhat presentable. After all, it was a Friday night….a summer Friday night, and who knew what kind of events Sheri had planned for them tonight. The weekend ritual for the two sexy blondes usually was to dress up in extremely revealing outfits and see who could get the most stares from drooling boys at the mall. However, this time, the most unpopular girl they knew, had an invitation to their little girls' night out. "What a bummer," she said aloud to herself, after thinking what the night could possibly turn into with misfit Jessica Lithgow around. Fitting herself comfortably into the driver's seat, she threw her bag to the floor of the passenger's side of her new birthday present: a navy blue 2014 Honda Accord.

At the top of the steps, Sheri's phone began to vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out and checked the number.

"Unknown caller again," Sheri said aloud. She pressed talk and asked, "Can I help you with something? Stop calling me you damn psycho."

She hung up on the chilling caller, but he immediately called back. "What the hell," she said aloud. Then she flipped her phone open and asked the caller, "What the fuck do you want, asswipe?"

"No, you're the as swipe, you bitch," said the raspy voice. "And I'm gonna cut your pretty little face up into little bite-size pieces and feed it to you!"

Paralyzed with fear, Sheri dropped the phone to the floor and made a run for her bedroom door. The corridor seemed to stretch for miles as she ran for the door. When she finally reached it, she slammed it shut behind her and turned the lock. "Oh shit, oh shit…," she whispered, realizing she had left her cell phone in the hallway, and knowing she wasn't about to retrieve it, she frantically scanned the room for the house phone: on the bed, under all the sheets, on top of the dresser, in the dresser drawers, under a pile of clothes. And then, like some kind of miracle, the house phone rang. It was on the floor, underneath the bed. She reached her arm underneath the bed and retrieved the telephone. She pressed talk and put the speaker to her ear.

"Hello, Sheri," said the harassing caller, "You should know better than to hang up on me. All I wanted was to play a game with you. Now…YOU DIE!"

Sheri crouched down on the floor next to her bed and put her head between her knees. With tears streaming down her face, she pleaded with the voice, "No. please, no. I'm sorry! Who are you? Where are you? What do you want?"

"I want to hang you upside down and gut you down the middle!," the caller threatened.

"No!," she shrieked.

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!" the voice said from behind her. Sheri turned around to find a ghastly figure looming over her. A tall, black robe and a long, slender ghost mask.

Chelsea pulled up in front of Sheri's home and into the long driveway that led her behind the house where she parked in front of the garage. Her car beeped as she pressed the lock button on her car key. She walked up the steps of the deck to the back door. It was locked. She banged on it. No answer.

Sheri kicked the attacker in his knees and he was knocked backward onto the floor. Realizing she might have a chance, she sprung towards the bedroom door and reached for the handle. Desperately trying to pull the door open, she remembered she had locked it. He came closer, At the last second before the attacker advanced towards her, she managed to get the door ajar, and she bolted down the hallway. As she did so, she heard banging on the back door. Sheri stopped at the railing and was about to scream for her life, when the masked slayer covered her mouth and tried to push her over it. Feeling that their combined weight was indeed about to cause the railing to give way, she grabbed the attacker's black robe and clung to it with all the strength in her petite body, ready to take him down with her. The wooden railing bars broke free and the two of them tumbled down onto the table in the foyer. They came down, smashing through silverware, plates, and a glass vase full of assorted flora. The house was silent for an instant, as both lay motionless on the floor, momentarily unconscious.

Chelsea made her way down the driveway to the front of the house. She walked across the stepping stones in the lawn to the front door. This door was locked too. What the hell, she thought. And just as she was about to knock, the door unlocked. She hesitated to clutch the knob and push the door open, and as she did, the lights went out…and she walked in into utter darkness.

Inside, Sheri had regained consciousness and slipped away before the killer did. Panicking, she made her way to the back of the house, to the door that led out to the garage. She flipped the light switch. Nothing. Shit, she thought. Praying and clenching her fists, she plunged into the darkness of the murky garage.

Chelsea pushed open the heavy front door. It seemed too take a lifetime for the door to open as it creaked and squealed. Once inside, she reached her arm around, feeling the wall for a light switch. She felt one. She flicked it. The fan came on with a loud and fast whoosh. She felt another. She flicked that one. The living room and foyer lights came on, briefly blinding her. She lost her breath for a second as her mind realized that something was not right. "Shit," she said aloud. The table was smashed, the lamp from the side table was on the floor. Something caught her gaze, and she looked up at the staircase railing. Oh shit, she thought. For the first time in a very long time, Chelsea Shaw had a rational thought. She knew that if made a sound, whatever or whoever attacked her best friend, would come for her too. She cautiously made her way past the living room, into the dining room, past the kitchen, to the garage door…It was open.

Jessica parked in front of the Platt residence. What a home, she thought too herself. The house was undeniably gorgeous. The family could obviously afford it. The Platts were one of the wealthy families that held together Woodsboro's now fragile economy. Jessica got out of her black 1999 Honda Civic and locked the doors. She nervously strode up the walkway to the front patio. She saw the doorbell, and rang it. She waited a while…there was no answer. She turned the doorknob and pushed. The door was locked. She pounded on the door. No answer. Confused, Jessica walked across the stepping stones to the driveway and went around to the back of the house.

"Sheri…are you in here?" Chelsea whispered as quietly as possible. She warily moved into the darkness, her heart practically beating out of her chest. The only light in the garage were thin beams of moonlight streaming in through the tiny windows of the electric door. Chelsea gasped loudly as the lights came on. Strapped in a chair in front of her was Sheri, duct tape over her mouth, around her legs, and her hands. The door to the kitchen slammed shut. Chelsea gasped. Standing in front of the door was the frightening figure in a black robe and ghost mask.

"Who the fuck are you?" she asked, almost breathless. "Please…let us go." And just as she pleaded with him, the killer pressed a button on the wall next to him. The electric door began to rise up to the ceiling.

"Make your choice, Chelsea," the killer said. "Live…or DIE!"

He began to walk towards her. She ran for the chair, ripping at the duct tape on Sheri's hands and legs. Her long nails couldn't pull the tape off. Ghost face held up a device with a button on it. As he pressed the button, the garage door began to come back down. "Too late!" he exclaimed. At the last couple seconds, Jessica approached the garage. Her eyes widened in horror as she comprehended what was happening. She made a run for the garage, but as she got to it, the door was closed. Chelsea ran to the tiny window in the door and mouthed the words "help me." Jessica tried to pull the door up from the bottom, knowing that it was an effort made in vain.

The killer jabbed a pair of garden shears into Sheri's stomach. She groaned through the duct tape from the excruciating pain as he opened up the shears, tearing her entrails. A red river rushed down the legs of the chair and ran down into a pool on the cement floor. "Noooo Sheri!" Chelsea shrieked, and grabbed a shovel off of the wall, swinging it at the killer. He ducked. She swung again, this time at his legs, and he fell to the floor. Chelsea raced for her life, towards the door. She turned the knob and a feeling of sheer relief overcame her body and mind, more so than anytime in her life, as she felt the door open. She ran into the kitchen, but was grabbed from behind. Ghostface raised his knife, but Chelsea wasn't about to give up. She squirmed and twisted as violently as she could until she was free of his grip and dashed for the front door. She was almost through the doorframe, but was jolted back as the knife was plunged deep into her back. He retracted the knife, and held by her neck. His knife came down, this time in her chest. The pain was unlike any feeling she had experienced in her life. Chelsea Shaw suddenly realized what it felt like to die. She simply closed her eyes as ghostface pulled the knife from her heart and let her body fall to the ground. Just as suddenly as the attack happened, the ghastly figure crept away into the night, and all was calm.