Hey guys :) I've finally putting up another fic! This time, I thought I'd try my hand at Galewey. This fic takes place after the fourth 'Scream', and it'll probably be a few chapters long. I'm not 100% sure where I'm going with it, so just bear with me, okay? And, if you like it, review! It always helps with motivation. Oh, and the title was for lack of a better one. :P Could possibly get changed after I figure out where I'm going with it. But, anyways, enjoyyyy!
Gale stood alone in an empty field, surrounded by rows and rows of vast oak trees. Darkness fell across her secluded location, mist settling near the ground and a round moon perched precariously above the treetops. She was alone, no houses or people to be seen.
She could hear a rustling noise in one of the bushes, but which one? Her head turned swiftly, looking from tree to tree, trying to find the mysterious noise-maker. She stood completely still, her heart racing and her hands shaking. She heard it again, but this time it almost sounded like a faint whisper.
"Gale…Gale…Gale..."
She heard it. That familiarly eerie voice lurking in the trees somewhere. It was coming for her, just like it had four times before. She wanted to run, but her legs felt heavy, like weights chaining her to the ground. Her breathing increased, and her heart sped up. All she could do was wait.
All of a sudden, a huge, black figure rammed into her side, throwing her down onto the muddy ground. It hovered over her like a black ghost, hidden by the shadows of the night. She tried to fight, squirming and wriggling underneath him, but his body held her down. She screamed, but to no avail. No one was around to hear her.
He lifted his arm up, the gleam of a shiny, silver knife hoisted above his head. Staring at her fear stricken face, he brought it down swiftly, tearing through the flesh of her shoulder. She screamed again, feeling the sticky blood oozing down her body. She felt chills escalate up her spine as the masked figure ran his fingers down her side, taunting her, playing with her.
She struggled again, this time managing to break away from his iron grasp. She crawled backwards, but not fast enough. He grabbed her legs, sliding her through the mud and back underneath him. He tightened his grip around her wrist, cutting off her circulation.
He jammed the knife into her again, this time puncturing right through her stomach. He twisted the knife in circles, enjoying the blood-curdling screams that it produced from her. Gale could feel the excruciatingly sharp tip of the knife cutting inside of her as she gasped for breath, blood spewing violently from her mouth.
He pulled the knife from her, watching as the blood drained from her stomach. She lay writhing beneath him, coughing up blood and gasping for oxygen. She knew for a fact she was dying. No one was there to rescue her this time. Her Dewey wasn't there to come and save the day. She was all alone, the life slowly seeping from her body.
She looked up, seeing the white ghost mask above her. She could feel her senses weakening, slipping slowly into the dark abyss of death. Tears flowed down her cheeks and blood dripped down her body as she watched the maniacal creature kneeling before her, watching her die. She heard one last thing before she surrendered into the darkness…
"Gale…Gale…Gale…"
"Gale…Gale…Gale!" Dewey screamed, shaking his wife vigorously. She was trembling in his arms, a sweaty mess of screams and tears. She jolted awake, her eyes wide with fear.
Gale felt a man's arms tight around her, and her first instinct was to pull away. She jerked back sharply, almost defensively, but sighed contently when she saw the familiar comfort of Dewey's concerned face. She relaxed back into him, breathing heavily. She never liked to look weak in front of anyone, especially not Dewey, but she just couldn't pull herself together this time.
"Gale, are you okay?" Dewey asked, holding his wife in front of him, observing the stream of mascara the tears had left running down her face. Her body was still shaking slightly, and her eyes still looked cautious, as if she would need to fight for her life at any given moment.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," she replied, trying to regulate her breathing. She placed a hand on her heart, the adrenaline still pumping through her body, feeling the perspiration running down her breasts.
The fear was consuming her, and she was letting it. But, the dream felt so real. She could almost feel the knife ripping through her skin, the blood draining from her body, her soul slowly being taken away from her. She shuddered visibly, her eyes beginning to water almost instantly as she thought of that perfectly sharpened blade tearing through her flesh. She wiped the tears and mascara from her eyes, and looked up at Dewey.
"Honey, what happened?" Dewey asked, concern flowing over his words.
"It was…the nightmare," Gale said, finally giving in to her urges and laying her head against Dewey's chest, feeling the warmth of his familiar, safe embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, comfortingly concealing her against him.
"Was it any different this time?" Dewey asked, remembering the last time he had been awakened in the middle of the night by her terrified screams after one of those horrifying realistic dreams.
As she took in a sharp breath, he stroked her hair, trying desperately to make her pain go away.
"Yeah, actually," Gale said, closing her eyes, preparing to tell the haunting tale. "Instead of the usual, this time I was in the woods, surrounded by trees. He rammed into me out of nowhere, and then h-he…"
Dewey heard her words trail away, and he knew that she was crying. The strongest woman he ever knew was breaking. It was a sight he'd thought he would never, ever see. After all of the struggles they'd been through, he wondered if it wasn't normal to feel overwhelmed, or paranoid, but she had always been the rock; she was the one who never backed down, never shed a tear, never ran away from a challenge, no matter what the obstacles were. And now, she was breaking.
She felt the hot tears rolling down her cheeks, and she mentally kicked herself. She wasn't weak. She was a fighter. She didn't cry, or hurt, or let her guard down. Why was she now? Fear and paranoia wasn't something that controlled her; she controlled them. That is, up until now. The past few weeks had been a blur, a whirlwind of agonizingly painful nightmares or torturous memories plaguing and consuming her every thought.
Why now? After all that we've been through…Gale thought again, clutching Dewey's chest, trying to gain control of herself.
"Gale, Honey, why don't we lay back down and go to bed?" Dewey suggested, her body still trembling in his arms. He ran his fingertips up and down her spine, gently soothing her with his touch.
"Y-yeah, sure," Gale stuttered, her tears barely subsiding as she lifted herself from his chest, wiping the water from her face yet again.
Dewey shifted to the side, pulled the covers back, and waited silently for her to get comfortable. Usually, she moved to her side of the bed and faced the wall. Tonight, however, after they were both settled under the covers, she slid over, resting her head lightly on his chest and wrapping one arm around his stomach.
"Wow, this is different," Dewey said with a little chuckle, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. "But, I like it."
"I just…" Gale began, snapping her eyes shut, trying not to think of the vulnerability dripping over her words. "I just need to be close to you right now."
Dewey smiled at her words, but quickly frowned at the hurt and pain filling them. He wanted her to be close to him, but not because she was too afraid to be on her own. This wasn't the Gale that he was use to. Now he had to be the rock, and that scared him. He was always the fumbling idiot, screwing everything up. Now, the tables were completely turned. But, whatever it took, he was going to get her through this. No matter what role in the relationship he had to play, he was determined to make this better.
He tilted her chin upward, looking into those piercing blue eyes that he loved so much, that were bloodshot from the tears she'd shed. He leaned his head forward, kissing her lips softly. He could almost feel the vulnerability flowing through her as she parted her lips, deepening the kiss. After drinking in this incredibly intimate kiss, he drew back slowly, her lips still close to his as he looked at her, her eyes pleading for comfort.
"We'll get through this," Dewey whispered, his breath hot on her lips. "We always do."
~You were my strength when I was weak. You were my voice when I couldn't speak. You were my eyes when I couldn't see, you saw the best there was in me. Lifted me up when I couldn't reach. You gave me faith 'cause you believed. I'm everything I am, because you loved me.~