Note: I'm aware that some, possibly most, will not read the story forward due to their projection of what a Scream movie is. Be honest – the turn of events with a main character are controversial.
Chapter 4. The name Carpenter
Closely after midnight. Some examinations of objects are conducted with a clear goal in mind; others – instill thrill to someone by the nature of the unknown future.
"It… is… interesting."
A slow turn of the examining object is enacted; eyes glitter with excitement.
"To think someone could take such a… weak masterplan and make it a cult is… unbelievable."
A brief pause manifests itself. The emotional ambiguity residing within the person's psyche twists around itself, never coming to a stop.
"Hah!... A funny connection. You helped me Laura. Helped me to see the beauty of this play."
A menacing look behind the back.
"She may have evaded tonight, but she won't make it to the next week."
The object is swiftly concealed, the person turns around and casually walks away from the hot spot.
Meanwhile, at Sam's apartment. If one was attentive in the sphere of hearing, then he or she could overhear a male hyping up something much to the annoyance of the others. The sound gets increasingly louder until a key is heard entering a lock.
"…All I'm just saying is that we gotta be confident in ourselves."
The other enterers notice an impeccably still Quinn, sitting on the couch in the living room.
"Quinn. Hey. We've just…"
"We have a problem, guys."
The tone instantly brings forth the idea of unpleasant news. The sitting female cautiously, patiently shifts her sight to the recently arrived ones.
"You really don't want to miss this."
Everyone standing had locked their dread, grimness away in a mental cell; predictably, the female's statement demolishes the lock & negativity retakes a dominant position over positivity. Very few could have resisted such a transition; the closeness of the cruelties, their indisputability creates extra powerful tension within the psyche, unprecedently massive amplitudes.
"What the…?" – the male wonders, expresses publicly.
The stop occurs due to Quinn increasing the volume which leads to the reporter continuing louder:
"… And though we don't have concrete information about the way she died, we can still confirm the overarching fact. That the dead body is Laura Crane, a young, aspiring female professor of Blackmore University."
The close proximity of loss, especially of a person who one has interacted with during the same week, stuns the trio of partygoers. Ears completely tune out the different origin sounds; attention jolts away from the outside world into the inner world.
Recent progression of information travel led to a more thorough knowledge of the Human psyche; such refining is double-edged – it can manifest as a blessing or a curse. A certain aspect of it wrapped around the quartet. Traumatically, the sense is a resurfaced one for some, as an enraged bull obliterating the plasters, façade of normalcy in respect to the past. To be fair, the absurdness, which is being felt by the group, is a natural, unavoidable result. Why? Not difficult to grasp. When most of the upbringing in 'Western World' attempts to paint the canvas of life as a bright, encouraging landscape, preparation for the inevitable tragedy of it shatters the previous mindset and forces people to make crucial decisions. In a way, one could easily attribute this to a stiffening, discouraging of negative emotion. Cynics would hyperbolize it to emotional warfare/censorship.
"Well that's really bad."
Several minutes had been passed before the male cracks the ice and semi-confidently sits on the opposite end of the couch, where Quinn has positioned herself.
"Tara heard?" – a female inquires.
"Yeah."
"She's in her room?"
"That's where I saw her go."
2 of the 3 recently arrived with amazing confidence conclude on the main reason why their cared person acted the way she did; seeing as the information is transmitted through merely eye contact, a clue to a specific moment involving the 3 of them in the past automatically bursts.
Seconds pass. The male calculatedly knocks on a door, even when it is opened. In the space, which he know can see, a person is sitting in the middle of the bed, calves confidently hanging over the ledge, maintaining a fairly healthy posture. Judging by the physical characteristics, the person in question is of female sex. The orange-yellow lighting mixture sways more to the side of yellow in this particular area.
"Tara… Can I come in?"
The addressing – insanely gentle.
"Don't see why not." – she answers, bravado, a stoic stance protruding outward.
Assessing the situation, he carefully walks in the room and closes the door behind him in the same vain; obviously, this creates wonderful privacy for the duo.
"Look, Tara."
A couple of steps are taken.
"About my behavior at the party…"
Now the male is almost touching the bed.
"…I just wanted to…"
"Don't, Chad."
Directly after halting the explanation, she slowly, a bit reluctantly, disappointedly shifts her face to an angle where the duo can lock eyes at each other. Two aspects – emotional turbulence, lack of a clear way forward – imprint on Chad's mind. Also, this exchange demystifies the atmosphere, feeling of the room; anxiousness rises to the main role.
"I'm pretty sure you were just trying to keep me safe."
"Yeah… That was my idea."
"It just came at the… wrong time."
Where he attempted to lighten the situation, she went in the opposite direction.
"Not really sure a 'wrong time' can ever be for someone being protected."
"Oh no… It can." – Tara retorts with a maniacal, disturbing and zestful grin.
Naturally, this leaves a mental note in the male's mind. A wise move is not underestimating an event which is pointing in both the positive and negative directions in terms of personal development.
Quite unexpectedly, Chad presses forward, attempting to sit down next to Tara; the latter is amused, enthralled enough by this action to allow its finishing.
"So,…"
The duo are now both sitting on the same bed, eyes caressing each other. Such a transition maybe a hit towards mutual care that encapsulates intimacy.
"…Do you wan to follow up or should I be forceful?"
"Hah!"
A somewhat terrifying rise in genuine emotional expression.
"There is no need, Chad."
In a few seconds, her face reshapes once again. Yet, this is the 1st time where such enactment pleases the male; possibly involving a return to the casual, recognizable look.
"I know the potential damage that my actions at the O.K.B. party might have caused."
"And yet…"
"And yet I can't say I hated the way I acted."
She points her eyes a sizeable amount downward, though retaining eye contact.
"My time here in New York has been far from great."
Chad is acute enough to grasp the clear dissatisfaction with life. Therefore, his decision to create an even more warm, caring environment should surprise no one.
"I know that the past year has not gone the way you planned. Like – at all."
A moderately fast placing of a palm on her further shoulder.
"But we'll pull through."
The female raises her eyes back up, shows a half smile and curiously asks:
"What makes you so sure?"
"Easy."
A wide smile appears.
"Because I know you're a fighter."
Miraculously, this triggers a complete emotional turnaround for Tara – the strive to live, experience more has reintroduced itself. She even gushes, cannot stop from cracking her voice.
"Yeah. That's who I am."
For the next short period of time, both of them share jokes, laughs, nonchalantly analyze the events of this evening's party. Yes, they were being biased, heavily lenient on positivity. Sadly, these occurrences are a natural part of Human life, given its fragility, multilayered implications. Sometimes critical, pedantical thinking can be extremely more detrimental than beneficial to people. Lastly, this alleviation of dread, trepidation from the female's psyche, even for a short period of time, creates a new landscape. In it or on it, the mutual care, which the duo shared previously, flourishes at new highs, instilling a pulsating strive for intimacy between them in their respective subconscious.
Shortly after. The affiliates reunite in the living room; naturally, the occupiers of said space angle their attention at the duo.
"Feeling better, T?" – one of the female asks in an admirably compassionate tone.
"To some degree."
"That's great news."
Another female expresses joy with her face.
"Well,… it looks like we'll have to be cautious this night." – Chad mentions.
"I understand where you're coming from, but we need not worry."
"Why not?"
"Because we're all safe here, Tara." – Quinn replies.
Be it a truism of reality, but the sudden realization of the statement's falsehood incites a rise of fear between each member of the group. Never underestimating closeness's worth to a Human being – a useful quality.
About 01:00. The police force are surveying another place in the city on the weekend before Halloween, just this time the dispatch call/reason for their presence is of different nature than the 2 prior ones. Obviously, sirens are flashing again, noise level is higher than optimal.
"So…"
Someone walks over to a standing officer.
"…what did the witness state?"
The officer swiftly flips back the cover of a notebook over some words (an old fashioned method), then points a pen to the left of the face.
"That he saw a person getting surprise attacked from the back and probably being sedated."
"Why probably?"
"Distance, Erik."
The top of the pen jolts at a different direction.
"The group he was with was standing there. Add in the time of day and fireworks going off and it all makes complete sense."
"Most likely the fireworks were ignited as a distraction for the surprise attack."
"Calculated move."
"Indeed."
Erik walks over to the marked spot where the kidnapping took place, bends his knees & methodically overviews the close proximity around it. An inkling towards the 3 horrific acts being related in a tangible manner manifests itself in no time; not that the person harbors an idea to ever voice it to someone. The public servant with a notebook slowly eliminates the distance between them.
"This place, the manner, the fireworks – all of it points to an extremely pragmatic, calculated approach to the situation."
"He or she ran a simulation in the mind."
"Probably more than once, Jeff."
A normal stance and eye contact is reestablished.
"Did you arrange a trace on the cellphone of the victim?"
"Since her ID is missing, we had to go around that crucial detail with a rundown of people talking on the phone at the witnesses' call time in the near vicinity."
"And?" – Erik asks, curious, intrigue seeping through the face.
"The results should be done by now."
Expectedly, the male pulls out his phone and calls a particular person; a line is swiftly created.
"Hey. Jeff said that the info on calls originating on this street prior to abduction."
"Yes. We've got the run-through."
"Great. What's the closes one to my current location?"
"The closest one was a conversation from a phone whose owner is Sam Carpenter."
Stunned would be the most accurate state for the male detective; trepidation explodes to such an extent that even several fingers begin to vibrate. Only one logical explanation for this – the abducted person shares some type of personal connection with the crime solver.
"Thanks. Me & Jeff will be back soon."
"Understood, Detective Bailey. Safe travels."
The connection ends. The male duo's minds are coursing through distinctively separate landscapes: one's is restrained, calm, harmonious, the other's is steamy, vague, terrifying. Since both are operating on a high frequency, facial distinction can occur. Seconds pass before Erik loudly exhales, lower his eyes, voice and says:
"We've got information on who the person is."
"Alright. But why are you so bewildered?"
Eyes come back up, sternness makes an appearance.
"The person's name is Sam Carpenter."
Due to the way he experienced this clarification, his mind is quick to react and launch itself at the past as if it was a student rushing through pages of report cards for cheating purposes. His colleague merely stands there, waiting for some type of a response.
"That name sounds… eagerly familiar."
"Hah."
A second deep breath.
"Remember the slaughter fest of Woodsboro last year?"
The decibel level drops in half; Jeff's eyes widen, severity enters the emotional sphere.
"She's the surviving girlfriend of one of the serial killers."
"Yeah. That's not all."
It takes little time for the other police force member to figure out the implication. Needless to say, the duo adopt a vastly more proactive approach to the situation at hand; might be a case of telepathically transmitting the 'all 3 events are connected' viewpoint. Certainly the fact of this one being a calculated grabbing of someone rather than a killing does not aid matters. The night loses all of its momentum and becomes a snail.
Meanwhile.
"Oh God! Oh God!" – Tara expresses loudly.
The female looks distraught, intensely concerned: chaotic, disjointed marching back and forth, heightening and lowering of breathing, body shaking glimpses. Obviously, this pushes her back to the group's spotlight.
"Calm down, T. This panicky walk's not going to help anyone." – a female states, now leaning onto the backend of a sofa with her thighs.
The addressed spins around and retorts:
"She is my sister."
The other members acknowledge a stream of vex; new tactics arise as a consequence to it.
"We care about her too, Tara. Yet, we can't really be sure…"
"Sure of what, Chad?"
Annoyance does not appear to be diminishing.
"I'm sure what my brother is implying will anger you."
"Then please…"
A mean narrowing of the eyes.
"…Let him continue."
Another reshaping of the group's relationships, who one is highlighting as the central figure of this tension filled discussion. In essence, one could categorize them into 3 parts: the overly, extensively worried, the cautiously, rationally concerned and the mixture of the previous 2. Given the outrageously recent altercation between the 1st two, they had a favorable stage.
"Look, Tara."
Quinn slowly, methodically arrives at a normal stance.
"I'm pretty sure that you and Sam are at odds with each other after something that happened at the party. The fierceness of you two, unwillingness to backdown to each other boiled over into something of a explosion. Am I wrong?"
A loosening of the particular sight, forward bending of the right knee; consequently, this leads to a more expressive posture than before.
"No, but it is a feud between us too."
"It's not that simple, T."
"Yeah. It involves all of us. We do all live here together." – Chad adds.
The blatantly drained female, furthest from any member of the group enacts a subtle, subdued overview of their facial expressions; the destructive side of her subconscious is tastefully looking for any disingenuousness. The orange-yellow tint from the lights maintain a dual edged approach: one part is aiming towards chaos, the other – towards order.
At least 15 minutes forward.
"… What about her?"
"I have a certain connection with her." – someone voices with visible reluctance.
"Define 'certain', Erik."
Looking from the side, the thruster of the dialogue seems unfazed up to this point.
"She rents an apartment where my daughter is staying."
Instantly after receiving the information, the relaxed person's eyes subtly transition; sternness engraves itself into their outer ring.
"Our victim – Mis Carpenter – lives with your daughter?
"Yes. And there are several more inhabitants, none more crucial than her younger sister Tara."
Amazingly, this turns out to be the ending of the conversation; no pleasantries are exchanged at the end. Naturally, the acute, pedantic ones begin their search of reasons without any hesitation. Not really a surprise, given our accustomedness to politeness in the 'developed world'. Going back to the discussed duo, both are feeling an irking, itching severity about the future in constant growth. No doubt – neither would miss the opportunity for sleep if their work was not the road block to it. The person, who referred to Sam so elegantly, respectfully, raises his or her attentiveness, since the lead up to this current situation is layered in cracked pavement. The morally ambiguous would welcome the current mind pondering. Main reason – no distaste for the entire possibility spectrum; intriguing callousness, malevolence could be traced in the psyche. Clearly, this year's October festivity is anything other than smooth sailing.