Work Text:
red filled sam’s vision. she was more than just angry. she was covered in blood , and it wasn’t just her own.
a few hours prior, she would’ve thought this to be the worst case scenario. she’d been too preoccupied with her own issues with her father to even consider that it didn’t have to be that way. but now, with the knife flurrying in and out of richie’s chest, sam realized that this was the best thing she could’ve done in this situation.
if richie wasn’t going to kill them in woodsboro, he would have in modesto. it would’ve followed sam. sidney was right, this was her life, and it would follow. sam regretted not listening before, but it was too late for that.
and as she slit richie’s throat, she felt good.
it felt good to kill richie.
he got what he deserved. he was a terrible person, in more ways than just a serial killer. people like him didn’t deserve to exist in the world. so sam wiped the blood off of her blade and grinned; she was, for once, happy about her own serial killer roots.
she knew that, if her hallucinations meant anything, billy must’ve been proud that sam at least utilized the loomis homicidal tendencies for something. and it was a good thing, which was really what sam cared about.
but her feeling of peace quickly dissipated.
before, whilst tumbling and battling with richie, sidney and gale were facing off amber. there’d been stray screams and grunts, the sound of glass shattering, as well as clever quips and one-liners as they fought. but now (and a little bit earlier, now that sam came to think of it), the house was silent .
not even a trace of breathing could be heard. the only other sound was sam’s own befuddlement. and sam knew that if sidney and gale had survived, there would’ve been some sort of indication. and if amber won, she would’ve tried to stop sam from killing richie, right?
they were supposedly “secret lovers”, although richie was in his late 20s and amber was a high schooler. that’s not romance .
but surely, with everything that richie had done to mess with amber’s head, amber would’ve leapt to his rescue. especially if she no longer had to worry about sidney and gale getting in her way. but of course, there was nothing; there was no sign to signify if either side had won, because everything was stone-still. sam even felt herself growing quieter, as if she had to respect the air of the macher (now freeman) house.
sam carefully stood up, clutching the blade tightly. she walked down the hall quietly, worried that amber would jump out of the shadows if she heard sam. she peeked into the kitchen where the other battle had occurred, and just as sam had suspected…
there was nothing .
nobody was in the kitchen. there weren’t any strange blood trails, not even a copious amount of bloodshed. there was some glass in the corner, but that was obviously from earlier. there weren’t any bullets or leftover weapons, either.
it had become a desolate wasteland. sam didn’t bother to go further inside, though, because if there were somebody in there, someone hiding is never a good sign for anything.
sam retreated back to the hallway, making her way toward the stairs. surely there’d be something for her there. tara might’ve hid upstairs at least; she steered clear of the fighting before, and she was relatively good at staying hidden at the hospital a few hours before.
she crept up the steps cautiously, keeping her knife handy just in case she had to slit more throats. sam steadied her breath, glancing at certain crevices and searching for any slightly ajar doors, all of which was to no avail. nothing .
sam discreetly opened the wardrobe, hoping to find her sister or one of her companions. still, though, the house lacked any other human presence aside from sam and richie’s bloodied corpse. sam felt herself growing anxious. this kind of absence couldn’t have been possible.
attempting to calm her nerves, sam told herself that sidney and gale may have left. or perhaps they were hiding out in the car, waiting up for sam. something like that.
sam knew it sounded unlikely, but she didn’t want to rule anything out. she couldn’t exactly afford to .
she began to backpedal down the stairs, preparing herself to do one more loop around the kitchen and hallways before taking off completely. hopefully—maybe—there’d be a window cracked open, or a back door left agape, letting in the bitingly cold air. sam could only hope.
but just as she reached the top step, she felt a blunt force on the back of her skull.
her vision began to fizzle out. the last thing she could remember was tumbling down the stairs; her sides felt a spike of pain at the sudden crash-land into the smoothed wood.
then, sam blacked out completely.
☆
sam groaned, her eyes slowly opening. she could hardly make out the room she was in; the lights were bright and burned her eyes. she squinted, trying to move her arms. they hardly budged. they were tied tightly together, as well as her ankles, restricting any significant movement.
before she could fully piece together her predicament, a chirpy voice perked up: “oh good, you’re awake!”
sam opened her eyes, her vision adjusting to the obnoxious brightness of the room she was captive in. quickly, she realized who had captured her. amber .
amber bent down in front of her, wearing the same thing she’d had on at the party just moments before the reveal. this time, though, she looked much more dishevelled. sam noticed amber’s white-knuckled grip on her gun.
sam’s knowledge of amber was brief. she didn’t know much about the girl, but while they were visiting tara in the hospital, sam could see her priorities very clearly. it seemed as if she cared deeply for tara. she looked into her eyes with such concern and love. sam couldn’t have ever imagined what amber had become in such a short timeframe; she’d practically transformed into the devil herself.
“you know, i’ve got to hand it to you…” amber snapped sam out of her thoughts. “…you killed richie all by yourself! good job, psycho killer. you really nailed the whole billy’s daughter role.” amber smirked, giving a mocking thumbs-up. sam felt her heart sink.
amber didn’t appear sad about richie’s passing whatsoever—she didn’t harbor any visible grudge toward sam over her slaughtering of the man, either. amber was upfront about her emotions, which was incredibly evident by her behavior during the act 3 reveal. she was emotionally volatile, her mood swings causing a colorful conversation. certainly movie-esque .
sam looked down. she felt particularly woozy, especially since the adrenaline from killing richie had worn off. she was losing a lot of blood. richie stabbed her good.
she tried to readjust herself, but could barely move. thundering pain shot all across her body. she subconsciously grunted, to which amber quickly flashed her gun. “don’t move, bitch . i’m not done talking.” she hissed; her tone was vicious and cutting. sam fearfully nodded, stopping in her tracks. amber shot her a small smile.
amber clapped, faux cheering. “that was your applause. because i really am glad. i was planning on killing him myself, but i guess i don’t have to do that now!” she made a choking gesture to emphasize her statement. amber derived too much pleasure from the idea. sam gulped. her throat was dry and it ached. it felt as if she were a shell of pain and only that.
“amber—”
a tear rolled down sam’s face as amber held the gun to her chin. she asserted her authority over sam, who quickly cowered back to remaining silent. amber was visibly proud of the trepidation she’d caused. “i said don’t speak . i’ll explain everything, you just have to shut the fuck up !” amber said roughly and her tone was grave. sam never thought she’d be here.
she had been a few hours earlier (or maybe a few minutes, she wasn’t sure). but she’d killed richie. she won the fight. she thought she did, at least. but she forgot about amber, the most capable of them all. sam thought that amber would’ve faltered. 2 adult women, experienced with these massacres… amber surely stood no chance against them. she was only 18. but sam had misjudged. amber was much more stronger than she could have ever imagined.
amber snapped in sam’s face, gathering her oscillating attention. she was beginning to lose a dangerous amount of blood—amber doubted that she’d even have to sedate her, much less stab sam until she died. “you might not think it, sam, but i love tara. i would never hurt her. not like you have,”
sam winced. it wasn’t just the physical agony, either—she could feel the weight of what she had done on her shoulders and it ached . she hated thinking about the things she did to tara, and to everyone else who had stood in her way. fuck, i’m so stupid .
“everyone’s hurt her. you left. vince was her creepy co-worker. wes had a weird fucking crush on her. and i mean, it’s not hard to attach liv, mindy, and chad to it, you know?” amber chuckled. “you’re the killer here, not me.”
sam couldn’t even deny it. she didn’t actually pick up the blade and slice up wes, or chad, or mindy… she didn’t splatter liv’s brains onto the wall, but she did kill tara’s spirit. she fucked up her little sister’s childhood. she left her all by herself with a shitty alcoholic mother and no dad. what the fuck was wrong with her?
amber cleared her throat, admiring her gun. she traced her fingers across its sleek slide, her index dancing around the trigger. “and sidney prescott…” amber whispered. “sidney prescott was adored after the original killings in 1996! everyone knew her name! she had a whole franchise made after her life story, and it garnered so much attention and so many fans!” she beamed. sam knew her fair share about the original murders; she was a woodsboro native and billy loomis’s daughter, after all. but amber seemed to know a lot more about them. she’d poured over them for hours, perfecting her technique.
sam wasn’t going to make it out of this mess alive. she just hoped tara would, so that her regression into a fucking killer wouldn’t mean nothing. at least one person out there would know sam’s story.
“sidney’s a final girl; she’s famous, she’s loved, and she’s been through these massacres four times now.” amber waved her arms around, conveying her clear passion and intrigue toward the subject. “tara’s never been loved like that, but if she falls into sidney’s shoes…
“a woodsboro girl, the survivor of a series of violent murders. people will finally love her—something you, and everyone else, could never do,”
her mind jumped back to when she first saw sidney. she was so rude. she didn’t listen, she just packed tara and richie into the car and drove off. why can’t we bring amber along? her parents don’t even care if she’s home or not , tara had said. tara pushed sam to let her pay amber a visit, but sam denied her. then, of course, tara lost her inhaler, so they had to go to amber’s house anyway.
so why did amber have to be the killer? she was right about tara being unloved. so why couldn’t she do what a normal teenager would? just simply love her?
sam mustered up the energy to say: “but you… killed people,”
amber rolled her eyes. “obviously,” she spat. amber (once again) stuck her gun to sam’s head, threatening her into silence. sam spluttered out blood. most people would’ve jerked back, disgusted by the sudden splash of blood, furious that it had landed on their clothing. but amber stayed stone-still, a whisper of her previous crazed expression still lingering on her face.
she then shrugged. “i’m doing this for tara,” she said, and promptly raised her gun. she bashed sam’s temple, and the whole world went black.
☆
tara had been tied up in the closet for what seemed like eternity. she leaned against the wall, her body full of ache. all she could think about was before —months before, she’d spend a lot of time in this closet searching for a shirt to wear while she slept over. she’d take them and then either never bring them back or keep them for a few weeks until amber asked where they went.
tara’s safe memories of pierce the veil shirts and champion hoodies were slowly being replaced with headaches and blood. her body ached, and the rope tied around her wrists throbbed. the rope was fastened tightly; she could feel it digging into her skin. she wondered if it would begin to draw blood.
she could feel her eyes being weighed down by exhaustion. she’d been stabbed seven times, her leg was broken, and she just got gagged and thrown into a closet. it wasn’t exactly a regular tuesday.
suddenly, the door to amber’s bedroom was flung open. tara felt her heart seize, anxious to see who it was. she heard the person put down something, a minor thud following it. she assumed they must’ve been putting down a weapon, considering the action she’d faintly overheard downstairs. then, footsteps approached the closet door and the knob twisted.
amber knelt down, looking into tara’s eyes. silence hung in the air softly; tara knew that she should be terrified, or angry, or sad. but tara felt the same as she always had, and amber didn’t do anything cruel like tara had predicted. she simply sat there, staring at tara the same way she always had. it was hard to differentiate then and now. tara shouldn’t have had to. why did it have to be amber?
“i’m sorry.” amber sat criss-crossed in front of tara. “i know you’re probably upset, but please listen to me.”
tara remained silent; her body was motionless, and her eyes didn’t so much as twitch. amber sighed and placed her own hand atop tara’s, making sure to keep the touch gentle and light for fear of aggravating tara’s stab wound. “if i remove the duct tape, do you promise not to scream?”
tara nodded eagerly. amber hesitated, scanning tara for any indicator of her intentions. she resolved to trust tara’s nod and began to rip off the duct tape. “this might hurt,” she said, quickly tearing the strip of tape off and crumpling it in her hand. tara quietly winced. amber frowned and cupped tara’s face in her hands.
“why did you do this?” tara whispered. she could feel herself tearing up. amber looked at her pitifully.
amber had prepared numerous monologues for this situation, but now that it was actually time, she wasn’t sure what to say. she never imagined that it would go like this. “i’m not gonna hurt you, i promise,” she said. tara looked away from amber. but she didn’t have to see tara’s expression to know that her heart was breaking.
tara sniffled, tears beginning to roll down her face. she refused to look at amber, but amber didn’t seem to mind. she wiped away tara’s tears, but tara quickly rejected her touch. “you killed people!”
“well—yes!” amber snapped back, but she quickly made it clear that she wasn’t angry. tara went silent once more. amber held tara’s hand a bit more tight, still dancing around her wound. “but what you don’t understand is why ! okay, i… did this for you, tara,”
tara left her mouth open uselessly. amber took this as an opportunity to begin one of her monologues—except, well, it was more improvision. she never expected this. she wasn’t sure what she had expected anymore. she just knew that it wasn’t this. “sam left you, okay? why do you care now? she doesn’t care… not as much as i do. nobody else loves you as much as i do. and this isn’t some… lie or whatever. i’m not trying to make you forgive me, i just need you to see…”
amber looked at her pleadingly. “sidney prescott. she was loved . and after her mom, well, she needed that, didn’t she? and you… you’ve been left behind your whole life! everyone’s hurt you! now that they’re gone, you can be the new sidney prescott. you can be loved , tara. i want to love you. i want the world to love you,” amber explained. tears stopped rolling down tara’s face; instead, she noticed them begin to pool in amber’s own. she was passionate about this.
“you’ll be a final girl, and i’ll be your girlfriend through it all! i can help you, and you can get everything you ever wanted in return. don’t you see?” amber cried.
amber sniffled and wiped the tears away from her face. tara watched her helplessly. she knew she should be disgusted. she didn’t feel that way, though—all she could see in front of her was something broken. amber, tara supposed, had been seeing tara that way. maybe what tara saw in amber was only a reflection. she pushed her conflicting feelings away and pulled her hand away. she could see the alarm bells going off in amber’s eyes.
but these worries were quickly soothed as tara lifted her hand to cup amber’s face.
after everything tara had been through, after everything amber had been through, she knew what fucked up was. this was fucked up. but so was tara. so was sam. so was amber. but most importantly, so was billy fucking loomis. it was his fault for this, not amber’s. he started all of this. it didn’t matter. what the fuck am i even thinking?
whatever.
“okay.” tara said softly, kissing amber.
they stayed that way for a moment until amber pulled away. “wait… what?” she looked at tara inquisitively. she was sure that tara would’ve rejected her plan, and amber as a whole. what the fuck ?
tara sighed. “all you have left to do is kill the rest of them, right?” she asked, and amber nodded excitedly. tara smirked and held amber’s other hand.
“well, then that’s just what we’ll do.”
tara knew one thing. she loved amber. she didn’t care anymore—she loved amber. and finally, she didn’t have to fight for that kind of love. for any love. she had amber now.