Sidney lay in her hospital, numerous tubes attached to her body. The machine beside her beeped annoyingly, though in her unconscious state she could not hear it. Beneath the overbearingly loud sound of machinery Sidney's heart beats, faintly. The large wooden door to her room was closed, visiting hours were long since over, but these were special circumstances. Dewey had made his way to the conscious of the Prescott family: Jill Roberts.
Dewey approached Jill's bed cautiously, taking in her bruised and battered form. The scratches on her face only reminded him of everything he and the other survivors had endured in the repeated murders. He wished that he'd been quick enough, smart enough, to stop the killing sprees before they could break into another generation. He took his hat off, leaning his arm against the rail on the hospital bed.
She shifted in her bed, directing herself slowly back into consciousness. She was eager to confront Dewey, to spew more lies to him, to further victimize herself. She had to continue building her new reputation as a poor victim, a hero; the new Sidney Prescott, after all. She pressed her face into her pillow gently before looking up to Dewey with her tired, worn brown eyes. If only Dewey knew that her exhaustion wasn't due to the so-called attack on her life, but the self-directed brutal killing of her friends.
Oh how she wanted to speak vivaciously, just to finally talk about her achievements in not only the murder spree or the ultimate betrayal of Charlie, but how well she had played her family and closest friends. She had done everything right and all of her well-placed effort was finally going to pay off. She'd finally be famous. Get those precious fans that she always desired.
And there sure as Hell would be no more talk of Sidney Prescott above her.
Dewey nodded along, obviously believing the traumatized girl as she lied blatantly through her teeth. He could see the exhaustion not only in her eyes but also in her face. She had the beginnings of dark rings under eyes, the same that the three survivors had worn since the beginning. He couldn't blame her for being restless with the murders going on. Damn, if only he could've stopped them.
Jill kept her comments short, fighting herself not to give away anything. With all of the smooth lies that she had told recently, it was hard not to be cocky. As she spoke of her being a survivor alongside Gale, she nearly slipped up and mentioned the "matching stab wounds" they shared. It was a close call for her, but she noted it as a reminder to monitor what she says. Other than the near slip-up, she'd told Dewey more than enough to fit herself into the role of a poor victim, had she not already been in it.
Dewey just frowned at her as she spoke, knowing all of the horrors she had faced in confronting the killer and seeing so many people close to her die.
"And Jill, it's close right now, but Sidney's alive."
While Dewey smiled hopefully, Jill nearly lost her facade. All of the work she had put in, was almost thrown away in a glare of pure, unaltered rage. She had followed every step in her tedious and demented plan but somehow, Sidney fucking Prescott was still breathing. Dewey seemed to notice the shock in her eyes so he explained that the situation was "touch and go," and that there was a possibility that Sidney may not remember anything when she would finally wake up.
To this, Jill looked away, avoiding on contact with Dewey to conceal her emotion. It was only a moment before she looked back with tears generated by anger and frustration, but displayed as fear and hope for Sidney's survival.
"I'm so glad she's gonna be okay."
"Me too, Jill. Me too." Dewey said as he patted her carefully on the shoulder. He checked his watch casually, noticing it had been awhile since he left Gale in her room. He quickly reassured Jill and reminded her to get more rest before leaving to return to his wife. He glanced back before exiting, and saw Jill reposition herself on the bed, easing herself into slumber.
When Dewey made his way back to Gale she was sitting upright, eager to talk to him about how Jill was doing. Her instinctive reporter mentality craved more information on all that had happened. He told her about Jill's comments about writing a book together on their survival in this round of killings and to that Gale simply nodded. She wore a sad smile on her face, thinking about the potential of another book. If only it hadn't taken another tragedy.
She could see the sadness in Dewey's eyes when he talked to her about Jill and Sidney, even though he kept his tone hopeful. She could hear the way he subtly blamed himself for some of the murders and wished she had a better way to comfort him. She wished that her go-to "Turn it the fuck off" tone and verbiage would be enough for Dewey to take the blame off of himself and place it solely on the killers, but she knew better. It would take time, but Dewey would move on. For now, she rested and kept Dewey close.
Sidney wasn't as well off as the other survivors. In her two stab wounds she'd had some extensive internal damage and bleeding that the doctors tried to fix, though would not know the success of it until it healed more. For now, it was just on her and her body to pull through.
Not far from Sidney's room, Jill tore the various tubes and wires out of herself, not caring what their purpose may be. She had a mission. Jill wandered carefully down the hall, peering around corners cautiously to avoid being seen. The last thing she needed now was to get caught sneaking around the hospital. Eventually she found Sidney's room when she peered into the window of a door only a few down from her own.
Sidney was unconscious in her hospital bed, lying with pale skin and sweat just above her brow. Jill hoped she was having nightmares. She watched observantly as small breaths were taken by Sidney and she listened to the obnoxious hum of machinery that aided Sidney in her survival. Oh, what she would give to turn it all off. To make Sidney suffer silently while the only two remaining people she loved sat in another room, oblivious to her dying.
But that was only a wish, a future problem.
She knew she would have more time. She needed to think before she acted. She could not throw away everything she had done so far. She couldn't. But the desire to kill Sidney was overwhelmingly powerful. There she was, unable to defend herself and no one around to rescue her last second. It was the perfect opportunity, without the consideration of explaining how it happened.
Jill placed her hand on the cold metal of the door handle and opened it. She stepped inside and sat in a chair beside Sidney. That was too much. Being in such a close vicinity of Sidney the Great pushed her farther over the edge than perhaps she'd already been. She had to kill Sidney Prescott. Right now. To Hell with waiting.
She went for a direct attack, opting to strangle the life out of her. Her hands aggressively wrapped around Sidney's throat and tightened. It wasn't instant, but it didn't take long for Sidney to wake up and begin struggling. For being as weak as she was, Sidney was ready to put up a fight (I guess five previous murderers do that to a person). Sidney kicked and squirmed, fighting to break free from Jill and obtain oxygen for her burning lungs. She used her right arm to hit Jill in the face and then press against Jill's eye.
It was just enough to weaken Jill's grasp. Sidney took a quick, uneven breath as she struck a punch on Jill's cheekbone. Sidney rolled herself from off of the bed and onto the floor, trying to form an escape plan or fight strategy. There was a slim chance she'd be able to outrun Jill in her condition without one Hell of a fight. As she landed, her entire body shook and the pain from her stab wounds radiated throughout her. She tried to yell for Dewey but was interrupted as Jill launched forward at her. Jill shoved her against the cabinets which shattered immediately as she was forced into an upright position, being slammed by her shoulders into the wall repeatedly. Sidney was momentarily dazed but managed to land a punch to Jill's gut and slide away from another collision.
She kicked Jill away from her and tried to stand up. Her body was already weak but her adrenaline was pumping readily. She stood, slightly hunched over with a hand clutching her stomach as she looked at Jill who was also getting up.
"You won't make it out of this, Jill." The killer only shook her head devilishly before looking Sidney in the eyes. "Oh, but Sidney, this is my chance for so much more than living in your shadow. And I won't stop until I get that." Sidney shook her head, bracing herself for the fight to come.
Frantically, Sidney looked around the room to find anything she could use. There was a defibrillator but she would have to charge that before using it. If only she was in her secluded house, where a loaded gun was never far from reach. Sidney was torn from her examination of the room as Jill sprinted at her, throwing her back to the ground. Jill stood up quickly, standing over Sidney pridefully. She drew her foot back and kicked Sidney in the side, enjoying the pain in Sidney's eyes. She kicked her again and again, and as Sidney curled onto her side she targeted the stab wounds. Sidney cried out, arms bracing her stomach area again. Jill was going to enjoy her scream.
The kicks stopped for a moment as Jill spoke, venom soaked in every word. "How does it feel to be alone? Knowing that you're going to die? Pathetic."
Sidney was in a mess of her own blood. Her body seemed to scream against the agony, but Jill didn't stop. Sidney fought for control in her head and coordinated herself well enough to grab Jill's foot out from under her before she could strike her already-bleeding open stitches again. As Jill fell to the once sterile flooring of the hospital room she shuffled herself around to grab a shard of glass from the broken cabinets. She couldn't move fast enough. Jill pulled her back by the ankle, ready to throw more punches. Sidney rolled over to face Jill with that same determined look in her eye that always came when she was stuck with a psychopath. It was now or never. When Jill moved to climb on top of her, Sidney grabbed her by the hair and threw her back into the floor. When she was on her back, Sidney punched her repeatedly across the face before making a break to the glass shards again.
"Dewey!" She yelled as she armed herself with a piece of glass. She gripped it tightly in her hand, blood dripped down from her tight grasp but the sharp pain paled in comparison to that of her open wounds. She clenched her jaw and quickly moved toward Jill. She was struggling to get up, and Sidney rushed to get to her. Jill tried to kick the improvised blade from Sidney's hand but her grip on it was too strong.
Sidney pushed Jill back onto the linoleum tiles and in one swift motion swung the glass blade into Jill's chest. Her body shook for a second before lying back on the ground and Sidney watched her eyes fade away from her. Despite the feeling of overkill, Sidney swung the blade into Jill's chest again. They always come back, and for once she'd love not to deal with it. She withdrew her hands from the blade shakily, leaving it impaled in Jill's chest. Glass shards stuck in Sidney's hand as she fell to the floor beside Jill. She was bleeding from so many different areas, but she knew her stomach was the biggest concern. She pressed her hands against her stomach with as much pressure as she could possibly muster but she was sure her efforts were futile. As she rested her head back on the tile she hoped her previous yells were enough for Dewey to hear.
If not, she'd be seeing Jill sooner than she'd prefer.
Her adrenaline had long since begun fading, and now not only did every inch of her body ache but she could feel the blood loss taking its toll.
She could faintly hear footsteps in the hallway as her eyelids fell heavily downward.
Dewey heard something the first time, not loud enough or clear enough to draw his immediate attention but enough to restart his paranoia. So when Sidney screamed again he went running, radio in hand as he called for back up. By the time he reached Sid's room the chaos of combat was no longer at hand but the stench of iron and the aftermath of killing flowed through the room like blood from Sidney's open wounds. Blood was smeared all around the bright white floor but all he could see was two bodies. He hastily checked Jill's pulse, confirming his assumption that she was dead before rushing to Sidney's side. Her heartbeat was fading but he wouldn't let her die.
Doctors arrived urgently; some were taken aback by the gory scene in the room. Sidney was instantly moved off of the floor and onto a gurney to be taken for surgery. Dewey forcefully brought himself along with the team of doctors, riding alongside the gurney holding Sidney's uncut hand. He squeezed tightly, hoping that in her unconscious state she would know he was there with her, fighting for her.
He swears that as he was being forced to stay behind Sidney squeezed his hand back before being taken away.
She was a survivor, after all. They all were.
And she may have fought Jill alone, but she'd never truly be without her friends.