Author's Note: Just a little plot I'm testing for an idea born from a dream. Polite feedback appreciated. Still working out the details.
"April 2022 marks 26 year anniversary since Woodsboro murders of '96!"
It made her feel icky just to write.
It came with the territory of working for the Woodsboro Times. Report about current events, no questions asked, and this was a current event. One the entire town gossiped about to this day. One even her antisocial girlfriend knew all about.
Vanessa lay sprawled out on the bed near her, head finding her way to lay in Lizzie's lap. Lollipop in her mouth, she gave a nod, taking it out momentarily to speak.
"You have my notes." Vanessa paused, looking up at Lizzie. "You have my notes?" She repeated. This time her tone seeking clarification. "Don't you?"
"Yes. I have your notes."
Lizzie smiled fondly. She touched her girlfriend's forehead, pushing some loose strands from her eyes before looking back to the bright, taunting computer screen.
"Remind me why I chose this story to write again?" Lizzie asked, rubbing her face.
"It was either this or the one about sports. Last I checked, you know nothing about sports."
"At least sports don't mess with my head. Not like this stuff does.." she looked back to the computer, rubbing her feet together where they hung off the bed. Nervous tics. She didn't know why real life horror stories like these made her uncomfortable. Watching something like the Saw franchise? No problem. Halloween? Whatever. But Stab? Thinking about how they were based in her town? It was unsettling.
And she was connected to it.
Which added to being unsettling.
Vanessa watched her for a moment in a silent pause. Lizzie noted she often did that. Almost like she felt she needed to always choose her words perfectly; always calculated, never without thought. It was as attractive to her as it could be intimidating to others.
"Why don't we take a break then?" Vanessa broke the silence, raising a hand up to close the laptop screen. She slowly pulled herself to sit up, pushing hair out of her eyes and sitting crosslegged.
She grasped both of Lizzie's hands in her own, giving the skin small, soothing rubs. Her squeeze was light, but just intense enough, for her girl to know how sincere she was.
Lizzie always loved the boldness about her.
"Everyone's already going to be talking about it. And you doing a report is not going to influence that - one way or another." Vanessa held her gaze, hoping her words could provide some comfort. Any comfort. More than what just her presence alone could give.
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Lizzie snorted.
"It's me saying you'll have to hear about it anyway. Hearing yourself speak about it isn't as bad as hearing it come from someone else's mouth. It's a psychological fact."
"Don't 'psychological fact' me right now." Lizzie countered, but her words held no venom.
"And you're guaranteed an A. I know all about this."
"I know. You practically lived it."
Vanessa's eyes narrowed. Chilling. No matter how long they'd been together, Lizzie still wasn't quite used to it. "That's not fair. I didn't know him. I wasn't even alive. I only know stories."
"I know.. sorry." Again, feet rubbing together. "You're hyperfixated on true crime.. so you know this stuff anyway. You're good with it." Lizzie knew a little boost to Vanessa's self esteem would do the trick. And it worked.
Vanessa gave her curly-haired girlfriend a warm smile, the ice melting from those previously narrowed brown eyes.
"That's right. And it doesn't hurt to have a little.. background knowledge." Again, with her delicately chosen words. The way she spoke, really expressed her words were always chosen special for you.
"Yeah, yeah." Lizzie could only smile back. Breathless.
"I can show you.. what else I have a little background knowledge on."
Vanessa leaned in. With a smirk, she enveloped her girlfriend in a kiss. It was sweet, but just bold enough, to serve as an attractive distraction. Very wanted, but a distraction all the same.
Lizzie was anxious. This was no secret. Her meds only did so much. And Vanessa Loomis, descendent of the notorious Billy Loomis, fell in love with Lizzie. Being naturally protective, and naturally possessive, they were a match made in heaven.
Except.
The fact their relationship survived a whole year with Lizzie being freaked out to true crime talk was still a mystery to the both of them. Opposites attract, no fucking kidding.
But they were supportive to each other. Vanessa always encouraged Lizzie's writing. Lizzie always encouraged Vanessa's passion for filmmaking.
They bonded over their trauma from growing up in the foster care system. And neither of them liked discussing their family ties. Which worked out perfectly.
A cell phone rang.
They pulled apart, eyes looking over to the lit-up phone screen to check the caller ID.
The name Mikayla flashed across the screen.
"Mick?"
Lizzie questioned aloud, reaching curiously for the phone.
"Could be the killer..." Vanessa trailed off, teasingly.
"You're not funny." Lizzie frowned. She looked down at the phone as it rang again, a sudden newfound anxiety coursing through her. Making her hands sweat. She pressed the green button and put the call on speaker.
"What's up, Mickey?"
"It's party timeeeeeee, please!" She sang on the other end of the line. You could practically hear the liquid in the liquor bottles she was likely clutching swishing back and forth over the phone. "Joel agreed we could invite some people over, so get over here before he changes his mind. It's birthday time."
Lizzie smiled fondly, relief flooding through her. Mikayla was such a kind girlfriend. Joel didn't deserve it. "We'll be there. Want us to bring anything?" She ignored Vanessa's look of wtf? and sat up from their makeout position, pulling on some boots that were near the foot of the bed.
"Just your cute selves. Maybe some harder stuff? We've only got a couple cases of beer here." Mikayla complained lightheartedly, matched by the indifferent grunt of her nearby boyfriend on the couch.
"You got it." Lizzie pulled on a hoodie, about to hang up.
"Oh and. Um. Chelsea's here."
An obvious sound of displeasure left Lizzie's lips, one Vanessa was curious about.
"Nothing else to do on a Friday night?" It was uncharacteristically snappy of Lizzie, but she couldn't help it. Chelsea, Mikayla's sister, always had it out for her and Vanessa for whatever reason. There were rumors it was jealousy... But Chelsea's only ever dated boys. So the jury was still out on that.
"Guess not." Mikayla commented in agreement. At least she sympathized, Lizzie noted.
"Fine. We'll see you soon." She hung up the phone, filling Vanessa in on the lovely news.
Vanessa gazed up at her from the bed, head slightly tilt to one side. Her hair framed her face perfectly. Picture perfect, as the camera savvy Vanessa would probably say.
"Hmm. And don't you have a deadline?" She reminded gently, with a hint of something stronger to her tone. Lizzie sighed, raising both hands to run her fingers through messy hair.
"Not till the day after tomorrow. I can afford a night of fun." She smiled and took one of Vanessa's hands in her own, giving the knuckles an encouraging kiss.
"Famous last words." Vanessa teased, reluctantly standing.
Lizzie went to the bathroom, phone in hand, to finish getting ready. She pulled open the cupboard below the bathroom sink, retrieving hairspray and a brush.
Before she could even start, her phone rang again.
Unknown caller ID.
The events of earlier temporarily gone from her distracted mind, she answered the phone. "Hello?"
"Hello."
A silent pause.
"Who is this?" Lizzie pressed.
"... I'm a friend of Mikayla's. I'll be at the party later. Was curious about who all was coming." The voice said back.
Lizzie frowned, thoughtfully. He sounded young, not so ominous but not entirely friendly either.
"Okay... But how'd you get my number?"
"Through Mikayla."
That could check out. Mikayla was pretty careless with disclosing private information. She once posted an instagram story, forgetting to blur out her door's address in the background.
"Fair enough. Well, can I ask your name?"
"I'll introduce myself when I see you there. It'll be more fun that way. Lizzie, right?"
"Yeah... Lizzie." Why did she clarify that? She could've facepalmed right then and there.
"See you soon." Click. They hung up.
Lizzie couldn't shake the weird feeling... the whole time she was getting ready...
... that she was being watched.