Sidney Prescott looked into the calm blue water of the pool below her, it gently billowed her image, presenting her slender build, shoulder-length brown hair that had superfluously been teased just a few days before at the salon, and her friendly, if guarded, smile. After all these years, she finally felt the way she looked. Normal. When people looked at her, they couldn't off-hand guess that she was the target of several criminally insane individuals. They didn't see the guilt and sorrow she held within her over the deaths of her friends and people she only barely knew, all because of the bullshit mommy-issues of her half-brother Roman.
Roman was dead now, however, and with his burial, she put to rest all of the trauma. She had washed herself clean of the past and moved forward. While she kept her Nappa Valley home for the seldom times when she did feel overwhelmed by the presence of other people, for the most part, Sidney lived in LA. Sometimes with a certain homicide detective, sometimes without him. Her relationship with Mark Kincaid matched her lifestyle in its easy-going, take-it-or-leave-it nature. If Mark wigged her out by trying to be too serious or not serious enough, she'd stay at her place, otherwise she'd stay at his. She was enjoying being 25 and most importantly, care-free. She kept her job at the California Women's Crisis Center, but now held a job within one of its offices and among the living. Everything was going fine with her life.
However, every silver lining has a cloud.
