Inspired by Scream. I regret nothing.

When A Stranger Calls

"And it is in these trying times that we must remember to stand together. There will be grief counselors here throughout the week to help you sort out your feelings in the face of such an awful tragedy".

Jane Lane continued to hastily draw in her sketchbook, largely ignoring the speech being given by 'How Does That Make You Feel" O'Neill. She still couldn't get the image out of her head. They'd only shown it once but the internet was home to many wonders, including gruesome crime scene shots, and that was all she needed to cement it in her memory. All that blood, all that gore; something about it just drew her in. His body had almost been completely eviscerated, torso ripped to shreds. People were claiming that it was the work of some kind of animal but Jane heard the police reports that everyone seemed hellbent on ignoring. It wasn't the mark of an animal but a murderer. There was no animal that she'd ever seen around the tiny suburb that could do something like that and she couldn't see why people were blinding themselves to the truth. If some deer could do that then she'd have a big enough story to send off to Sick, Sad World.

"What are you doing?"

The stern voice belonged to none other than Daria Morgendorffer, her best friend and partner in crime. She was sitting rigidly next to her, the heavy atmosphere affecting her far more than she was letting on. She was staring at Jane's sketchbook with wide eyes, clearly not a fan of the grisly murder scene that Jane was recreating.

"What? I'm grieving".

"You think this is funny? Skylar is dead".

Jane rolled her eyes, "So what? One less popular idiot to make everyone else's lives miserable".

"...Can you imagine being killed like that?", Daria swallowed hard, "It must've been terrifying".

"Yeah. Pretty sick".

Jane went back to work, not wanting to get bogged down by Daria's mood. What would life be if she couldn't find the humor in bad situations?


It was nearing 12:00 AM when her cellphone started vibrating.

Daria was lying in bed, staring straight at the ceiling, with no hope of sleep otherwise she would've utilized the silent function and ignored it. Her thoughts were plagued by vicious nightmares: blood soaked earth, the glint of a knife blade, the sound of ear-piercing shrieks. It was a real life horror story and she found that it wasn't nearly as entertaining as it was in the movies. She kept a stranglehold on her emotions, refusing to let even one ounce of fear show on her face but the truth was...she was uneasy. This was Lawndale, not New York City. Murders weren't commonplace. The last major headline news was the string of burglaries that turned out to be nothing more than a dumb prank pulled by a couple of middle-schoolers. She couldn't get the image of Skylar's mutilated body out of her head. Jane was gung-ho about it all, eating up every ounce of it. To her, it was nothing more than karma. Bad people had bad things happen to them; it was that simple. For some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was much more to it. The incessant buzzing of her phone caused her to roll over, dark eyes narrowing as 'UNKNOWN CALLER' flashed across the screen. Great, just what I need, a wrong number.

She easily swiped across the screen to answer it, slowly bringing the receiver to her ear, "Hello?"

"Hello, Daria".

The voice was deep and distorted, clearly the result of someone screwing around with a voice changer. A number of likely candidates circled through her head from her sister and her brain-dead friends, to Jane, to the group of assholes that liked to annoy her at every turn. Either way, she was irritated and she didn't appreciate the little joke.

"Very funny. How much did that app cost you? $1.99?"

"This technologies a little more...sophisticated", there was a brief pause, enough of a lull to make her wonder if they'd hung up, "Did you enjoy your gift?"

"Even if I knew what you were talking about, you're a month early. My birthday's in November".

There was a chuckle and something about it made her uncomfortable. She rolled onto her other side, eyes peering out of her darkened bedroom window. The longer she stared, the more she was sure that someone was watching her despite the fact that she was on the second floor. She couldn't see a damned thing past the yellowing streetlight but that didn't prevent her mind from concocting detailed imaginings. In one swift movement, she reached forward and shut the curtains.

"Pity, I thought you'd appreciate my craftsmanship. Do you know how hard it is to gut a pig like that?"

She jumped up, eyes suddenly as wide as a deer caught in headlights. They were talking about Skylar. Whatever small bit of amusement she'd felt before had all but disappeared. This wasn't funny or silly or even aggravating anymore. It was disturbing.

"Okay, Jane, you really got me good", she said, nervously biting her lip, "Remind me to never underestimate your abilities again".

"As if she could hold a candle to me. Fear looks good on you. Almost as good as that tank top".

She whipped around, drawn back towards the window. She quickly rolled off of her bed, squeezing into the space between her bed and her nightstand. If she was scared before, it was nothing compared to how she felt now. Her heart was hammering inside of her chest and her hands were shaking so badly that she almost dropped the phone.

"This isn't funny. Whoever you are, I'm hanging up-"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. We're not done talking yet", there was the distinct sound of metal scraping against something and the image of a knife immediately popped into her head, "Now, I did you a favor. And I must say, I took pleasure in getting rid of that waste of oxygen. I'm willing to take out the rest of the garbage but I'm not sensing gratitude".

"I never wanted him dead-"

"Bullshit", the voice was suddenly cold and she found herself clamping her mouth shut, "I look forward to the day when he's buried six feet under with nothing but worms for company. While everyone else weeps, I'll rejoice in knowing that one blight on my life has been extinguished. Permanently".

The words were as familiar to her as the back of her hand because they were her own. She'd written them several weeks back, after one particularly grating day of relentless bullying. She would've preferred a physical beating over the verbal daggers they threw at her, her skin not as thick as she pretended. They wore her down despite her best efforts to ignore them. She was angry and tired and venting on her blog was the only therapy she had. She hadn't thought about it since...until now. She swallowed hard, wondering who the hell this was. Her blog was anonymous, nothing on it linking back to her. How did they know?

"All that rage, that bitterness. It festers and boils. Release, when it finds you, can be [i]addicting[/i]".

"You're sick".

"You'll see it my way soon enough. Sweet dreams".

The line went dead and she was left reeling, trying to wrap her mind around it all. There was no way she'd be getting any sleep tonight.


He hung up the phone, tossing it to ground next to his backpack. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, knowing that he'd planted the seed and the roots would start to spread on their own. He leaned back in the driver's seat, idly turning over the hunting knife in his hands. It was so easy, much easier than he thought possible.

Skylar was a moron, an absolute breeze to track and corner. Years of hunting with his father made it like a cakewalk to him and Skylar never saw it coming. The mask had been a last minute addition but a necessary part of the chase. He could still see the absolute terror in his hazel eyes, still hear the way he wailed like a baby. He knew that the kill had to have flair, be done with finesse. He had to make a statement and, boy, did he. The media was eating it up and he was only just getting started. And to think none of this would be without his one brilliant source of inspiration.

He'd had his eye on Daria for a long time, something about her so compelling that he yearned to know more. Stumbling upon her blog hadn't been hard. Once he'd hacked into her computer, it was easy to see what she spent her free time doing. Her writing betrayed her inner torment and, the more he read, the more he wanted to lend a helping hand. What could he say? He was a selfless person. He looked back towards her window, not pulling away until the light clicked off.

Her attitude bugged him but he knew she'd come to his side when everything was said and done. She was in shock now, still trying to rationalize it all. How happy she would be when he started picking them off one by one, spilling their worthless blood on the pavement for everyone to see. She'd be driven to him, there was no doubt in his mind. There was a morbid streak running through her that she tried to hide but he'd read it all. She had a hunger for knowledge, a need to know it all, and he'd leave her breadcrumbs until she found him.