Chapter 3

The familiarity of the ghost face was the worst, she hated that she knew it so well and that she couldn't even move. Gale had to move when Ghost Face raised the knife over his head and lunged at her, she slammed the door as quickly as possible but it wasn't quick enough. The knife stuck through the door, but with his weight pushed against the other side, she couldn't close it all the way. The killer pushed one hard thrust on the door and Gale fell far backwards onto the ground.

"DEWEY!" She screamed as loud as possible. As she lay on her back on the floor, kicking and pushing herself, tying to stand up, Ghost Face kneeled quickly, and stabbed the knife straight through Gale's ankle. Her scream was so loud and ear piercing, and as soon as it left her mouth, there was a loud gun shot behind her, and Ghost Face fell backwards, with a hole in his black robe. As he fell backwards, he pulled the knife out of Gale's ankle. She turned to face her husband, with his arms outstretched in front of him, and a smoking gun in his hands.

"Dewey shoot him again," Gale's voice was shaking, as she tried to speak through her cries. Ghost Face wasn't moving.

"Shoot him again, Dewey!" She screamed again.

"Gale, he's dead."

"Shoot him again!'

"He's not moving, Gale, he's dead," he helped her up off the ground, her ankle was bleed profusely.

"They're never dead! Shoot him again!" Gale was crying so hard, and hugging her husbands arm. Dewey grabbed the sleeve of her shirt and gave one hard yank; the sleeve tore away from the rest of the shirt with a loud ripping sound. He kneeled down by her ankle and put the gun on the ground by his side. As he used the torn sleeve as a band aid around her ankle, Ghost Face raised his head and looked at Gale. His motionless face told you the only thing it had on its mind, murder. He got to his feet quickly, considering he had just been shot. She hadn't noticed him, until he was standing up straight and walking toward her.

"He's still alive, Dewey!" Before Dewey could even comprehend what she had said, Ghost Face hit Gale with the butt of his knife, and she fell to the ground dizzy.

"Don't touch her!" Gale's brave husband screamed. Still on his hands and knees, Dewey reached for the gun, before he could get his hand on it; the killer pulled the knife over his head, and shoved it into the center of Dewey's back. The knife punctured through his flesh and blood began rushing out, dripping down his back and onto the floor. Gale screamed as she watched her husband dieing before her eyes. She tried with all her strength to get up and save him, but the pain in both her head and ankle was too much.

"NO!" Tears streamed out of her face as blood did from her ankle. Ghost Face pulled the knife out of his back and brought it down again, he continued to stab Dewey; the small fountains of blood spraying from his back were at least three inches high.

"Gale..." His last word, was her name, Dewey lay still on the ground with his eyes wide open. She started to feel like she could move, her arm stretched out and grabbed the wall behind her, Gale was so close to stand when the killer jumped on top of her. He straddled her, squeezing her tightly with his knees. She looked up into the black eyes; Dewey's blood covered the knife and Gale was almost certain she would be seeing her husband very soon. The killer put his hand on the top of his head, and pulled the Ghost Face off. He, was a she.

"Sydney, how could you do this, why are you doing this?" Sydney Prescott. Her eyes were once so gentle, were now just in a trance as they stared at Gale so morbidly.

"Hi, Gale, it's been a while."

"Why the fuck are you doing this!" Gale asked this question even though she already knew the answer. Sydney had been through more shit than a sewer pipe, and keeping your sanity through all that was next to impossible.

"Why? Gale Weathers, author of The Woodsborrow Murders wants to know why! That book is why, you made millions off the story of my mother's murder, and the murder of every close friend I ever had, and now you live in this million dollar home and could have anything you want, while my best friends and family lie in coffins six feet under! You could care less about them, you just wanted to get the story and the fame, and you got away with it! You dragged the names of the some of the greatest people I ever knew through the mud and got paid to do it! How's that for a fucking motive, out of the five killers I must admit, I like mine the best!"

"You're crazy."

"Call it what you want, you know I'm right."

"No you aren't right, that's my job."

"Your job is to report the news, not tell the world your bullshit theories about the murder of my mother!"

"Get off me," Gale tried to shake her off but she was too strong.

"Don't fight me. This is going to end tonight, you want to know how?"

"Fuck you."

"I'm going to stab you, and wait for your life to slowly slip away, then I'm going to take Dewey's gun over there and shoot myself in the head, then it's over, everyone who's apart of this is dead, it will finally be over," the smile on Sydney's face was a smile of relief as she thought about how this was going to end.

"Sydney, please don't do this. You don't have to do this."

"Yes I do. But I do have one question for you, Gale, I've already asked you but you didn't answer me."

"Sydney, don't do this."

"Who do you think will write the story of your murder?" Her devil smile came back as she asked this question, because she knew she had won. Sydney raised the knife over her head, and held it there for just a second. She looked down at Gale as she straddled her.

"Sydney, NO!" She pushed the knife through Gale's chest, blood pouring out onto the ground as Gale slowly began to die.

"Goodbye, Gale." Sydney lifted herself off of her, and crawled over to the gun lying next to Dewey's lifeless body. The pain in Gale's chest was terrible, and she could feel blood coming out of her mouth. Sydney took the Ghost Face mask off the ground and put it back over her face, the gun held firmly in her hand she raised it to her head, took one last look at Gale, and pulled the trigger. The gun boomed as blood and brain matter from Sydney's head splattered all over the wall. Her body fell to the ground. Gale looked at the knife sticking out of her chest for last few minutes of her life. She moved her eyes to the ceiling. Gale felt her soul leaving her body, and even though her eyes were wide open, the room went dark. Gale didn't hurt anymore.