[ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ]
Title: Ex-Girl
Author: Trish (snoflayyke@aol.com)
Summary: Some sappy blurb about Barry\Helen from "I Know What You
Did Last Summer". In Barry's perspective.
Genre: General\Mild Romance
Content: Language, innuendo
Ratings: PG-13-- for language
Spoilers: Spoilers for the entire movie (includes altered scenes,
events mentioned, and foreshadowing)
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Lois Duncan and the movie is
Kevin Williamson's
Distribution: Anywhere, just ask.
Note: I couldn't get enough of the Helen\Barry interaction in the
movie. Forget Julie\Ray. Ray was a sweetie, but Julie is
just one major... (trails off, realizing that Julie does
have fans) Never mind.
[ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ]
RING!
His phone was ringing.
RING! RING!
Maybe it would stop.
RING! RING! RING!
Why couldn't people get the point? If he hadn't answered it five
or six rings ago, what made them think he would now?
RING! RING!
Although it was annoying the hell out of him. If he answered,
told whoever was on the line to fuck off, then that would be the
end of it. It was obvious that whoever the caller was, he or she
wasn't going to give up.
RING! RING! RING!
What the hell? It was still ringing?
Barry pried open one eye and glanced at his clock radio. The
numbers '6:38' glared back at him in bright red. The phone was
still ringing.
RING! RING! RING! RING!
Groggily, he reached his arm over and tried to locate his phone.
He knocked over some things in his search, but eventually his
hand was able to grasp on to the ringing machine. He picked it up
and held it to his mouth.
"What?" he demanded, curtly. His fatigue was somewhat apparent in
his voice.
"Barry! Barry, oh my God, Barry!" a voice sobbed on the other
end.
It disturbed him enough to cause him to bolt straight up in bed.
That was Helen's voice. His Heller; sounding frantic and
delirious. Last he'd seen her, she'd been giving him the cold
shoulder. Which suited him just fine, because he treated her the
same way. He didn't like having her around. Helen, who reminded
him of that night and what they did.
It was her fault... Her fault that he hated himself. If she
hadn't agreed with him, if she hadn't helped convince the others
to agree with him too, maybe they would have done the right
thing.
He wanted to hate her too. God know's he'd tried. Everytime he
saw her, he focused on the negative things. She was airheaded,
and she was vain, and she wasn't going anywhere in life.
But try as might, he couldn't hate her. All he could muster was a
forced disgust that he really didn't mean.
But hearing her now, sound so terrified...
"Helen, what's the matter? Are you alright?" The words of concern
rushed out of his mouth before he had the chance to stop them.
"He was here," she choked out, between long sobs, "He was here in
my room last night..."
She didn't have to tell him who 'he' was. He already knew. The
guy in the slicker. The same guy who'd run him over and sent
Julie that letter.
"Oh my God," he breathed, the weight of the situation dawning on
him. That man. He'd been in Helen's room. At night. "What did he
do to you?" he demanded, angrily. His veins were coursing with
bubbly, hate-filled blood. His Helen. If anything happened to
her... He couldn't remember being this angry since last summer...
When it happened.
"I'm fine, Barry, but he-" she was breathing hard now.
Hyperventolating, probably, "Could you come over? Elsa and Daddy
are at the store and I can't... I can't be alone. I know that
things aren't great between us, but-"
"Of course I'll come," he interrupted. When had things gotten so
bad between them? She was practically begging him to be with her
after some psychotic maniac attacked her in her room.
"Thank you," she said, her tone sounding like he'd just agreed to
do the nicest thing in the world that anyone ever could do. She'd
spoken like that before... In that same teary voice... Two years
back, when she first told him she loved him and he said it back.
[ * ] [ * ] [ * ]
She was sitting on her bed with her knees drawn to her chest. She
was wearing a hat. Although the door was open, she didn't seem to
realize he was standing at it, watching her.
He knocked, softly.
She shook her head, startled out of her stupor. Her green eyes
wandered torwards the door where she looked at him.
"Barry," she breathed, her voice shaking.
He crossed the room in quick strides, quickly making his way to
the bed, where he sat next to her. The bed. They had made
memories here... They had made memories in places all over her
house, actually. But in this bed, it was tender. It was gentle.
It wasn't wild and animalistic.
Slowly, he reached for her hand. He noticed it was wrapped in
blood-stained guaze. He looked at her with certain worry.
"Did he do this?" he asked her.
She shook her head, and meeky answered, "No... I did."
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Why?"
She gestured her head in the direction of her vanity mirror.
Shards of broken glass was scattered about the surface. Some of
her blood was staining the glass. From what was left of the
mirror, he could make out the word 'Soon' written in lipstick.
He was speechless.
"Maybe Elsa was playing a-"
"No," she stopped him, mid-sentence. "No... That's not all."
He watched as she slowly removed her cap. Her golden blonde hair
fell loose from it's restraint. But something was different. Her
hair only came down to her shoulders. It was cut sloppily and
uneven.
Tears sprang to her eyes.
"When I woke up, I was wearing the Croaker Queen crown," she
explained, her voice wavery, "And my hair was all over me."
Her hair. Anyone else would have been glad to still be alive. But
Helen's hair was... It meant more to her than anything. She had
spent seven years growing those locks out. She brushed it
everyday, and spent any money she had buying products to keep it
healthy and beautiful. He remembered when he used to play with
her hair.
It wasn't about looks. She was still beautiful without the three
feet golden tresses. But she'd cared about it. She spent time on
it. And that's why he'd cut it off. To punish her, whoever he
was.
Barry took her into his arms, and held her as she cried on his
shoulder. They had only had one moment like this... Except, then,
he was the vulnerable one, and she had been strong-- Placing his
head on her lap, and letting him tell her how he felt about his
grandpa's death.
He could no longer figure out his logic of trying to hate her.
She'd been scared that night too. She had an entire future
planned out... A future that included him. She didn't want that
torn apart; not because of an accident.
"Barry," she whispered.
"Hmmm?"
"I lo-"
His heart pounded in anticipation.
At that exact moment, Julie James burst into Helen's room. Her
long hair was in disarray and her eyes were wide with fright.
[ * ] [ * ] [ * ]
Body in a trunk, body in a trunk. The mental picture would not
disappear. Max was dead. The crabs had been eating his decaying
flesh. That could have been him... Worse even, that could have
been Helen.
Worse? How could her fate be worse than his own?
Oh, right. He reminded himself. You love her.
He walked with her torwards the Croaker Auditorium. Her hand was
snuggled into his own. It had been awhile since they'd last done
that. He had forgotten how warm and silky she was. Slowly, he
interlaced their fingers.
Nothing was going to happen to her. He wouldn't let it. She meant
too much to him. He would die before letting anything happen to
her.
"Barry, I'm scared," she said. She was nearly crying... But she
held some restraint. It was almost time for the Ongoing Croaker
Queen to make her appearance. She didn't want to smudge her
make up.
"I know," he answered, stoically. He didn't want her knowing he
was scared. He wanted her to feel protected. How protected would
she feel if he became unglued before her?
"He had a hook," she rasped, turning to face him, "I saw him."
He nodded hid head. He'd seen the hook. He'd been threatened with
it. Fortunately, the man in the slicker hadn't seen fit to gut
him yet.
Yet, being the operative word. He had to be careful. For his sake
and Helen's.
"Don't worry about it, Heller," he told her, unknowingly using
his old nickname for her, "I won't let anything happen to you. I
promise."
Her eyes gazed into his, and he nearly melted. She leaned into
him, and wrapped her arms around him. Tears came to her her eyes
as she buried herself within the nook of his body. He kissed her
forehead.
He wouldn't. He wouldn't let any harm come to her. He would die
first.
--end
[ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ]
*After Helen punched in her mirror, her hands were perfectly
fine. What's the deal with that?
*In the original IKWYDLS, Barry referred to Helen as "Heller".
I'm torn between the movie and the book. In the book, everyone
stayed alive. But in the book, Helen was a moron and Barry was a
jerk (more so).
Title: Ex-Girl
Author: Trish (snoflayyke@aol.com)
Summary: Some sappy blurb about Barry\Helen from "I Know What You
Did Last Summer". In Barry's perspective.
Genre: General\Mild Romance
Content: Language, innuendo
Ratings: PG-13-- for language
Spoilers: Spoilers for the entire movie (includes altered scenes,
events mentioned, and foreshadowing)
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Lois Duncan and the movie is
Kevin Williamson's
Distribution: Anywhere, just ask.
Note: I couldn't get enough of the Helen\Barry interaction in the
movie. Forget Julie\Ray. Ray was a sweetie, but Julie is
just one major... (trails off, realizing that Julie does
have fans) Never mind.
[ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ]
RING!
His phone was ringing.
RING! RING!
Maybe it would stop.
RING! RING! RING!
Why couldn't people get the point? If he hadn't answered it five
or six rings ago, what made them think he would now?
RING! RING!
Although it was annoying the hell out of him. If he answered,
told whoever was on the line to fuck off, then that would be the
end of it. It was obvious that whoever the caller was, he or she
wasn't going to give up.
RING! RING! RING!
What the hell? It was still ringing?
Barry pried open one eye and glanced at his clock radio. The
numbers '6:38' glared back at him in bright red. The phone was
still ringing.
RING! RING! RING! RING!
Groggily, he reached his arm over and tried to locate his phone.
He knocked over some things in his search, but eventually his
hand was able to grasp on to the ringing machine. He picked it up
and held it to his mouth.
"What?" he demanded, curtly. His fatigue was somewhat apparent in
his voice.
"Barry! Barry, oh my God, Barry!" a voice sobbed on the other
end.
It disturbed him enough to cause him to bolt straight up in bed.
That was Helen's voice. His Heller; sounding frantic and
delirious. Last he'd seen her, she'd been giving him the cold
shoulder. Which suited him just fine, because he treated her the
same way. He didn't like having her around. Helen, who reminded
him of that night and what they did.
It was her fault... Her fault that he hated himself. If she
hadn't agreed with him, if she hadn't helped convince the others
to agree with him too, maybe they would have done the right
thing.
He wanted to hate her too. God know's he'd tried. Everytime he
saw her, he focused on the negative things. She was airheaded,
and she was vain, and she wasn't going anywhere in life.
But try as might, he couldn't hate her. All he could muster was a
forced disgust that he really didn't mean.
But hearing her now, sound so terrified...
"Helen, what's the matter? Are you alright?" The words of concern
rushed out of his mouth before he had the chance to stop them.
"He was here," she choked out, between long sobs, "He was here in
my room last night..."
She didn't have to tell him who 'he' was. He already knew. The
guy in the slicker. The same guy who'd run him over and sent
Julie that letter.
"Oh my God," he breathed, the weight of the situation dawning on
him. That man. He'd been in Helen's room. At night. "What did he
do to you?" he demanded, angrily. His veins were coursing with
bubbly, hate-filled blood. His Helen. If anything happened to
her... He couldn't remember being this angry since last summer...
When it happened.
"I'm fine, Barry, but he-" she was breathing hard now.
Hyperventolating, probably, "Could you come over? Elsa and Daddy
are at the store and I can't... I can't be alone. I know that
things aren't great between us, but-"
"Of course I'll come," he interrupted. When had things gotten so
bad between them? She was practically begging him to be with her
after some psychotic maniac attacked her in her room.
"Thank you," she said, her tone sounding like he'd just agreed to
do the nicest thing in the world that anyone ever could do. She'd
spoken like that before... In that same teary voice... Two years
back, when she first told him she loved him and he said it back.
[ * ] [ * ] [ * ]
She was sitting on her bed with her knees drawn to her chest. She
was wearing a hat. Although the door was open, she didn't seem to
realize he was standing at it, watching her.
He knocked, softly.
She shook her head, startled out of her stupor. Her green eyes
wandered torwards the door where she looked at him.
"Barry," she breathed, her voice shaking.
He crossed the room in quick strides, quickly making his way to
the bed, where he sat next to her. The bed. They had made
memories here... They had made memories in places all over her
house, actually. But in this bed, it was tender. It was gentle.
It wasn't wild and animalistic.
Slowly, he reached for her hand. He noticed it was wrapped in
blood-stained guaze. He looked at her with certain worry.
"Did he do this?" he asked her.
She shook her head, and meeky answered, "No... I did."
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Why?"
She gestured her head in the direction of her vanity mirror.
Shards of broken glass was scattered about the surface. Some of
her blood was staining the glass. From what was left of the
mirror, he could make out the word 'Soon' written in lipstick.
He was speechless.
"Maybe Elsa was playing a-"
"No," she stopped him, mid-sentence. "No... That's not all."
He watched as she slowly removed her cap. Her golden blonde hair
fell loose from it's restraint. But something was different. Her
hair only came down to her shoulders. It was cut sloppily and
uneven.
Tears sprang to her eyes.
"When I woke up, I was wearing the Croaker Queen crown," she
explained, her voice wavery, "And my hair was all over me."
Her hair. Anyone else would have been glad to still be alive. But
Helen's hair was... It meant more to her than anything. She had
spent seven years growing those locks out. She brushed it
everyday, and spent any money she had buying products to keep it
healthy and beautiful. He remembered when he used to play with
her hair.
It wasn't about looks. She was still beautiful without the three
feet golden tresses. But she'd cared about it. She spent time on
it. And that's why he'd cut it off. To punish her, whoever he
was.
Barry took her into his arms, and held her as she cried on his
shoulder. They had only had one moment like this... Except, then,
he was the vulnerable one, and she had been strong-- Placing his
head on her lap, and letting him tell her how he felt about his
grandpa's death.
He could no longer figure out his logic of trying to hate her.
She'd been scared that night too. She had an entire future
planned out... A future that included him. She didn't want that
torn apart; not because of an accident.
"Barry," she whispered.
"Hmmm?"
"I lo-"
His heart pounded in anticipation.
At that exact moment, Julie James burst into Helen's room. Her
long hair was in disarray and her eyes were wide with fright.
[ * ] [ * ] [ * ]
Body in a trunk, body in a trunk. The mental picture would not
disappear. Max was dead. The crabs had been eating his decaying
flesh. That could have been him... Worse even, that could have
been Helen.
Worse? How could her fate be worse than his own?
Oh, right. He reminded himself. You love her.
He walked with her torwards the Croaker Auditorium. Her hand was
snuggled into his own. It had been awhile since they'd last done
that. He had forgotten how warm and silky she was. Slowly, he
interlaced their fingers.
Nothing was going to happen to her. He wouldn't let it. She meant
too much to him. He would die before letting anything happen to
her.
"Barry, I'm scared," she said. She was nearly crying... But she
held some restraint. It was almost time for the Ongoing Croaker
Queen to make her appearance. She didn't want to smudge her
make up.
"I know," he answered, stoically. He didn't want her knowing he
was scared. He wanted her to feel protected. How protected would
she feel if he became unglued before her?
"He had a hook," she rasped, turning to face him, "I saw him."
He nodded hid head. He'd seen the hook. He'd been threatened with
it. Fortunately, the man in the slicker hadn't seen fit to gut
him yet.
Yet, being the operative word. He had to be careful. For his sake
and Helen's.
"Don't worry about it, Heller," he told her, unknowingly using
his old nickname for her, "I won't let anything happen to you. I
promise."
Her eyes gazed into his, and he nearly melted. She leaned into
him, and wrapped her arms around him. Tears came to her her eyes
as she buried herself within the nook of his body. He kissed her
forehead.
He wouldn't. He wouldn't let any harm come to her. He would die
first.
--end
[ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ] [ * ]
*After Helen punched in her mirror, her hands were perfectly
fine. What's the deal with that?
*In the original IKWYDLS, Barry referred to Helen as "Heller".
I'm torn between the movie and the book. In the book, everyone
stayed alive. But in the book, Helen was a moron and Barry was a
jerk (more so).