Ghostface

I live in a small town called Woodsboro. Small meaning a great place to raise a family. Small towns also mean that almost everyone knows everybody. Everyone knows who I am but not in a good way. At school, people think I'm a weirdo because I happen to have an obsession with horror films. They're actually like little survival guides to help you in life and death situations. Well, that's what I think. Scary movies are also my comfort zone. When I'm stressed, feeling like crap, or in a mood to go around the town in a bloody rampage, scary movies are there to comfort me. Music helps the same way but horror movies are something I have a great connection to. No one can really understand this connection I have with them. Because of this, everyone makes fun of me as well with other flaws I seem to have in their eyes. I barely have many friends and am very reserved. Nothing better for me to do than to catch the next flick I feel up to watching. Horror movies are like a drug to me. If I see a movie on tv or a video in the store I don't have, I get really crazy on the inside. Well, it's a much safer drug than what the other 17-year-olds take today. Speaking of others, they really get on my nerves a lot. Sometimes it gets to where I want to kill them all. One time, I was about to snap and actually hurt them in the most brutal way possible (Jason Voorhees and Pinhead moment). But then, something strange happened. There was a killer in Woodsboro attacking students from my school. The police didn't know who it was because there were no leads to the person's identity. Although, everyone else thought it was me because some of the kids were those that I hated. We were all questioned and I wasn't a suspect, thank goodness. So, today, as I was sitting in study hall, awaiting for the bell to ring, a boy sat next to me and started talking to me.
"Why haven't the cops brought you out in handcuffs? Hmm, Nicole? Why? Are you lying to them?"
"Go away. I'd like to have an afternoon in peace."
"Well, sorry miss I'm-a-freak-of-nature-that-likes-to-freak-people-out-for-the-Hell-of-it. I just wanted to know if-"
"If I'm the killer and it's really me behind all these murders? You're such a stereo typist. Blame the weird kid for bad things going on."
"Well, it's not that people can't see this just by looking at you. The way you look practically screams I'm a psychopath."
"That's because I like to wear black a lot. Not all killers wear dark colors, you know."
"I'm just saying. Why are you so into those scary movies anyways?"
"What's wrong? You think I'll get inspired to kill from this?"
"Maybe. I wouldn't be surprised."
"So, if I come up to you and force a knife through your chest like Michael Myers, you wouldn't be surprised?"
"Maybe I would but you're starting to scare me now."
"How? Because I'm plotting to kill you while you're sitting next to me?"
"Ugh...I'm going over there." He leaves and starts talking to his friends. Before I could collect my thoughts, the final bell rang. I walked out into the halls, put my books away, and headed outside. When I came out, the boy's friend yelled at the top of his lungs,"Watch out everybody! Nicole Alkins is right there and she's going to kill us all!" Most of the kids laughed at me as I ran home in a rage while some kids coward in fear in believing the joke. Today was just not my day. But truthfully, I could be the target for this killer just by walking off home. And almost the whole neighborhood around the school heard that guy. If the killer lives here, they'd know who I was. Maybe even be stalking me right now. I looked behind me. Nothing there. I come upon my house and slipped inside, still thinking about what happened today.