In the beginning stages of movie making, the storyline isn't set in stone. Script rewrites, film takes, mitigating circumstances can arise, changing the course of the story all together.

Some of these takes never see the light of day or go past the brainstorming phase. But then there are those that make it through pre-production but still wind up scrapped, appearing in the bonus features when the DVD finally drops.

Some are trivial, but there are those rare clips; the alternate endings that tend to surpass the original —— an unexpected twist that nobody quite saw coming. For Sadie, the beginning of her alternate ending started when she arrived in the new town she was forced to call home:

Woodsboro, California.

"Are you listening to me?" Adam, her social worker since she was a toddler, broke her disassociation, earning a glare from the teenager. "Sadie, I'm serious. This is your last chance. If you screw this up — I won't be able to keep you out of juvie."

"I understand that," she responded before pressing her lips together in a stubborn line. Her arms were folded, her entire demeanor radiating angst. "But, again, placing me with a cop is basically the same thing as sending me to juvie."

"The sheriff, actually," Adam corrected her, causing her to throw another glare in his direction. "And Sheriff Riley doesn't seem like the drill sergeant type; I'm honestly more concerned for him than I am for you."

"As you should be," she grumbled, gaze shifting out the window — fixing itself on the passing tree line. "I'm tired of this; of moving," She admitted in a rare show of vulnerability. "Just ready for some . . . Stability, I guess."

"Then do me a favor, and be on your best behavior, yeah?" Adam glanced over one more time as he turned into the driveway of what seemed to be one of the nicer places she'd ever been sent. And no bars on the windows — that was a plus. "Ready?" He asked, the fake excitement in his voice nearly making Sadie's entire body cringe.

"As I'll ever be," she replied, emitting a soft sigh and unbuckling her seatbelt. After a brief argument over who'd be carrying her bags — the pair was interrupted by a voice calling from the front door.

"Need some help?" The person Sadie could only assume (based off of the uniform) was Sheriff Riley stood on the porch, hands on his hips in the traditional 'dad' stance.

"I thought you said they didn't have any kids?" She whispered.

"They don't. Be nice," Adam answered, pulling Sadie's small rolling suitcase behind him. "I think we've got it — but thanks for the offer, Sheriff."

"Please, call me Dewey," the man responded, extending his hand toward the social worker. Sadie's eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head; of course his name was Dewey. He emitted the most Dewey energy of anyone Sadie had ever met. And being a kid in the foster system — she'd met quite a few people in her fifteen years. "You must be Sadie. It's nice to finally meet you," he spoke when the pair walked up the front steps of the porch. Her eyes widened a bit when she was pulled into an unexpected hug, her hand instinctively patting his back in response.

Physical affection was definitely something that would take some getting used to.

"Yep, that's me; I see my reputation precedes me," She joked, her voice flat. Humor was her ultimate coping mechanism in any and every situation. The fact that he was a cop wouldn't change that.

"Come on in," Dewey stepped aside, waving a hand toward the open door. Sadie walked in, followed by Adam, then Dewey — who shut the door quietly behind them. "You're room's upstairs — second door on the right."

"Thanks," Sadie replied feebly, taking her suitcase from Adam and sauntering toward the staircase. She tried to focus on the conversation that began between her new foster dad and the social worker. She was almost certain Adam was giving Dewey the usual warnings: she's a flight risk, she's a bit on the unruly side, and she's been stalked by some mysterious stranger for the past year and a half.

That was the main reason Adam wanted her placed with Dewey — she needed the extra protection; especially after what'd happened in her last foster home . . .

Her dissociation broke when she entered the bedroom, replaced by a mixture of being surprised and impressed. It was definitely the nicest room she'd ever been offered. She almost wanted to double check to make sure she hadn't entered the wrong room — but she doubted Sheriff Riley would choose to paint his own bedroom a pale lavender.

Or maybe he did — she didn't judge.

Her eye was caught by a card that was taped to the screen of an all-in-one computer, set up on a white wooden desk on the far end of the bedroom. She pushed her suitcase into the closet and threw her backpack on the bed before crossing the room — grabbing the card and opening it.

Consider the computer and your new phone a late birthday present. If there's anything else you need to be more comfortable, don't be afraid to ask. Want you to be happy here. Dewey.

Well — that was fuckin' soft.

She smiled softly, putting the card down and picking up the brand new iPhone — already in a protective case with a screen protector. This was a smart decision on her foster parents behalf; Sadie's track record with cell phones wasn't the best. She'd eventually stopped replacing her phone after the third time it was smashed by her former foster parents.

Sadie shoved the phone in her back pocket, making a mental note to thank Dewey later — once Adam was gone. He didn't get to see the good side of Sadie; he didn't deserve to.

"Your bathroom is next door," a woman's voice spoke unexpectedly from the doorway — nearly causing Sadie to jump out of her skin. "Sorry," the older woman chuckled, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over her chest. "I'm Gale; your foster . . . Whatever. Anyway, like I said — your bathroom's next door. It's all yours, so it's your responsibility to keep it clean."

"I have my own bathroom?" Sadie asked, the surprise clear in her tone. "No shit."

"No shit," Gale nodded in reply, pushing herself off the doorframe. "Curfew is 9 on school days, 10 on weekends. Zero exceptions unless you're with one of us."

"Anything else?" She asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head as she sunk into the mattress — a welcome change from the jail cot she'd slept on in the last house.

One eyebrow raised over cerulean hues, which slanted slightly at the girl's question. "Any food allergies? We mostly order take-out but I don't want to risk having to give you mouth to mouth."

Spoken like a true smart-ass. The two of them were either bound to be best friends — or worst fucking enemies. "Peanuts," She answered honestly.

"Noted," Gale smirked, turning on her heel and heading toward the staircase. "Take a nap — you look like shit." Sadie couldn't conceal the snort that she emitted, nor the fit of laughter that followed. She adjusted herself — laying her head on one of the four pillows that were placed neatly on the bed. She couldn't remember the last time she used a real pillow, and not a folded up flat sheet.

She hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep until she jumped awake at the sound of a knock on the door frame. "You okay?" Dewey asked from the doorway, cautiously entering the room. "Just wanted to check up on you . . . Are you always this quiet?"

"Only when I'm asleep," She replied somewhat sarcastically, rolling over and rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. "Oh, hey — thanks for the phone and the computer and . . . Stuff." She genuinely meant it — despite the way she came off. Emotions were definitely not her strong suit.

"You're welcome," He replied just as awkwardly, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning — walking down the hall and descending the staircase.

Sadie rolled back over, her eyes fluttering back closed — drifting back into unconsciousness almost instantly.