Almost a year had passed since the last batch of murders, and Samantha Carpenter was still waiting every day to hear of another attack. Every time she answered the phone, no matter which familiar name lit up its screen, her stomach clinched with the dread of hearing the familiar, seductive growl of Ghostface on the other line. Every time she stepped inside her apartment or out into the street, her body automatically tensed, expecting hands grabbing hold of her, the sharp bite of a knife's blade cutting into her flesh. She waited, she expected, she prepared…but it didn't happen. Each day passed, as normal as was possible for the descendant of not one but two serial killers, and each day, she and those she cared for continued to survive.
Not only survive- Sam's sister and friends were recovering, slowly, often painfully, but still moving forward in their healing. Everyone had been discharged from the hospital, although Chad and Gale had both spend nearly a month each in ICU, and all were now mobile, though Chad had a permanent limp and Gale's use of her left arm had become limited. Everyone who had needed to had completed physical therapy, and Tara, to Sam's surprise, had finally agreed to go to mental health counseling, something she was adamantly opposed to in the year before in favor of "moving on." So far it seemed to Sam that it was helping her; she seemed less angry, less reckless, even if she did sometimes come home from her sessions tearful and quiet. Sam had only been partly joking when she asked if she needed to have "words" with the therapist, possibly delivered via fist, but she saw the shift in Tara as mostly needed and positive, if uncomfortable for them to adjust to, and so she managed to refrain. Barely.
As for Sam and therapy- well, that had been put on hold, probably indefinitely. After her last experience, she wasn't sure she was open to sharing her story again and again with just any judgmental stranger, or whether it even benefitted her to try to explain and make herself vulnerable for someone who had not been through even a small part of her experiences. She attended the appointments with her new psychiatrist as scheduled and said just enough to continue to get her medications prescribed, she took the pills, and when flashes of Billy appeared in the mirror, Sam closed her eyes, counted to ten, and turned away. So far, he was never still there when she looked back. She still had flashes of time where her vision turned red, her body tensed with the desire to lash out, and vivid images of her hands, inflicting violence on others, crept into her thoughts, but just as with the Billy visions, Sam fought them back. She walked away, she breathed, and sometimes she spewed curses, but she didn't let herself give in. She couldn't.
Instead of therapy, drugs, or violence, she tried to complete some of the self-help workbooks Sidney had recommended, listened to ASMR videos, and played music loudly, screaming along with the words, sometimes with Tara joining in. She never had been one to like talking, but she tried, occasionally, to Tara, and sometimes with Sidney. It was easier somehow to talk to Sidney than to her sister, despite or maybe because of the physical distance of miles and the phone between them. Sidney was calm and understanding, matter-of-fact and not influenced by her own emotions, and her experience, though slightly different and far more extensive over the years than Sam's, was nevertheless close enough that her knowledge couldn't be denied. Sam might not always like Sidney's opinion, but she had grown to respect it, and she had yet to think of a time that something Sidney had told her had been off base.
Everyone was moving forward, moving on, and it was sometimes scary for Sam to watch- change always was, especially when you lacked control or knowledge of the future to come. But mostly it was good, really good, to see her friends focused and expectant in having a future to plan for.
Tara and Chad hadn't worked out long term in dating, but Chad was so good-natured that it was impossible for them to not remain friends afterward; hell, he lived without drama in the same apartment with the Carpenters and Mindy, with no more than a day or two of awkwardness between their breakup and the shift back to their former platonic interactions. Dating Danny long term hadn't worked out for Sam either, although she couldn't put words to why. He had done nothing wrong, and perhaps that was the problem; she was constantly waiting for him to show his "true" colors, to prove that he, like the many men that Sam and Sidney had known and been wrong about before, truthfully meant her harm and was playing the long game to get to the finale of her murder. Even as she knew she was wrong, that Danny was one of the rare "good guys" found in the midst of a hookup, Sam couldn't let things get any more serious. Maybe she wasn't ready yet, or maybe she still didn't quite believe, as Sidney and more annoyingly, Tara, suggested, that she was worthy of a relationship in which she could let herself be romantically loved. Whatever was the answer, it was harder for her to be friends with Danny than it was for Tara to be friends with Chad, and so he had been relegated to just another neighbor, somewhat further in distance than across the alleyway, since their move to the new apartment Gale had bought for them.
That had been one perk of having earned a place onto the apology list of a rich journalist turned author turned talk show host- a brand new and highly expensive apartment, large enough for the four of them and equipped with the most high tech security that Gale's money could buy. She had waved off Sam's protests dismissively, responding with what Tara had pointed out to be valid counter arguments.
"I can afford it, what I can't afford is to keep paying all the hospital bills over and over of the four of you constantly getting nearly killed by rooming with psychopaths who try to kill you. As long as none of you lose your shit enough to try to murder each other, I'm getting off cheaper this way, long run."
They all saw and spoke to Gale more often than they would have ever predicted; after visiting her often in the hospital during her slow recovery, they had bonded in the strange way of people who would never have chosen to hang out together, but had become so accustomed to it that not doing so eventually felt strange. At least once or twice a month, Gale had them over at her refurnished apartment or they invited her and sometimes Kirby over to theirs, sharing dinner, drinks, and far more arguments than Sam could keep up with. To Sam, Gale had become almost an adopted aunt of sorts, more of a mother figure in her own odd way than her own mother was, and in her own way, Gale was far more protective and supportive than she would have thought her capable of.
And as for her and Tara's biological mother, well, the last Sam knew, Christina was back in rehab again. She knew only because Christina called her, asking with abrupt awkwardness for her and Tara to come to family therapy day in her placement. Sam had barely had time to wonder how Christina managed to get hold of their apartment's unlisted number when Tara, hovering over her shoulder, snatched the receiver from her, answering in Sam's place.
"I'm sorry, Christina, but my sister and I aren't your family," she said smoothly but with a harsh, final undertone to her voice. "So I really don't think we're relevant to any therapy you might need."
With that, she jabbed the button to end the call with a harsh click, a savage and satisfied smile curving her lips. When she raised an eyebrow at Sam's stunned look, wordlessly defiant, Sam embraced her fiercely. She couldn't think of a moment she had ever loved her little sister more.
It was less than six months now until Tara and the twins would graduate college (a ceremony that Christina would most definitely not be invited to), and they were all well on their way to figuring out the next step in their lives and careers. Chad, ironically enough, had decided to become a physical therapist- maybe because, with all the services he had required, he now could almost consider their offices his second home. Mindy wanted to be a screenplay writer, although Sam thought she wasn't to be a very good one, considering that her wisecracks were rarely very funny in her opinion and she had failed at identifying the killers in each of the last rounds of murders, despite her assertion of her horror movie expertise. Tara wanted to be a graphic designer, and although she was private, even protective of her work, what she had allowed Sam to see had impressed her. She had always known her sister was talented at basically everything she set out at- and far smarter and more likeable than Sam herself could ever hope to be- but she hadn't realized that Tara was artistic and mathematically inclined as well. All of them were moving forward towards their future, towards their dreams, however improbable or unlikely they may be in finding success with them, and although Sam was proud of them, she sometimes felt a small spark of envy. They were only 22, and they were so much farther than she was.
"Life isn't a race, it doesn't matter how long it takes you to get to your finish line, just that you're satisfied with how you wound up there in the end," Sidney had told her once, but Sam found that easy enough for her to say. Sidney had graduated college, found a job in crisis counseling during the years that Sam was still working minimum wage at a bowling alley, and now was a successful author and the parent of two bright and happy little girls. Sidney might have had more than her share of obstacles to her finish line, but she seemed to have crossed it with far more ease and grace than Sam. Sam felt sometimes like she couldn't see her finish line in the distance even with the help of binoculars, maybe even a telescope.
Even Gale seemed to be turning a new chapter in her life. After her last attack and her prolonged recovery, she had received pressure from her network to "retire," complete with a generous severance package. As Gale told it- bitterly, and with a significant amount of swearing- they had tried to frame it as concern for her health and safety as a continuing public figure and possible target. The truth was, from Gale's perspective, that they no longer wanted her to be the face of their show when she was approaching sixty and needing to take medical leave for stab and gunshot wounds every other year. They now considered her to be more of a liability than an asset.
"But you're Gale Weathers," Sam had said incredulously, unaware that she was echoing the same words that Tara and Sidney had also spoken earlier. Gale had rolled her eyes with an impatient exhalation, scoffing even as she nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, apparently that means a lot less the longer I go without a working uterus. Fuck them, I'll take that money and run. They don't want me on TV? I'll scoop the shit out of them with my own damn show. Who even watches TV anymore? Everyone's on their phones, podcasts are where the real money's at."
And that was exactly what she had started up, almost the minute she was discharged from the hospital. She had set up a true crime podcast, narrated by herself, with each episode focused not only on the murderers but also the lives of each of the victims- a take that was not popular in most mediums, but was wildly popular with Gale's extensive gathering of information and dramatic way of sharing. Being Gale, she had started- with the permission of Sidney, to Sam's relief and surprise- with the life and murder of Maureen Prescott and working her way up to the victims of the Baileys. She had asked the surviving family members of each victim if they wanted to guest star on the podcast or at least submit memories and important information about their lost loved ones, and Sam had been honestly impressed with the care she had given in portraying each person as exactly that, a person- not at all the like the overblown caricatures in her books. She had only released a few episodes so far- the murders of Maureen, Casey Becker, Steven Orth, and Arthur Himbry- but each had been well reviewed and downloaded in high numbers across multiple platforms. Sam could tell that she had used much of what Sidney herself must have told her about her mother in Maureen's episode, and it had actually nearly brought her to tears to listen.
She hadn't yet decided on Gale's request that Sam guest star on at least some of the episodes, especially those involving Billy Loomis, Nancy Loomis, or Richie. As respectful as Gale had been of Sidney's memories, actually speaking for herself rather than handing words over for Gale to use as she saw fit felt like a whole different level of public exposure, and Sam had already had enough of that for one life time. She did look forward to the promised episodes of Kirby's guest starring- not as a victim, but as an FBI agent, giving profiling information on each killer and advice on self defense and survival skills against would be murderers.
Really, things had been calm, something close to normal in the lives of Sam and her friends and family for some time now, extended crew of Sidney, Gale, and Kirby included. Enough so that when Chad got it in his head that they needed to have a group holiday get together for New Years, it felt less like tempting fate for a massacre and more like it could actually be a good time.
The "gathering"- Sam, Sidney, and Gale all refused to refer to it as a party, under the suspicion that it could invite bloodbath chaos by the simple mention of such a word- took place at Gale's penthouse, as it had the most space and tightest security after her post attack remodel job. Kirby and Sidney both arrived the day before; Sidney, having had her Christmas with her daughters and Mark, chose to stay overnight for her visit in Gale's home, whereas Kirby, with her and Gale's sparkier relationship, chose to get a hotel. Sam and the others had offered up a bed or couch at their apartment, pointing out the sky high price gouging of hotels at New Years, but Kirby had declined, insisting she needed her space at least as an option if she wanted to have it. Sam could understand that, but she also didn't make enough money working at a coffee shop to have the luxury of making such a choice. She supposed FBI agents must make bank though, and perhaps she, like Sam, Tara, and the others, also got a percentage of pay off Gale's book sales.
The "gathering" had been calmer and more relaxed than Sam had initially anticipated- perhaps because, as Mindy perhaps not so jokingly pointed out, there were almost as many "elderlies" in the mix as there were of the younger generation. Sam wasn't quite sure where she and Kirby fit into, as far as age categories went. She certainly didn't feel old enough to be grouped in with Gale and Sidney, both whom were sometimes regarded by her as nearly motherly figures not solely due to their ages. She was closer in age to Tara and the twins, of course, but often felt far older than them in more ways than her actual age would imply. In spite of everything they had been through, the twins and even Tara seemed able to hold a lightness in their being that Sam couldn't quite imagine experiencing, let alone embodying on a regular basis. In that way, she felt closer to the older women, including Kirby- capable of laughing, smiling, and joking, but nevertheless not quite free of the heaviness of history always weighing at her back and lingering in the back of her thoughts.
They exchanged belated Christmas gifts with Gale, Kirby, and Sidney, also giving Sidney packages to bring home to Mark and her girls when she returned. Gale had provided a lavishly catered meal and plenty of alcoholic selection, and they spent most of the night sprawled around her living room, talking and drinking, catching up and enjoying time in each other's company not occurring due to an impending death threat on any. It was a rare occasion indeed, and Sam could tell that all of them (except maybe Mindy, who never seemed to overly analyze anything but movies) were cherishing the moments together.
They had ended up with Sam on a love seat, Tara curled against her side with her head on her shoulder, Mindy perched on one arm, and Chad stretched out on the floor, leaned against its back. Kirby, Gale, and Sidney shared Gale's couch, with Sidney in between them perhaps as a buffer, Gale just tipsy enough- or perhaps relaxed and comfortable in the other woman's presence enough- that she occasionally brushed limbs with Sidney when she moved and had her shoulder almost constantly pressed into Sidney's, in spite of the few inches of space she had to move away. The Time square ball had dropped, with everyone toasting to the new year, and Chad giving a chaste kiss on the lips to Tara and friendly kisses on the cheek to Sam and Mindy. He had offered the same to the other women, all who turned him down in various manners- Kirby with an arched eyebrow and a smirk, Sidney with smiling amusement, and Gale with definitive and vehement refusal. Sam had noticed, though, that when Sidney offered hugs to Kirby and Gale in place of kisses to bring in the new year, neither woman had turned her down, and Gale's returning embrace was especially tight and sincere.
It was Chad, of course, who brought up New Years Resolutions. Most of the women had tried to dissuade him, with Mindy actually booing him and Kirby and Gale both making faces of disgusted disdain almost mirroring each other inadvertently. Chad was insistent though, his eyes bright with both the influence of alcohol and his enthusiasm for the tradition he proclaimed every bit as necessary as an exchange of affection to bring in the new year.
"Come on, guys, we have to, it's bad luck not to!" he declared, so earnest that Sam smiled in spite of herself.
"You've been stabbed 10 times and survived, and you haven't figured out that your balance of good and bad luck is pretty fucked up?" Kirby asked with a quirk of her lips, causing even Gale to smirk in spite of herself.
"Exactly," he responded, not seeming to fully comprehend exactly what Kirby was implying. "We've had some pretty awful luck over the past few years, and some really great luck too, because here we all are, right? The core four! And…uh, you ladies," he said awkwardly, nodding to the women on the couch, as Sidney smiled somewhat affectionately and Kirby and Gale rolled their eyes.
"The legacies," Mindy supplied, to which he nodded quickly.
"Right, legacies! We're here, and we're together, so let's keep that ball rolling, you know? Come on, it can't hurt, just say one thing you want to do this year. Just one!"
"You know what, why not," Sidney humored him, giving both Gale and Kirby gentle but pointed nudges to secure their cooperation. "I'll even start off. This year, I'll do my best to be truly grateful and present with every day that I get with the people I love. Starting now, and going into next year."
Tara awwed audibly at that, squeezing Sam around the waist, and Sam squeezed her back, her chest slightly tight. She had spent years doing the opposite of this, and Sidney's words were a good reminder to never let herself withdraw and fall back into that level of lost again.
"Right on, that's what I'm talking about," Chad approved, giving Sidney a warm smile. "This year, I'll get back to eighty percent of my best dexterity and improve my run time by at least a minute."
He turned his gaze to Tara, who furrowed her brow, thoughtful.
"This year I'll graduate and start my life as an adult, working something other than minimum wage. No offense, Sam," she said apologetically, patting Sam's knee, as Mindy snorted and elbowed Sam at her words.
"Okay, Film Freak Frannie, what's your amazing plans then? Last I checked, Blockbuster was all shut down and Redbox doesn't take applications, where does that leave your future career options?" Gale snapped, her blue eyes flashing in Mindy's direction. She wasn't a very demonstrative woman typically, but it was in moments like this, when her fierce, protective nature was directed towards her, that Sam understood that Gale truly had come to care for her in her own way.
Unbothered by her shade, Mindy grinned, stretching her arms over her head as she answered. "I'll make my first full length, critically acclaimed horror movie. Of course."
"Of course," Kirby and Gale said in entirely sarcastic tones and also near perfect unison. They glanced at each other a bit uneasily over Sidney and looked away- just as they always did every time they "accidentally" connected just a bit too much. Sam hid her smile as Chad turned his attention to Gale.
"Gale?"
"I'll try not to get the attention of any murderous psychopaths," she quipped, rolling her eyes again. "But if I can't achieve that, then I resolve to shoot the motherfucker in the head before he can stick a knife in me one more time."
Everyone laughed at that, even Kirby and Sidney, and when Chad's gaze turned to Kirby, she dragged out the focus directed her way, taking a long pause and letting a mischievous smile play at her lips before she answered.
"I guess this year I'll introduce people to my girlfriend."
It took several seconds of stunned silence before her words sunk in. Then there was an explosion of Mindy yelling out, "I KNEW IT! MY KILLER IDENTIFICATION MAY FAIL ME, BUT MY GAYDAR NEVER DOES!" and a flurry of congratulations throw in Kirby's direction, along with a squeeze around the shoulders from Sidney and excited pats on what part of her that they could reach from Tara and Chad. Kirby blushed a little, but held her head high, refusing to provide any more details in spite of the demands thrown at her to do so, and eventually Sidney tactfully shut everyone down, focusing the attention back to Sam.
"We haven't heard from Sam yet. What do you want to do this year, Sam?"
Sam had been dreading this. She didn't like the focus on her for any reason, especially when it came to personal questions. She shifted her weight, the small amount that she was able with Tara squished against her, and averted her eyes, weighing her options.
The truth was, she did have plans for this year, big ones. And eventually, if they did fall into place as she hoped, they would be known to everyone present. Her dilemma now was whether or not to share those plans or to give herself more time, to throw off the question with something light and only partly true.
Sam had always been good at keeping secrets. She had done so for a full decade, after finding out the truth about her father. But keeping a secret out of shame and keeping one out of self-conscious fear felt different. Tara had told her last year that she didn't want to be afraid anymore, and her little sister proved it every day, living her life to the fullest in spite of all her physical and emotional scars. Sometimes Sam was sure that Tara was braver than she could ever be.
It was Tara, in the end, who nudged her into taking the risk.
"It's okay, Sam, you don't have to share anything that you don't want to," she said softly, giving Sam's side a light pat. "You can just say you'll have a good year, because we're all going to this year, right?"
Sam looked down at her little sister's dark gaze, soft and earnest and focused on her, seeming to know her discomfort. For Tara, she would do anything. Even make herself vulnerable, a feeling Sam hated more than any other.
"No, I do have something I'm hoping to do this year," she said.
She could feel everyone's eyes turn to her as she spoke, expectant, and she took a deep breath, sitting up a little taller and squaring her shoulders. It was again mostly to Tara that she spoke, although her voice was loud enough and steady enough to be heard by the others in the room.
"This year…I'm hoping to go back to school. To get into college."
There was a silence for a moment as the room digested this information, and Tara was the first to speak, her eyes lit up, voice bright with excitement.
"Oh, Sam! You're going to get your GED?"
And there it was. The part Sam had really been holding back, for fear of the pity or lack of surprise she would receive had she failed. For the past year she had told no one of her nights studying behind the counter at the coffee shop, cramming in what she could in between busy shifts. She had come home late not because she had a later shift, but because she was staying at the library to study longer. And many nights she had stayed up like a teenager, not because of nightmares or inability to sleep, but because she was studying in secret while her sister and roommates slept.
Had any of them known what she was doing, they would have been excited and encouraging, offering her help and advice, and Sam couldn't have handled that, would have felt more pressure and more stress. This was something she had needed to do for herself, entirely, and in the end, well…
"I already got my GED," she said quietly. "I got it last month. So now I just need to figure out what colleges to apply to and get started."
There was another brief silence before the room exploded with exclamations of shock, excitement, and congratulations. Sam was immediately overwhelmed with what felt like twenty arms engulfing her in hugs and pats on whatever body part they could reach, along with a thousand voices offering suggestions and support. But it was Tara's voice, close to her ear, as her sister twined her arms more tightly around her waist, to the point of practically climbing into her lap, which Sam heard above the others.
"I'm so, so proud of you. And I am so, so happy that I get to call you my sister."
Sam squeezed her back, her chest tight with the complicated emotions her sister's words invoked. She had always felt that she was the lucky one to have Tara, that Tara was the one person in her life who mattered above all others. She had not always been the sister that Tara deserved, or the sister that she wanted to be to her. Even now, she privately felt that all her efforts could never quite match up to the level of what Tara should have in her. But she tried, every day she tried, and Tara's pride in her meant that all her effort was worth it.
"That's wonderful, Sam," Sidney said sincerely, when the flurry of voices had died down enough that her calmer words could be heard. "You earned this."
There was a general murmur of agreement, and then Gale spoke decisively, her head inclining in a nod with her words.
"I'll pay for you to go. Tell me where you want to go, show me the acceptance letter, and I have you covered."
Sam's eyebrows flew up at this, and she gave a faintly incredulous laugh, blinking at the woman's quite serious expression. "Gale, do you have any idea what college tuition looks like now? In New York City, at that?"
"Probably," Sidney said with a smile, shaking her head. "She researches every single book in detail, I'm sure the price of colleges came into her studies at some point."
"No, no way, I can't let you do that," Sam protested, still shaking her head. "You already paid for our apartment, I can't let you pay for my college education too!"
"I have money, not a lot of people beyond myself to spend it on, and you work at a coffee shop," Gale said bluntly, leveling her sharp gaze Sam's way. "I can, and I will."
When she put it that way, it was hard to argue. Still, Sam opened her mouth to continue to do so, until Tara slyly nudged her side.
"Wait, Sam, don't be so hasty," she said with a smirk. "Don't forget her last book. People stalking you and calling you a murderer, plus three people actually trying to murder you, that probably is worth the price of a college degree, you know?"
"Good point," Sam decided, as the twins and Kirby broke into laughter. "You know what, Gale, I accept. You pay, and the slate is wiped clean."
"What? I thought the slate was wiped clean when I paid your medical bills and your apartment!" Gale said with true hurt, gesturing at the four across from her, as Kirby doubled over laughing harder and Sidney patted her back.
"I'm pretty sure she's kidding, Gale. Mostly. But probably not about the money."
As the group all began to talk at once, comfortably speaking over each other, arguing and laughing without any true animosity, Sam settled back again into her love seat, leaning her head against her sister's with a exhalation of relief. The pressure in her chest had eased with her confession, and she reflected back on the decision she had made, the year to come.
She had never thought that she would have a real chance to have an education, that she had fucked it up so much she could never go back. She had been thrown early into adulthood by her own poor decisions, limited to minimum wage jobs and making a living rather than thinking about what it was she might actually want in her life. When her focus had shifted to Tara, she had still been stuck in the situation of earning a living, supporting herself and her sister while her sister pursued her own dreams and education, and of course, there was always the lingering and genuine concern of protecting Tara's safety.
Taking this step now, towards a different future for herself, meant taking a step away from Tara, focusing on herself and her own interests and desires. This was something different and new to Sam, something she hadn't truly allowed herself to do in over ten years, since her discovery of her true parentage. It felt scary and strange, but also oddly relieving. For the first time, she had developed enough feelings of safety and security to begin to move on, to be able to have the luxury to decide what kind of adulthood she wanted, what she might want her life to look like and what type of person she wanted to be. She could make choices instead of just reacting and adjusting to what happened. She could allow some of the darkness that had always lingered over her to lighten, just a little, or at least to take the chance to see if that lightening was a possibility.
A year ago, Tara had looked her in the eyes and told Sam to let her go. Sam could never truly do that, not entirely, but this was another step forward in doing so. She was turning further in the direction of letting Tara go- but in doing so, she was letting go of so much more along with her, and opening her arms to the possibility of taking in other things. Better, brighter things.
Sam closed her eyes, her lips curving into a slight smile. She didn't know what the year to come would bring, but for the first time in over ten years, she looked forward to finding out.
End