Scream’s Vacation

Katy wouldn’t have taken this vacation if she knew how much trouble it would be. Yeah, a trip to the beaches of Southern California sounded great when her boyfriend had proposed it. Work was getting exhausting, and any kind of break sounded pleasant, even if she still had to do some tasks from out of the office. But then her stupid boyfriend just had to go and trick her into taking a beach day completely off the grid. So here she was, all dressed up for a murder spree, being told to ‘relax’. 

“I don’t know why you’re so mad at me! I’m trying to help you!”

“You said you saw someone post about their daily night jog along the beach! You could’ve just told me to take the day off, you inconsiderate pile of jock straps! Do you know how much preparation goes into this job?”

“Babe, I get it, this is a real commitment, but can’t you just-”

“No! You don’t get it! Alex, this is a really big deal to me! I’m the first high-profile female serial killer. When I kill someone, it’s not just for the fun of it. It’s for every little girl who follows my work.”

“If you would just try to enjoy the beach day-”

“I shouldn’t even have come on this stupid trip! This is your fault!”

Alex sighed. “Katy, please. I’m worried about you-”

“Worry about yourself!” Katy stomped off, sand shooting upwards where her feet touched the dunes. Alex massaged his temples. He knew better than to follow her when she was like this.

She walked until her legs burned, and then walked some more. After an interval of time she couldn’t identify, the constant scratch of sand in her knee-high boots became intolerable, and she huffily sat down to take them off. She tugged and pulled, but the stick of sweat in skin-tight leather proved too strong. Finally, she let out a screech and ripped the boot off, revealing one sweaty, pasty foot. She threw it into the sparse crabgrass and slumped down.

Why was she here? When she was younger, she never took vacations. Her work was her pride and joy. Everyone she saw was a potential target, every inconspicuous object a tool of murder. She’d killed a man with a mechanical pencil, for God’s sakes. What had happened to her?

She sighed. It was starting to get dark, and her stomach was aching. If she didn’t get back to the car soon, she’d be lost. She had to get up, she just… couldn’t. Every limb felt heavy, like the sand had sunk through her skin into her veins. She flopped back into a laying position and closed her eyes. 

The ocean, far away now, just barely registered in her ears. Wind fluttered through the crabgrass, causing a constant, swishing echo. Occasionally, a strand would scratch along the back of her hand. She took off her mask, letting the cool air brush curls over her eyelids. The world smelled of saltwater and sweat. Maybe the latter was just her cloak.

She slowly sat up and tugged the black fabric over her head. The only thing left to cover her was a once-white sports bra and bloody boxers. Wait, how long had it been since her last period? Three, four months? She’d heard stress could affect your cycle, but that was… bad. Plus, that meant she hadn’t washed her clothes since then. Maybe she really did need a break from work. 

The sun was starting to set, and even through the clouds, the pinks and purples were stunning. She could have enjoyed this view every night, but she had been too busy stalking targets. So much time that she could have spent getting a hobby spent on a dying passion instead. Maybe there was still time. The vacation wasn’t over. Her life wasn’t over. She could change.

Slowly, she stood up and collected her things. She followed the fading footprints in the sand back to the shore. Alex was sitting on the beach with his back to her. 

“Hi.” She said. Alex slowly turned around.

“Hi.” Katy kicked the sand for a moment.

“Look, I’m sorry. I was kinda mean when you were trying to help.”

“I kinda accept your apology.” 

“I kinda hope your dinner tastes like sweat.”

“It’ll remind me of kissing you, then.” He grinned. Katy sat down next to him.

“Have I really been that gross?”

“Babe, you haven’t showered in two weeks. Your only clean clothes are your work uniform. Your hair contains enough oil to make a president invade it-”

“I get the picture,” She sighed. “How about I take a shower back at our hotel room and take you to dinner? My treat.”

“I’d like that. On the condition that you wear one of my dresses. I’m not going to be seen in public with a woman who looks fresh out of a depressive episode.” Katy flicked him and he laughed. 

“Lose the attitude and I just might get you a dessert.”

“Deal.” He stood and reached out a hand to help her up. She took it and only laughed a little when he couldn’t quite lift her. The two of them walked to the car hand in hand, leaving behind footprints in the soft, damp sand. About a hundred feet down the shore, a man in neon workout clothes started his nightly beach jog.