“Ah!” Quinn cried out in agony as she watched the blade rip back out through the chute wall. Quinn cried in terror as she watched the knife stab through the chute wall…again and again…the figure hacking at it from below. “Oh, God!” Quinn cried as she crawled up the chute, faster and faster…her bloody, mangled hand tight to her chest. She was almost there! Just a few more inches!
She reached above with her good hand as it tightened around the ledge of the opening door above. She glanced back down the chute…to see the figure staring up at her from the bottom opening. The sinister baby doll mask sent chills down Quinn’s spine as she glanced back up to the opening.
Quinn pulled herself up as she shoved the laundry chute door open. She was almost out. She was almost free. Quinn stared into her empty bathroom through the opening as she pulled herself out. Quinn collapsed onto the white tile floor as she sobbed in pain. She had to act now! She had to act fast! Quinn quickly rose to her feet, throwing the silk robe off her body as she rushed towards the open bathroom door ahead.
She lunged forward…her hand pressed tightly against the door. She began to push it shut…as the figure rushed up to the other side. The figure threw their leg up, their boot slamming into the door. Quinn screamed as the wooden door swung open, the edge of it smashing into her face.
“Ah!” Quinn cried out as she tumbled back from the blow, leaned over the edge of the sink counter. Blood gushed from her broken, crooked nose as the masked figure rushed inside behind her. Quinn quickly looked into the mirror as she watched the figure raise their knife…and stab it into the soft tender flesh of her back. Quinn let out a painful scream as she could feel the blade scrape against her spine. “Please! Please!” Quinn begged as black tears rolled down her cheeks. The figure snatched the curling iron from the sink counter, the plug ripping from the outlet.
The figure’s stomach pressed against her back as she struggled to move from the sink counter. But she was stuck in place…pinned tightly. The figure wrapped the white cord of the curling iron quickly around Quinn’s neck from behind…and tugged on it.
“Ah! No!” Quinn said, her words clogged in her throat as she gasped for air. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head…as she struggled to breath. Her undamaged hand rose to her neck as her nails clawed at the white wire wrapped around her neck…the figure pulling on it harder and harder from behind. Quinn stared back at her reflection in the mirror as she struggled to breath…her face turning purple.
The masked figure then grabbed the hot curling iron that hanged from the cord wrapped around Quinn’s neck. Their left arm wrapped tightly around her neck, pinning Quinn’s back to their chest. Quinn tried to scream…she tried to fight…but she was overpowered. She was defeated.
The masked figure then rose the scorching curling iron up into the air with their free hand…and stabbed it towards Quinn’s face.
The tip of the hot curling iron stabbed into Quinn’s left eye…the wand sizzling as the figure stabbed it deeper into her eye socket. Quinn cried out, her sobs muffled by the wire tightening around her neck. Blood gushed from her eye socket as the killer released her…the curling iron still sticking out from her eye socket.
The masked figure then grabbed the back of Quinn’s head…and slammed it forward. Quinn’s face smashed into the gigantic mirror above the sink as the glass shattered into a million pieces. The handle of the curling iron slammed into the wall behind the mirror…driving the iron deeper into Quinn’s eyes socket…and into her head.
The figure released Quinn’s limp body as it fell onto the bloody, glass-covered floor. The killer’s dark eyes stared down at her from behind the cracked baby doll mask. Glass shards stuck out from Quinn’s bloody face, the sizzling curling iron still sticking out from her gushing eye socket.
One down…
Three to go.
IN THE DARK
“Where in the hell are Ethan and Burke?” Reese snapped as she paced impatiently through Blake Brantley’s living room. A flash of lighting filled the dim living room with light as the rain splattered against the large bay window looking out to the back patio. The last time she had been here…in this house…was the night that Riley died; the night her life changed forever.
“I have no damn clue. I’ve called him three times and nothing,” Jessie sighed from the sofa beside Blake as she checked her cellphone again.
“Why don’t you just tell us what the hell is going on?” Blake said as he stared at the massive flat screen TV mounted above the brick fireplace across from the sofa. He clicked the remote, again and again…changing the channel faster and faster as his patience began to run thin. Reese snatched the remote from Blake’s strong hands and turned the TV off. She threw the remote down onto the glass coffee table as she pulled out Riley’s tangled golden locket from her cardigan pocket.
“This is what’s going on, Blake,” Reese said as her voice trembled. Jessie leaped to her feet as she walked towards Reese, getting a closer look.
“Where the hell did you find it?” Jessie asked, her eyes wide.
“It was sent to me in the mail. It was on my damn bed when I got home; no return address,” Reese said as Jessie took the locket from her and held it in her tiny palm.
“How the hell do you even know it’s hers?” Blake asked as he leaned forward and sipped from the beer bottle in his hand. “What if someone is just fucking around with you?”
“It has her initials on the back, Blake! This was hers! She was wearing it that night until…” Reese then stopped as she shook her head to herself. She turned away from Jessie as her hands massaged her pounding forehead.
“What kind of joke is that, anyway? That’s sick,” Jessie said to Blake as she shook her head in disbelief.
“Have you met the people we go to school with?” Blake smirked as he leaned back onto the huge sectional.
“I knew from the very beginning that this wasn’t an accident,” Reese said as she spun around towards them.
“How? How the hell do you know that?” Blake asked as he picked at the label on his beer bottle.
“She only had three beers that night, Blake,” Reese snapped.
“Yeah, well after three beers, I’m feeling pretty fucking lit. I mean, your sister weighed, like, eighty pounds…thirty of that was her tits,” Blake smirked as he shrugged. Reese turned away from him as her blood boiled from the crude comment.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Jessie snapped to Burke. “Can you not just be a normal human being for five fucking seconds? Or is being a jackass just in your blood?”
“You’ve met my dad, so you should already know the damn answer to that,” Blake smiled coyly as he raised his beer to Jessie. Jessie rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms and turned away.
“God, you’re an asshole,” Jessie groaned.
“OK, let’s just pretend for one second…that someone did push Riley over the balcony that night. Who the hell would do that to her? I mean, come on, Reese; everybody loved her,” Blake said as he stood up.
“For all I know, it could have been you,” Reese growled as she spun around towards Blake.
“Are you being serious right now?” Blake asked in shock.
“Yeah, I am! I don’t remember seeing you much that night,” Reese said.
“Guys, just stop! Stop fighting!” Jessie begged.
“You want to put this shit on me? What about you, Reese, huh?” Blake yelled, inching towards Reese.
“Are you seriously suggesting that I’d kill my own sister?” Reese growled as she stepped towards Blake, her fists clenched at her sides. She wasn’t backing down…not anymore.
“I mean, maybe you were jealous of her? She was a lot more popular than you, Reese! She had a lot more friends…a lot more guys drooling over her! I mean, you can’t point the finger at somebody and not expect them to point theirs right back at you!” Blake yelled, spit spraying from every word as a vein rose from the side of his neck…his face, beet red.
Reese ros
e her hand…and swung it against Blake’s cheek, slapping him. Jessie covered her mouth in shock as she stepped back slowly…too scared to get too close. Blake’s jaw tightened as he looked back to Reese in front of him. The muscles along the side of his forehead pulsated as his eyes narrowed onto Reese.
A loud roar of thunder then rolled through the sky above them…
As the lights went out…
SNAPPED
Every corner of the Brantley house was consumed by darkness as Reese quickly grabbed Jessie’s hand tightly. Blake’s eyes scanned the dark living room as he sat his beer down onto the coffee table.
“Relax, it’s just the storm,” Blake scoffed as he turned and walked towards the living room doorway ahead that lead to the kitchen.
“Where the hell are you going?” Jessie asked, her voice laced with fear.
“To check the fuse box,” Blake said as he stopped and shrugged. “Unless you guys want to sit here in the damn dark.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s a wonderful idea! Totally not cliché at all! Let’s just split up and wander around this big ass house in the dark,” Jessie sighed sarcastically as she rolled her eyes.
“For the love of God, Jessie; you’ve got to stop watching those dumb ass movies,” Blake said as he shook his head and headed towards the kitchen doorway. “You guys go look for some flashlights! I think there are some in my parent’s dresser upstairs,” Blake added over his shoulder.
Blake pulled his phone from his pocket as he turned on a flashlight app. He shuffled through the dark kitchen and towards the basement door in the corner. His sweaty hands wrapped around the cold, metal knob as he pulled the door open, the hinges creaking loudly. He stared down the set of dark and dusty steps that lead down to the basement below. He held his phone in front of him…the small ray of light illuminating the stairs below. He took a deep breath…nodded to himself…and descended the stairs.
Blake’s free hand glided along the cold, concrete basement walls as he inched down the stairs. Each creaky step, sounding off beneath his athletic shoes.
“Now, I just need to pretend like I know what I’m doing,” Blake smirked to himself as he moved off the last step and looked around the large, messy basement. He inched slowly through the darkness, his phone in front of him…the only light supply. “Now where the hell are you?”
Blake stepped around a stack of water stained boxes and inched around a large, wooden support column in front of him. He turned to his right…to see the washing machine and dryer in the corner. A large stack of dirty clothes were piled high in a basket.
“Totally gonna get my assed chewed for not doing those, later,” Blake sighed as he turned from the laundry area and made his way deeper into the dark, silent basement. The light beamed through the darkness as he finally spotted the fuse box along the far-right wall next to a storage cabinet. “There you are…”
Blake glanced to the small basement windows that were leveled with the front lawn; the rain pouring down and splattering on their glassy surfaces. Blake stopped at the fuse box as he placed his phone on top of the storage cabinet. He pulled the small fuse box door open and looked inside at the numerous switches inside.
“Good God, how many fucking switches does this house need?” Blake groaned as he stared at the complicated mess in front of him.
CREAK!
Blake spun around…as he heard the sound behind him. His eyes squinted in the darkness…as they scanned the chaotic mess of boxes and furniture surrounding him.
“Jessie? Reese?” Blake called out. Blake listened…holding his breath. “Don’t fuck with me, guys! Seriously!” Blake growled as he turned back to the fuse box in front of him. He ran his finger along the inside of the tiny door…to see a chart displaying the switches with their assigned categories.
“F-12…” Blake said softly as he grabbed the correct switch and flipped it. He looked up at the bare lightbulb in the center of the basement.
Nothing.
“Fuck it,” Blake said as he shrugged and began to flip all the switches, this way and that. But nothing. Not a single one of them was bringing the power back. “Son of a bitch,” Blake snapped as he slammed the fuse box door shut and made his way back towards the stairs ahead.
Blake walked passed the dryer and washing machine and made his way up the creaky steps that lead towards the basement door ahead. Blake reached the top, grabbed the door knob, and tried to turn it.
But the door…was locked.
“Are you kidding me right now,” Blake groaned as he shoved his phone into his pocket. He grabbed the knob with both hands, twisting it and turning it every way that he could. “Guys, come on! Open the door!” Blake called out as he placed his ear to the wooden surface. He stepped back, both hands on the knob, and slammed his shoulder against it…but nothing. The door was tightly secured. “Guys! Seriously! Open the God damn door!”
Blake listened as he heard the lock click from the other side. The door knob turned…as the door pushed open softly.
“I hope you guys found some flashlights because…” Blake then stopped. His eyes narrowed onto the cloaked figure standing in front of him, blocking the doorway. The figure tilted their head to the right as Blake’s eyes stared back at the baby doll mask covering their face. “What the fuck?”
The figure then rose their leg and kicked forward. The bottom of their black boot plowed into Blake’s stomach. Blake tumbled backwards as he let out a scream. His body fell back and tumbled down the hard, creaky stairs…his body twisting and turning, slamming hard onto each step on the way down. Blake fell from the last step and slammed onto his back on the cold, concrete basement floor.
“Fuck! God damn it!” Blake cried out as he sat up slowly, blood trickling from his head. His eyes widened as he stared at his right leg. The sharp, stinging pain shot up through his calf as he stared at the sharp, snapped femur bone protruding through his shin. Blood trickled from the gapping wound as warm tears streamed down his face. “What the fuck! What the fuck!” Blake cried out as he looked up to the basement door above…as the masked figure slammed the basement door shut…and slowly began to climb down the stairs. Blake’s eyes widened as he watched the figure run the long, sharp, glistening blade of their bowie knife along the concrete wall.
“Someone! Someone, help me!” Blake cried out as he turned onto his stomach and began to limp up. He shifted his weight onto his broken leg…as the femur bone snapped further through the front of his bloody shin. “Ah!” Blake cried out in agony as he fell back onto the ground. Blake glanced over his shoulder as he crawled along the cold floor, dragging himself as quickly as possible. The figure…looming closer and closer…moving slowly down the stairs. Blake clawed at the concrete floor, his nails digging into the slick surface as he struggled to pull his dead weight behind him. Blake looked up…the dryer just a few feet away. He planted his elbows into the floor, dragging himself faster and faster towards the dryer. He needed support to stand. He had to get to it…before they got to him.
Blake finally reached the dryer. His hand grabbed at the closed door as he struggled to pick himself up. The dryer door then swung open as Blake pulled onto it with all his weight. Blake fell back to the floor and onto his stomach as he cried in pain.
“Please! Please, stop!” Blake cried as he watched the masked figure rush to his side. The figure placed their knife onto the washing machine and leaned down. “What are you doing? No! No!” Blake cried as the figure grabbed the back of his shirt, dragging him up onto his knees.
The figure tightened their grip onto the back of Blake’s neck with both hands…and smashed his head through the small, circular window of the dryer. Blake cried in pain as the thick glass shattered and fell to the floor. Blake’s head and neck…now sticking through the center of the broken circular window of the dryer. The figure then placed one hand onto the back of Blake’s head and one onto the back of his neck.
“What the fuck are you doing? Stop! No! No!” Blake cried out as the figure applied p
ressure onto him. Blake’s eyes widened as he stared down at the remaining layer of large glass shards lining the bottom rim of the broken dryer window. “Reese! Somebody help!”
The figure pressed harder onto Blake’s neck and head. Blake struggled to resist…as he tried to push against the masked figure’s force. But it was too much…Blake was too weak…
The figure pressed one last time onto the back of Blake’s head and neck…as the large glass shards lining the bottom of the circular window stabbed and sliced into his tender throat. Blake’s eyes widened as blood flowed from his neck…the glass shards shredding his throat. The figure pressed…harder and harder…the glass shards cutting through his entire neck like butter.
The shards stabbed through the back of Blake’s neck...as the tissue and flesh separated from his head. Blake’s decapitated fell from his upper torso and slammed onto the concrete floor as blood spewed out from the nub where his head once was.
***
Jessie and Reese pounded their fists onto the locked basement door. They had just found some flashlights and came back downstairs when they heard Blake’s pleads for help. But the door was locked. No matter how hard they tried…no matter how hard they pounded on the door…it wouldn’t budge.
“Blake! Blake, open the door!” Reese cried out, her raw hands beating against the wooden surface.
“What the fuck is going on?” a deep voice rang out from behind them. Jessie spun around to see Burke rush into the kitchen, confusion and fear plastered on his face.
“Blake is in the basement! He was screaming! We can’t get it!” Jessie cried out, her voice quivering.
“Did you try the lock?” Burke yelled as he rushed to the door and turned the knob rapidly with both hands.
“Yes! It’s jammed! We’ve tried everything!” Reese cried out.
“Get the fuck back!” Burke yelled. Jessie and Reese quickly stepped back from the jammed basement door as Burke grabbed the handle tightly…and slammed his muscular shoulder into the door.
Are You Alone in the House Page 5