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Helga liked to think she was, if the definition fit, a bit of a badass. In her time on the open road, making dumb choices and surviving worse outcomes, the pig had experienced things most people would go out of their way to avoid. Not that she didn't try to avoid bar brawls, or drug dealers, and gang activity. Bad elements just crossed her path too often in her youth to simply ignore it.

If the pig were being honest, she used to have a deathwish. Settling down in a quiet down fixed that. And Helga never actually flaunted her status around people outside of the leathers she wore. But despite everything she had been through, there was something that not even she could deal with, especially alone.

And, of course, it had to be Rebecca's favorite pastime. "Ok, so I got the classic Texas Chainsaw, the remake, all the Wrong Turn movies." The pitbull sorted through several sets of DVDs she had brought over. Outside of a few sets of clothes, it was all the girl had to her name when they took her in. None of them was anything Helga ever wanted to watch, preferring her films to make her laugh over scream in terror.

"Wrong Turn?" Amethyst asked, returning with a bowl of popcorn at the ready. Her collar was off, currently without her collar as she needed it cleaned. Leather was nice, but without proper care, it'd be ruined. There was no way Helga was going to pay for a replacement because of improper care. She sat down next to her mistress, the loose T-shirt sliding over her shoulder as she leaned in.

"It's a movie about...well it's a slasher." The pittie smiled, "A pretty gory one. Some cool special effects, but the series got kind of terrible story wise."

"Aren't most slashers not great on story?" The vole asked. Helga stayed quiet. She didn't want to say no to Rebecca's wishes, but she also didn't want to actually watch any scary movies. Already she mentally chastised herself for letting the idea scare her.

"You're not wrong. But there are exceptions. None that I have with me though." Back in her box, she smiled and pulled out a DVD. "Butcher's Bay VIII, perfect!"

"Butcher's Bay?" Amethyst tilted her head at the name. "That sounds familiar, but it's not ringing any bells."

"It should. It's only of the most milked slasher horror franchises to date," The pitbull explained, popping it out from the case and checking the disk for any scratches. Helga had heard the term found footage before, reminding her of one particular movie she'd really not relive.

"A slasher?" Amethyst asked, "Like Friday or Nightmare? Aren't those overdone?"

"Yeah, but they're still enjoyable. Unlike found footage movies." Rebecca stuck her tongue out in disgust, "That genre really got noticed back in the late 90's with Blair Witch. Apparently the marketing campaign made it look like it was really a camera people found and turned it into a film. I mean, how stupid could you be to believe that? No way they'd put footage about missing teenagers or whatever in an actual movie." Helga believed it, though back in the late 90's she was lost in love with a wolf that didn't care, so she could point it out as young Helga being stupid.

Putting the disk in, Rebecca took her place beside the pig, reaching over to grab at some popcorn on Amethyst's lap. Taking a deep breath, Helga sunk into the bed and took hold of a spare pillow, breathing deep to calm her nerves. It was just a movie, that's all.

Her fingers dug into the throw pillow throughout the film. Terror slowly wrapped its bony digits around her heart, steadily squeezing with every glimpse of the killer stalking the shadows on camera. Why didn't they just leave the damn house? It's not like that film with the woods keeping them trapped, they could leave. One of their friends were dead, and yet the stupid protagonists kept sticking around to prove something.

Rebecca got up at the sound of a beep, "More popcorn!"

"Don't we have enough?" The vole asked, pointing to the bowl in her lap.

The pitbull brushed off Amethyst's concern, "Nah. I've seen this movie enough times to know how it ends." Helga trembled as if a cold wind passed as Rebecca walked off, eyes glued to the screen and her teeth grinding in anxiety over what was to come.

"Momma, you ok?" Amethyst asked, her touch shocking Helga for a second. The pig sighed, leaning against her submissive college aged girlfriend and closed her eyes.

"I don't do well with horror," She admitted, "I've never done well with it. Tabitha still likes to tease me about the Blair Witch."

Nestling her head against Helga's, the vole took her mistress's hand. "I can tell. Your palms are so sweaty."

"I know it's just a movie...I don't know why I can't just-"

"It's ok," Amethyst whispered, wrapping an arm around the hog and pulling her in. "You don't have to be our tough biker dyke all the time. You know this. It's not like Rebecca is gonna think less of you for being scared of horror movies."

"I just don't want her to think she can't play them. It's all she has left."

"She's got us, and she's happy, silly." Amethyst pressed her lips against the older pig's forehead, "Don't worry so much. And, if it helps, I'm proud of you."

It did help. Helga sighed and opened her eyes, only to be met with a lion skinning a screaming wolf with nothing but a meat hook and a cleaver. "Jesus, Mary, Mother of Fucking God, WHAT THE FUCK?!" The pig screamed.

Rebecca came running back, "Wait, did I miss Clyde's death scene?" She turned to the screen, "Oh damn I did! It's a classic, can we rewind?"

"Nope." Helga got up, raising her hands. "No more of this. You girls can go watch more horror films, I'm going to bed." Despite her shakes, she gave Amethyst a kiss goodnight before heading to the bedroom. Turning in for the night, Helga made a quick text to Tabitha. "Fuck horror movies."

The wolverine responded with only an X and a D.

***

Her leather jacket failed to shield her from the bitter cold blowing against her. Helga shivered, hugging herself tight as her boots trudged through the snow, aimlessly moving step by step through the endless trees surrounding her. "Amy!" She called out, desperate to find her vole. The wind howled in response, her hair wafting in the breeze as though the forest stopped nothing.

Where was she? Whenever Helga tried to think, another gust buffeted her. "Amy!" She cried out again, praying to hear an answer. She needed her to be ok, she had to have her be ok. A light flickered off in the distance, burning as a north star in the night. She charged toward it, the cold air of her breath blocking her vision like a smokey haze until she reached the lot.

Bodies laid out before her, corpses of people she knew. Frank, Jo, Debbie, Alison, Rebecca, and even Tabitha littered the ground, each with a grisly cut across their throats. Her heart froze, feeling a noose tighten around her neck at the sight of her dead sisters. She repeated their names, unable to look away from the terror frozen across their faces. The winter freeze kept her from falling to her knees. Her arms embraced herself tighter, her teeth chattered, begging for the heat of another.

Snow crunched behind her. Turning her head, Helga saw shadows move behind the trees, their outlines bathed in the flickering light of the building. The glint of knives and axes caught her eye as the silhouettes took familiar shapes. None that she cared to see again. Twisting forward, Helga trampled over the corpses of her friends, tears freezing as she hurtled through the front door.

Valhalla, Frank's old bar in Ohio, filled her view. From the smell of cheap booze and leather, to the cracked TV screen. Her vole sat atop the Billiard table, her half buzzed green headfur hiding half of her face as she smiled upon her. "Welcome, Mama."

"A-Amy?" Helga reached for her, brushing her cold hands against the warmth of Amethyst's brown facial fur. Her tears melted as Amethyst nestled into her palm, "Amy!" She shouted, pulling her little punk in and wrapping her arms tight, "I don't...everyone...what..."

"Shh..." Amethyst whispered, "It's ok, I'm here." She was. Helga didn't know what was happening, but she didn't need to so long as her vole was with her. Looking to her smiling face, the pig brushed away her green headfur to stare into both beautiful indigo eyes.

An empty socket stared back, surrounded by scars and burns covering half her face. Helga let go, stepping back in panic at her mutilated lover. "What's wrong, mama?" Amethyst pouted, covering her face and smiling, "Did you not like the makeover?" Helga's back hit something, or someone. Looking up, she met a bloodied glasgow grin of a lion in a police hat. "Don't worry," the vole whispered, "He'll make us match."

Helga's eyes shot open, and her body lurched upward from her bed. Cold sweat poured from her pores, and the sound of her breathing bounced off the walls. It took a moment for her vision to adjust to the darkness, forcing her to feel around the bed for her girlfriend. Amethyst was beside her, already stirring and opening her tired eyes. "Momma? Are you ok?"

The pig answered with a nod, slowly regaining control of her heavy breaths. Amethyst rubbed her eyes and sat up, "Did you have a bad dream?" Helga nodded again, not wanting to admit any details. She couldn't relive the nightmare, not so soon. The vole's tight embrace close against her chest, with her snout nestled between her breasts. "It's ok. I'm here."

She was. Helga wrapped her arm around the girl just to be sure. The best thing that had happened to her in so long. No, despite the vole's love of objectification, Amethyst was no thing. The two slumped back into bed, drifting back to sleep in each other's arms.