emma coffee sits in front of TIGHTLY FOLDED HANDS, fingers overlapping so as not to reach across and wrap themselves around noah’s neck. with each name on the monotone list, emma’s senses begin to overload. brooke’s PERFUME, still lingering in her bedroom; kieran’s LEATHER JACKET, a size too big, keeping her warm. jake’s shit-eating GRIN. audrey’s AUDREY. audrey, begging forgiveness. audrey, looking like emma’s childhood dog, head hanging low, guilty as all hell; the image forever cemented in her mind. and the blood and the blood and the blood.
emma blinks and takes a regrettable sip of her too-bitter, room-temperature coffee in an attempt to feel something else. ( she doesn’t. ) she has felt nothing but this ACHE for the past week. last friday, she had come home from work, slipped off her heels, grabbed a cupcake she’d been saving for her WILD FRIDAY NIGHT IN, and turned on the television. with the headline drop, the cupcake had fallen icing-first onto the floor. ever since, she’s felt both a NUMBNESS and a FEVER.
with her now free fingers thin and bony from a full week of LOST APPETITE emma traces circles on the worn wood of the tabletop. she gives a nod at the two middle-aged women hunched over teacups and scones. ❛ see those two ? they think that sluttly old maid daisy duval had not one child but TWINS, and with lakewood’s very own FRANKENSTEIN. ❜ a discreet point towards the cashier, sizing up every customer coming through the door. ❛ he thinks it’s a COPYCAT PAIR who can’t wait to SLAUGHTER me. ❜ emma leans back in her chair; there’s no PLAYFULNESS anymore. she turns and looks at the group of fresh-faced KIDS, all exchanging hushed whispers and worried looks. ❛ the new us, in time for the sequel, ❜ she mutters, turning back to noah, a new kind of DISGUST glistening in her eyes.
❛ you’re the NEW PIPER, right ? sans murder ? here in time just to get the latest scoop ? fine, but it’s theirs now. i washed my hands of it the day i went off to college. ❜ emma runs a hand through her hair, avoids noah’s eyes. ( LIAR, she thinks. you couldn’t wipe the stain after a life-long SOAK in the ocean. )
INNOCENT OBLIVION is present in features, gaze flickering downwards in an attempt to avoid hers in the heat of a coffee meetup that was shaping up to be immensely awkward. it was the first time in a long time that guilt had begun to creep up spine, blooming into mind. it had been something felt at the very beginning of his gradual transformation from loyal boy hero & sidekick to a name everyone was now aware of. writing the book had not been a fun process, despite presumed common belief. sitting in a darkened room with the only source of light being the illumination of his laptop screen as memories were recalled & typed up. they had softened over the years. there were things that he had not wanted to fully remember but it had all come back when telling the story. he can recall exactly what he felt when on the phone with riley marra, when she inhaled one last breath ; the words she had shakily uttered & his response. but he had not been able to print the very last thing said to him. it was too personal- something that belonged solely to him & had never been spoken to anyone else. their personal shared ownership of the stars would remain taken to the grave. it had become easier to remove all personal reminiscence & to focus on the facts. riley marra had been the third victim in the lakewood killings. ( she had been stabbed in the back twice before her leg proceeded to be slashed. the perpetrator disappeared from sight as she climbed atop the police station roof in an attempt to seek aid. she bled out before it could arrive. )
his mind goes through the names the same time she does. their interpretations differ. brooke maddox with golden tresses matted with blood. a white dress stained crimson as her shriek echoed off the auditorium walls. jake fitzgerald who had been the first survivor claimed when the murders had started up yet again. he cannot recall the smile the boy once had. only the blank stare & rotting mouth of his corpse upon that stage. kieran wilcox with all of his family residing in a cemetery & a demeanor like granite but crumbling inside. audrey jensen. the name no longer sounds familiar on the tongue. it feels foreign. the name of a stranger- someone once known. lies, lies, lies. when he had begged for the truth & had received it in the form of the person he thought was his best friend. he tries to not think about her anymore & sometimes accomplished days will pass without her entering his thoughts. but eventually she always does.
❛ god, i wish they served alcohol here -— noon is never too early for a drink. i think i’ve earned it. ❛ words are muttered, cup of coffee rather harshly clenched as a hasty sip is taken. the television in the forefront of the establishment is airing a story about the latest teenagers that were claimed by death in the small town of lakewood. a vulture-like reporter eager to feast upon the carnage asks the question on whether or not it is all happening again. she is not the only one wondering. residents surrounding the two seem to be huddled. overheard conversations do not appear to be light & carefree. people are scared. perhaps they should be. when his companion speaks, he does not necessarily want to follow where she is looking.
everywhere else, noah foster is a survivor. admired, respected, almost envied. but lakewood knows who he is & likewise. emma is not the only one of the two receiving wary looks. almost as if this is all their fault. eyes are closed tight for a moment & when opened glimpse the new youth. there is a girl with rosy red lips, sunshine blonde hair, & an aura of naivety surrounding her. final girl 2.0. another girl with an air of vapidness running throughout her core.brooke 2.0. so on & so forth. their legacy is left behind to be repeated. one generations tragedy passed down.
❛ you really think it’s a sequel? i’m thinking more of a remake. it makes sense, right? ten years after what happened to us history repeats itself. ❛ those kids over there still innocent with no idea what it was like to lose things & to truly lose your childhood. ❛ the only question is what role we’re going to be playing here. and i’m not piper, emma. not even with the morgue was i ever piper. contrary to common belief, i’m not here for the scoop as you so rightly put it. i want answers on what’s happening & i’m involved in this. aren’t we all? ❛
