Disclaimer: I do not own Scream.

"I've seen enough horror movies to know that any weirdo wearing a mask is never friendly."
- Elizabeth; Friday the 13th Part VI: Jason Lives (1986)

How do you describe to someone the experience of almost being killed?

How do you describe, in words, the terror of having someone want to end your life. How do you tell someone how horrible it is to think that your life is about to end. How can you explain the frustration is trying to think clearly, trying to figure out how to save your own life, when you've got a bloodthirsty killer trying to end you.

Even worse, how can you focus clearly on what exactly is happening when you're more focused on keeping yourself alive.

I couldn't remember…I was too busy trying to block everything out.

I had almost died, and I was still trying to swallow my fear. I was trying to forget. And yet, they were trying to make me remember. They were pressuring me to. They wanted me to tell them how I had run for my life.

And I couldn't.

They were pressing me to tell them. Reprimanding me whenever I trailed off. I couldn't even get beyond telling them about the first few sounds I had heard.

And there were getting annoyed at me! They wanted this to be easy? How could it be?

And they kept on, until finally I just broke.

I'll explain this now…I hate crying. It makes me feel weak and fragile, and that is something I am not. Its even worse for me to cry in front of people.

I can count, on one hand, the amount of times I have cried in front of another person that I remember.

When Uncle Henry died in the hospital.

At Uncle Henry's funeral.

When my dad left my mom, and I had begged him to stay for me.

At Sidney's mom's funeral, when Tatum and I sat at the front with Sid.

I wasn't like my mom, who started crying at the drop of a hat. She cried everytime she didn't get her way, and that was the time that she was at her ugliest. She cried huge, fat tears that fell in a constant torrent, and her nose ran, and she sobbed something horrible.

I wasn't like that.

When I cried I tried to hold it in. I tried to keep the tears from falling. And when they did, I let out small gasping breaths, and my body would shake. I liked to think that I was a graceful crier. I didn't look like my mom when she cried. The tears didn't fall in a constant stream, and the nose running was kept to a reasonable minimum.

But I still hated crying in front of others because it opened the door for sympathy, which was an even worse feeling that being weak.

I could remember when my dad left, having to go to school the follwing Monday. It had been during my Sophmore year, and I had went to school, trying to look as decent as possible despite the fact that I hadn't eaten since he had left and I'd barely slept. I looked a mess, and I'd wanted to stay home, but my mom had pulled a bitch move and wouldn't let me. So I'd pulled on the outfit that looked the best on me, hoping it would distract people from the bags under my eyes and how pale I was and the distinctive, 'I hate everything right now,' aura that I gave off.

This is after Stu and I had broken up, and he was trying to win me over again, so he was being unusually friendly. Right away, her had known something was up, and had rushed over.

"Cat, you okay?" He'd asked, smiling his usually goofy grin.

"No," I had answered simply, and I had kept walking past him, not bothering to stop and talk. But Stu's persistant ass had kept right on. He fell into step beside me, looking at me closely.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

I walked faster, but he quickened his pace to match mine.

"My dad left," I answered finally, my tone a low snarl.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see surprise flit across Stu's face.

"Whoa? What?"

I turned to glare at him, my eyes narrowed and fierce and a scowl on my face.

"Oh…I'm sorry." He had said, but I shook my head.

"Don't be. It's not your fault." I'd snapped, stopping and turning to face him. "It's not my fucking fault either! Just leave me alone! I don't feel like fucking dealing with you right now!"

Stu had left after that, knowing that I was a force to be reckoned with when I was angry.

I couldn't help the way I reacted to sympathy. I guess I was just to proud to accept it.

And tears led to sympathy and I just couldn't handle that.

So I finally withdrew into myself, not answering any of the questions they asked me.

Finally I think they gave up, because they stood and walked away, leaving me there alone.

Randy approached me a few moments after they had gone, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I was still drifted off into the place inside me where nothing bad could happen, so when he touched me I jumped, turning to look at him with wide eyes, my heart beat escalating.

He looked down at me, obviously surprised by my reaction.

"Cat…"

I shook my head quickly, clenching my eyes shut.

"I wanna leave," I told him finally. "I just want to leave."

And then I stood, still not looking at him, ashamed that someone couldn't even touch me now without me almost having a fucking heart attack.

I ended up over by Sidney, who looked up at me with those haunted brown eyes of her, and I looked back at her.

She was scared too, that much I could tell.

She was just as scared and desperate for answers as I was. And maybe we would help each other to get through this. After all, we had both survived the attacks on us.

I was still alive. I wouldn't be taken down easily. I couldn't allow myself to be.

"We can go, Cat. They said we could go." I turned to see Randy approaching me again, this time keeping his distance.

I wanted to touch him. I wanted to kiss and hug him and apologize for the way I was acting and assure him that everything was going to be okay.

But I knew I wouldn't. I knew I wouldn't be able to bring myself to do it.

The least I could do though was allow him to guide me out of the station by my elbow. I owed him that.

When we finally broke away from reporters we got into my jeep and he pulled away from the station, not saying anything to me.

We were in a precarious position, he and I.

We both knew how these things turned out. In the movies, it was always the girl's boyfriend who was killed. It was common among the horror genre.

If I were him, I would be turning and running.

It wasn't over. That's what I felt in my gut.

There was still more to come, and I was still meant to be part of it. I had no doubt in my mind that if the killer had caught me tonight he would have killed me. This was not a scare tactic. He had intended to kill me.

Only he hadn't. I had gotten away. That was a problem. He would be angy.

No…he would be beyond angry. He would make sure that I died next time. So the only plausible form of defense for me would be to kill him.

That thought terrified me.

I knew it was wrong. It wouldn't weigh on my conscience forever.

I wasn't afraid that God would punish me or anything because I just didn't believe in God.

I didn't want somebody else's blood on my hands though. I was human after all. I wasn't a killer.

But could I be? Could I end somebody else's life if it meant I would live? Could I do it if it meant Randy would live? Or Sidney? Or Tatum?

I knew deep down the answer was yes. It had to be yes. I couldn't let them die.

I looked over at Randy who was watching the road, eyes trained ahead.

This was the person who had helped me with so many things. He had made me realize how badly I wanted to make a comic series of my own and how much I loved art and music, and how I was just as big of a movie buff as he was. And I knew after this whole ordeal was over, if we both lived, he would help me mend the broken pieces of myself.

Because their was no way I would make it away from this as the same Cat I was before. I wouldn't walk away unscathed. I didn't even know if I would walk away from it at all.

Surely the fact that he was still here, taking care of me, was proof of his devotion.

In that moment I swore to myself that whatever happened to me, he would walk away. Randy would not die. I wouldn't allow it.

He glanced over at me and saw that I was looking at him.

"What's up?" He asked.

I shook my head in response. What was I supposed to say?

The silence was thick and heavy, and it suffocated me.

I reached forward, pushing my Alanis Morisette tape in and turning on the music player.

Loud music filled the car a moment later.

The best word to describe the music was comforting. It was familiar.

I knew the words to every song, but I couldn't bring myself to sing along. I loved this music, but it didn't get rid of the dark cloud that now hung over me.

His house was across town from the Police station, and it was a ten minutes drive. When we finally pulled into the driveway I just sat there, still listening to the music.

I knew Randy was watching me, waiting for me to make some move to get out.

Only I didn't.

With a sigh he unbuckled his seat belt and pushed the driver's door open, getting out.

He was at my side of the car in an instant, opening up the door and looking down at me with worried blue eyes.

"Look, Cat, it'll be alright. You'll make it through this. I know you will."

And then he took my hand in his and pulled me out, and I let him.

I let him envelop me in his arms and nuzzle my neck.

Yet, I doubted his words.

The doubt slid down my spine like some cold, icy thing.

Didn't the boyfriends in horror movies usually say something along those lines.

And on top of that he was the funny guy.

In short, Randy was screwed.

Or, at least he would be if he didn't have me. But he did have me, and I refused to let that happen. I refused to just lay back and let him die. He would not die. Not while I was still living and breathing.

And if I was going to die then I would be damn sure to take the killer with me.

I didn't tell Randy any of this though.

Instead I just tilted my head to the side, looking up at him, and smiled sweetly.

"I know," I said.

I only hoped he couldn't tell that I was lying.

I had been to Randy's house more times than I could count, but it never ceased to amaze me how busy everything was inside.

His little sister, Martha was usually working on some new project she started that she would never finish. Her room was always a mess with the new hobbies she would take up and then abandon. But she was always smiling and giggling. Really she was a sweet girl.

His parents had the same sort of energy and passion that there son had towards horror movies, only they directed theirs to their careers.

Johnathan Meeks, Randy's father, was travel agent, which meant he knew all about far off living room was practically dedicated to memorabilia he had collected from when he used to travel.

His mother, Helen Meeks, was a wedding planner. She loved the job too, because she genuinely believed that weddings were supposed to be a symbol of a couple's love and devotion to one another.

His parents were very interesting people who, as they constantly said, were very fond of me.

They were proud of their son too, despite teasing him all the time,

They were more than happy to let me stay at there house, which I was thankful for. After all, it was one less thing I had to worry about.

Now, I only had to worry about my mother.

I called around to the Local bars until finally I got Ed Davies at his bar 'Eddie's'.

Apparently my mother was attempting to do a rendition of Gloria Gaynor's "I will Survive".

Which confirmed my suspicion that she was drunk.

"Can you drive her up to the police station and see if they'll keep her there until this whole thing blows over?"

I asked, before realizing that he wouldn't know what 'this whole thing' was.

Thankfully he didn't press the matter, and only said, "Sure thing Catty," into the phone before hanging up.

Randy was watching me from the couch as I set the phone back down on the receiver and turned to him.

"Tired?" He asked.

"Very."

He smiled slightly and stood, offering his hand out to me which I gladly took.

I allowed him to lead me up the stairs to his bedroom where he offered me a shirt of his to sleep in.

I had stayed the night here so many times that it wasn't a big deal to his parents whether I slept in his room or not.

In fact I was over here so often that I had a toothbrush and toiletries in the bathroom.

Not that anyone really minded.

I changed quickly, before sitting on the bed.

It was a messy room, but that was to be expected. The walls were decorated with movie posters, and one wall had a shelf full of movies.

He had a television across from his bed with a VCR.

He would probably put a movie on for use to fall asleep to.

He looked at me to see that I was watching him, and he grinned, walking over to his movie shelf and pulling off one.

"You up for dinosaurs?" He asked, turning to me and holding up 'Jurassic Park'. I smiled.

It was my favorite movie besides 'A Nightmare on Elm Street', and would be oddly comforting to watch.

"Yeah…you know I'm always in the mood for a Jeff Goldblum movie."

"If you aren't asleep by the time this goes off we'll put on 'Independence Day', okay?"

I smiled up at him and nodded. He knew me so well.

We layed there in his bed, him absently playing with my hair as I watched to dinosaurs, eyes round.

By the time it was over, Randy was asleep, but I was still wide awake.

I looked at him with a sigh.

Somehow I doubted sleep would come.

I was woken the next morning by my phone ringing from the pocket of the shorts I had worn yesterday.

It was relatively loud, and I was worried it would wake Randy, but upon closer examination he was still passed out.

What I wouldn't give to be such a heavy sleeper.

I slipped out of bed and retrieved the phone staring at the caller i.d. again.

An Unknown Caller.

I should have been expecting this, I'm sure.

Suddenly my throat felt very dry and my heart was beating wildly in my chest.

What would the killer say? What would I say?

Would he threaten me again. Somehow I expected him to.

My breaths came out in bursts as I pressed my phone to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Catherine Rachel Grey, what the hell were you thinking?"

I let out a sigh as my mother's voice came through the phone, relaxing my tense muscles.

"Jesus mom. It's only you. Are you okay?"

"No! I'm not! I am in jail. Come get me out. Now."

"Mom," I said, trying to calm her down. "You'll be safe there. I'm not going to get you out. Not until this whole thing blows over."

"Cat…"

"Buy mom…" I closed my phone and sighed.

Everything was bad enough without my mom throwing a bitch fit.

I looked over at the bed to see that Randy was still asleep, his arm thrown over the pillow where I had laid minutes before.

I looked at the clock on my phone, before standing and padding over to the bed, placing a hand on his forehead.

"Hey, sleeping beauty. Get your ass out of bed."

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at me sleepily, a lazy grin on his face.

"Morning," he said with a yawn.

"Morning."

He frowned at me, reaching forward to ruffle my hair.

"Sleep at all last night?" He asked.

"A little. I'll nap in study hall…"

For a moment I felt like Nancy from A Nightmare on Elm Street, and that wasn't the most comforting thought.

'At least she lived at the end of the movie.'

Author's Note: Well, here it is. Chapter three of the story. I had tried to get it out quicker, but I have other stories that I have obligations to. But it is out, and moving along brilliantly, if I may say. The thing I'm trying to do with this story is give the characters quirks, and a past. Something besides Sid's mom dying a year prior to the events in the story. Cat doesn't exactly have a horrible past. Yes, her father left her mother, and her Uncle Henry died but this seemed normal. I did however want to show the turmoil that Cat felt in response to the murders, because we don't really see that in the movie. We don't see the thought process going through the characters' heads, which is to be expected because it is a movie. In all honesty, I enjoy writing for Cat, and luckily for me, I get to write for her three more times after this story. The amazing reviews I get for this story truly spur me on to write more. Honestly. I feel that this story is the epitome of my writing, and I'm not going to lie, I am proud of it so far.

MusicalPushover: I like that I can show Cat's emotions. I like that I can write through her thought process. I felt that, for the sake of the story, Cat needed to have a severe reaction to what was going on around her. She's almost been killed. Her best friend has almost been killed. Her classmates being killed. I mean to say that everybody just seemed to kind of shrug it off in the movie like, "So what if there's a killer running around gutting people. Let's party." That didn't seem entirely plausible to me. So, I decided that Cat would act a bit differently.

Samtastic: Thanks for the review. And I'll definitely be sure to look at the story!

KaidaThorn: Your review was probably the most unexpected. I had saw, on your Profile when I was looking for Beat Readers that you like horror movies. On top of that there are several more interests that we shared, and ultimately that's what made me want you to Beta my other story. I didn't expect you to read this story however. And on top of that you leave a simply amazing review. In the Scream movies, Randy was my favorite character, and when I saw his death scene is Scream 2 I cried. And I decided that he deserved to have somebody...and that he didn't deserve to die...