an unhealthy obsession ;; ellie w. x abby a. x reader ;; pt. 1
and i'll get done for somethin' stupid like disturbance of the peace. | (ghostface au)
NOTES: this is entirely self indulgent tbh ,,, but fuck it !! we ball. future chapters will b linked here <3 reblg if u want to be tagged idk that's it. modern au btw. ellie might be a little ooc? for the sake of the au
TRIGGERS: murder but it happens offscreen + blackmail under the threat of violence n manipulation. there's also smoking wed
You'd be the first to admit your interests tended to ebb on morbid.
Maybe, you muse, it had to do with the source of your upbringing: Jackson. It was a stereotypical small town, where, cliché as it was, everybody knew everybody. The town's history was clean as a goddamn whistle. While places like Seattle— Abby's hometown— were a hotspot for crime due to the sheer amount of people making it slightly harder to get caught unless you were a goddamn idiot, with the close proximity of everyone within Jackson from Dina to Tommy Miller, any crime you could commit would be shut down by the local police force in a month at most.
At least— that was what you thought.
So, you indulged your macabre curiosity elsewhere: you binge watched slashers despite your parents' vehement protests and you researched the violent happenings that often took place outside your sheltered hometown. Hell, you'd even indulged in one of those stupid fucking murder mystery games with some of the allowance you'd managed to spare that wasn't spent on various branded paraphernalia... and the other kind, but nobody needed to know that.
You weren't exactly surprised at how others seemed to be creeped out by you: Friday the 13th wasn't exactly a commonplace interest. Even so, you'd managed to make a few close friends whom you considered enough to get you by.
You jolt as your locker slams shut beside your head, and Abby's cackling is all too familiar.
"Fuckin' dick," you groan, feigning your exasperation— you'd finished putting your stuff away, anyway. "What happened to 'hello'? 'How was your day, Y/N?'"
"Your day's always the same," Abby provides helpfully, and you roll your eyes. "You wake up, come to school, indulge the same 3 people—" Her, Ellie, and Dina— "in the same rotation of conversations until they leave, go home, get violently high, watch whatever weird slasher your fancying that night, and then go to bed."
You blink owlishly. "Got my schedule memorized down pat there, Abs. You been stalking me?" You smirk, playfully, but your brow arches when she falls suspiciously silent. "Uh... alright."
"Anyway, you're having a change of plans," Abby finally says, and your eyes widen as you pipe up to speak. "You'll still get violently high and watch a slasher, don't worry. You'll just be gracing me and Ellie with your company while you do." She finishes, and you fall silent.
'Alright," you mutter. "Do I get to pick the slasher, or are you gonna pick some cornball shit like Chopping Mall?" You huff. Abby begins to answer, but your phone suddenly chimes with a notification from your news app.
Local man found dead from apparent stabbing.
Your mouth falls open slightly as Abby reads the headline over your shoulder. You fail to notice her nervous expression.
"Huh," you mutter, slinging your backpack over your shoulder. "Something interesting finally happened in this town. Neat."
-
The choice in film, much to your chagrin, was Chopping Mall. Fortunately, you were too far gone to care.
Your head lolled of the side of the bed, your back strewn across Ellie's legs as you barely manage to register the words spewing from her mouth as you take another hit from the blunt she'd rolled.
"I just don't get how you like these," she complains. "I mean, it's the same damn formula every time. Does it not get boring?"
"That's the pointtttt," you groan. "The more formulaic they are, the better. Sure, some newer takes can be good: but sticking to the classics is a good play. Better safe than sorry." You wave off her concerns.
"Well, look at this little flim critic," Ellie teases as she stares at Abby, who's staring blankly at the ceiling. You'd never fail to find her lower tolerance hilarious.
"I mean," you and Ellie wait patiently through Abby's long pause. "They're right. Formulaic can be good. Patterns are more predictable— easier to keep up." She says, and you notice her and Ellie share a look.
"But they can also suck," she hisses. "Because if you're predictable, it makes it easier to connect. Like, in these movies how they're always killing off dumb, blonde bimbos— you can tell they're all copying eachother." She complains. You squint at the both of them, but don't comment on the subject.
"There's no right answer," you shrug. "I just find the middle ground. Sure, it's predictable, and boring. But it's also the safe call to make. People criticize these movies, but they make fuckin' millions. The original ones get better reviews, but they end up falling flat in the box office."
You don't realize Ellie and Abby's argument isn't referring to movies in the slightest.
"You sound way too fuckin' smart for the both of us," Ellie says, and you snort.
"It's because I am," your eyes flash toward Ellie's clock. "Shit. I gotta go. Parents will kill me if I'm not home soon." You shoot upward, trying to adjust to your surroundings. You cannot come home looking high out of your fucking mind. "See you guys later."
You watch as the two of them give you a halfhearted wave, and once you shut the bedroom door, you chalk up the strange shuffling to... something you don't want to know, honestly.
You don't realize it's much worse than you thought.
-
You surmise the punishment for being late is slightly lesser than the punishment for coming home inebriated, so you take the risk to sober up in a nearby alley between a convenience store and a small restaurant.
The alley is lit up by string lights and decorated with a few benches— perfectly habitable, and it's not what scares you— what does set you on edge is the unchecked darkness of the forest beyond the alley.
You elect to ignore the unease in your stomach, instead taking a hearty swig of the water you'd bought from the convenience store before coming outside. The tension in your shoulders almost releases, then—
You hear a scream.
A bloodcurdling scream.
Every nerve in your body tells you to run the opposite direction of the plea for help, every goddamn slasher you've watched over the years telling you playing the hero always gets you killed, but it's not heroics that lead you toward the source of the noise.
It's that same morbid curiosity that gets you watching slashers in the first place.
The noises grow louder as you draw nearer, and your eyes widen as you stifle a gasp when you see the bloodied body of Nora lying at the feet of two masked killers. You sigh in relief when you realize the treeline obscures you from view, but the noise comes out far too loud.
It hits you just how fucked you are.
You've made a few essential mistakes in the laws of survival so far, but you're not stupid enough not to run: you make a mad dash, but in a sick (and ironic) twist of fate, you trip over your abandoned water bottle and wince as the solid trunk of a tree collides against with your head with a loud thunk.
Through the blurry haze that is your vision, you see the two killers standing right in front of you. You prepare for the worst, when—
"Y/N?"
Oh, shit.
"El?" You hear the panicked rambling of another woman. "Abs? What the FUCK!?"
You almost kick out when Abby covers your mouth with a gloved hand, but know better than to get violent with the woman twice your size with a fucking hunting knife to boot.
"Ellie, El, this is bad." Abby's voice is shaking. "What the Hell do we do, man?"
The forest falls painfully silent.
"Well," Ellie finally begins. "The best course of action? Kill the witness." You whimper, and mentally hit yourself for showing any vulnerability. "But," she continues. "On the other hand, I kind of like this one."
You will Abby to take her hand off your mouth with a pleading look.
"So," you hiss. "What's your plan, here? I don't have all night. Either get this over with and slit my throat or hurry the fuck up."
Ellie grins. "I've always liked that you were a little feisty, Y/N."
"I said," you grit your teeth. "Hurry up."
"Here's the deal, darling," Ellie tilts your chin up with the hilt of the knife. You look away. "You help us out. And we don't kill you." She wrenches your head forward, just enough to look her in the eyes. "You say no, or you rat us out," she mutters, lowly. "And we slit your throat. Deal?"
It hits you there's not a lot of options on the table. You glance over at Abby, clearly the more emotionally charged of the two, and wonder if you can bargain with her. But, you decide, she's probably just as crazy as Ellie or too scared to say no if her going along with this in the first place was any indication.
And, a darker part of you whispers, you wonder how it must feel, if they're willing to do such heinous things.
Finally, you assent with a shaky nod.
"Alright," you wrench your gaze away again.
"I'll help you."
WC: 1.5K
137 notes
·
View notes