Disclaimer: If I kill Fenton, do I get the rights of Prom Night

Disclaimer: If I kill Fenton, do I get the rights of Prom Night?

No.

Dang.

Alternate Ending

I slowly got up from my bed, turning to look at the sound coming from behind me. It was the television; the news was still on from when I and Bobby had fallen asleep. I grabbed the remote from my bedside table and clicked the power button, making the television screen go blank.

I glanced around my dark room. The only light was the light from the streetlights outside. Bobby was lying on my bed, his chest rising and falling from each breath he took. I glanced toward the window, and slowly walked over. I rested my hands on either side of the glass, and looked at the street below. My eyes slowly fell over Detective Nash's car, lighted by the bright headlights of the police car. He looked like he was sleeping; his head was resting on the dashboard, his hands still on the wheel.

I moved away from the window and walked into the bathroom. I looked myself over in the mirror. My hair was tangled and clothes ruffled from sleeping. I looked back up and raised my arm to open the cabinet. I grabbed my depression pills and filled the square cup on the sink with water. I slowly gulped down the pills, feeling the cool water seep down my throat.

A little voice in the back of my head was bugging me., I suddenly had the strange feeling that someone was watching me. I looked back at Bobby on the bed; he was still asleep.

I shook off the feeling and placed the cup back on the counter. I shut the cabinet, looked up, and screamed. Standing right behind me was the man who had murdered my family and friends: Richard Fenton. I didn't even have time to think before he smashed my head forward into the mirror.

I screamed and quickly sat up in the bed.

"Shh, babe what's wrong?" Bobby asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes as he tried to sooth me. "You'll wake your aunt and uncle."

I looked at him, the bathroom, then back to him. I finally got my voice back, and spoke.

"Nothing, I just had a bad dream. He was back, in the house I mean, and he w…. he was in the bathroom. It was only a dream though; he couldn't have escaped from that hotel. It was armed at all exits. I'm probably just over reacting," I said to him, leaning against his chest as he rubbed soothing circles on my tense back.

"You're not over reacting. You just went through another horrible experience, and your brain needed time to comprehend it. That resulted into a nightmare. Your fine though, I promise," he said quietly into my ear.

All I could do was shake my head. After a couple minutes, I broke the comfortable silence between us.

"Do you think everyone's okay? I just feel horrible about Claire," I said on the verge of tears.

"I'm sure everyone's fine. It's not your fault Claire was murdered; it was that maniac's. At least she's in a better place now."

All I could do was nod. A couple more minutes passed before I stood up and said, "I have to use the bathroom." Bobby nodded his head and got up as well.

"I'll go use the one across the hall, seeing how two people can't use one bathroom," he said with a wink. I let out a small laugh, still frightened from my nightmare.

Bobby let my hand slip and started to walk toward the door. My hand felt lonely without his grip. I heard a small sound and glanced at the television. It was still on, seeing how my dream state couldn't have turned it off. I grabbed the remote from my bedside table, and clicked the power button, once again causing the television screen to go blank. Across the hall, I heard Bobby shut the bathroom door.

I let my eyes fall from the hall and over to the window again. I walked over and quietly put my hands on either side of the window, and let my eyes fall onto the street. Detective Nash was sleeping, just like he had been in my dream, with his head once again on the dashboard, and his hands on the steering wheel. This was starting to creep me out, and the hairs on the back of my neck rose.

I walked over to the bathroom, and this time closed the door half way, so I could still see outside. I looked at the mirror, and it was like I was in my dream again; my hair was tangled and my clothes ruffled from sleeping.

I opened the cabinet silently and grabbed my depression pills. I took the square glass from the sink, filled it up with water, and gulped the pills, and once again felt the cool water slide down my throat.

A second feeling was coming over me, a stronger feeling than in my dream. A feeling of someone in the room with me, but I knew that Bobby was still in the bathroom across the hall. I hadn't heard the door open. I looked back at the open cabinet. 'Okay, the time of truth,' I said to myself silently as I put my hand on the edge of the cabinet door. I braced myself as I slammed the cabinet door shut, and looked through the mirror.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that no one was standing there. My shoulders instantly relaxed as I heard my bedroom door open, shut, and lock itself. I was utterly confused. I hadn't heard the bathroom door across the hall open, or was I just hallucinating?

"Bobby?" I called, but I didn't get an answer. I slowly shut off the bathroom light and went to go lay on my bed. I turned on my bedside lamp, and went to throw back the covers when a streak of red caught my eye. I looked at the end of my bed and screamed at the sight: There was a bloody handprint on my bed cover. I slowly backed away until I hit the half open closet door.

"What could have caused that to be there?" I asked myself. I instantly glanced down at my hands, seeing how clean they were. Bobby hadn't touched my bed when he had walked out of the bedroom either. Slowly realization hit me, and I screamed.

I tried to run to get out of the room, knowing that he was here. Before I could make it halfway across the room, someone grabbed me from behind. I tried to scream harder, but Fenton put his hand on my mouth, muffling my frantic calls.

"Shh," he said, causing me to stop screaming. The smell of blood hit my nostrils, and I looked down to see a knife sticking out of the hand that wasn't over my mouth. It was covered in blood, most likely Claire's blood. I tried to scream again, but Fenton pushed harder on my mouth with his hand.

"Shh!" he said again. I didn't hear anyone outside of my door. Silent tears were now starting to stream down my face as I tried to figure out an explanation for my house being so silent, but only one came to mind, and I didn't want to think about that.

"Are you going to come with me now, quietly?" Fenton asked. Of course I was never actually going to, but for my family and Bobby's sake, I had too fake it. So I nodded my head.

"Good," I heard him say, and he quietly opened my closet door. All was quiet and dark in my bedroom. It was too quiet. I should be hearing my aunt, uncle, and Bobby's footsteps running toward my bedroom, but I didn't.

Realization hit me as I figured that could be the only explanation for them not coming. They were all dead, but I knew I could not give into Fenton, and that I had to get away. I had to do it for my family and Bobby. More silent tears dripped down my cheeks as he pushed me out in front of him. But Fenton hadn't made two steps when I bit hard into his hand.

"Ouch!" he yelled, and his grip let me go.

I bolted for the door, but he stuck out his foot and I tripped. I struggled to get away from him, kicking my feet through the air, and clinging to the carpet, trying to get away. Fenton flipped me over and stood directly over me, his knife held over my heart. My eyes widened as I realized what he was about to do: he was threatening me.

I then heard the happiest sound of my life: footsteps outside my door.

Fenton looked scared for a moment, and then he snapped out of his revere. He started to pull me up, but someone kicked in the door, causing it to fly on its hinges. I twisted my head around to see Detective Winn holding out his gun. Bobby and my aunt and uncle were standing behind him, all looking terrified.

"Freeze!" Detective Winn shouted, putting his finger on the trigger of his gun. Fenton made a movement to pull me up, but the gun was fired, and I saw Fenton freeze. The smell of blood once again filled my nose as Detective Winn shot three more times. Fenton was wide eyed now, and he slowly started to fall forward, knife still aimed at my heart. I rolled over just in time, and he hit the floor face first, the knife flying out of his hand.

Detective Winn walked over to him, gun now in his belt. He nudged him over and the glassy eyes of the man that had been after me for years were now lifeless. I ran toward Bobby and he caught me in his arms. I cried more into his chest, happy to see him alive. I don't know what I would have done without him.

"Shh, he's gone now. He won't be bothering us anymore," Bobby said quietly into my ear.

Detective Winn walked over and said, "Well have the officers outside to come get him. At least it's all over now; that was some wild goose chase he gave us," he then walked out of the room without another word.

"Come on, lets get out of here," Bobby said, tugging me with him. I slowly followed him out of the room, taking one last glance at Fenton. It was over, he was now dead forever. I finally had my life back.

This gave me the happiest feeling of my life. I hadn't been this happy since before my family had been murdered. I was so happy that I looked up, and caught Bobby in a kiss; he kissed back, and it was all over.

So, what do you think? That is how I wanted it to end. I don't like it when people I like die, but sometimes I have to suck it up. Bobby was an important character, and needed to be alive. If you don't like it, please don't review. I don't need Flames cluttering my inbox.

Tonks