Horror Thriller Box Set 1

by Amy Cross

  I'm getting all nostalgic and I'm thinking about the past instead of the present.

  Staring at myself in the mirror, I let out a brief hiss.

  Fuck, I can be terrifying sometimes.

  Holding the razor blade up to my mouth, I tell myself that this is the moment. I gently press the edge of the blade against the enamel of one of my upper cuspids, and I press hard. Slowly, I try to slice down, but the edge of the blade just scrapes along the side of the tooth. Undaunted, I try again, pressing harder this time. Again, however, I meet with no success. Taking a deep breath, I try for a third time, but I scrape the top a little first, hoping to create a scratch mark that I can use. When I scrape down again, I feel some resistance, which is perfect, and I force myself to push and push. It's not easy, and I start to worry that the blade might be about to break, but suddenly the razor slices down and I almost slam my face into the sink. For a moment, I'm not sure if anything happened, but then I spot it: a thin slice of enamel in the basin.

  Checking myself in the mirror, I see that it's a good start, but there's definitely a long way to go.

  I decide to take a slower, more careful approach. Scraping and scraping at the tooth, I manage to get little pieces away until finally, after almost an hour, it's actually beginning to look just a little bit like the vampire fang I'm seeking. It's only now, of course, that I realize I have no way of lengthening the tooth, which means it's gonna look kinda silly, but I figure it'll still work, and maybe it'll just start growing anyway. I keep going, and soon it's a proper, if short, fang. Tilting my head to one side, I hold my lips back and imagine my handiwork.

  Good.

  Not perfect, but good.

  I hiss, and then I smile.

  Figuring that my parents might start getting up around 6am, I decide that I need to work faster. Turning to the other side of my mouth, I start trying to shave away some more enamel. My fingers are getting a little clumsy, and I can feel myself getting more and more tired. Still, I don't have time to succumb to weak human failings, so I just focus on the task at hand. I can do this. I know I can do this. As I work faster and faster, more and more pieces of enamel start dropping into the sink. I don't really have time to stop and check things properly, so I rely on instinct alone. Glancing at my watch, I see that it's approaching 5:30am, which means I need to speed things up. Damn it, why can't my parents just fuck off for once? Why can't they -

  And that's when it happens.

  I don't know if it's carelessness, or if this tooth is different to the first, but somehow I manage to accidentally scrape a little too much away, and the edge of the razor blade digs into the nerve.

  The pain is indescribable. It shoots through my entire body, causing me to drop the blade and fall back. Losing my balance, I slip on the bathroom floor and slam down hard, banging my head against the side of the bath. As I try to recover, the pain arcs through my mind. Raw and exposed, the nerve is screaming. All other thoughts clear from my mind, replaced by pure, undaunted pain. Although I try to keep quiet, I can't help but let out a few gasps as I writhe on the floor, rolling from one side of the bathroom to the other and then back again, all the while clutching at my face and waiting for the pain to go away. It can't last forever. Sooner or later, it has to stop.

  Please God, make it stop.

  After a few minutes, however, it's worse than ever. Every time I move, every time my tongue brushes against the tooth, I feel the pain increase. I try to get up, but all I can manage is to get on all fours. Looking down at the floor, I see to my shock that I'm bleeding a little, either from the tooth or, more likely, from where I cut the side of my mouth as I pulled the blade out. I reach out and try to wipe the blood from the floor, but I just end up smearing it all over the place. Panicking, and starting to shake, I force myself to turn and crawl over to the sink, where I haul myself up just far enough to be able to see my face in the mirror.

  I look like a total fucking mess.

  There's pain in my eyes. Sure, I've had tons of psychological pain over the years, but this is the first true, unadulterated physical pain I've ever experienced. Trembling, I lean closer and look at my blood-stained face. The pain in my tooth is getting worse and worse, throbbing with an intensity that I never thought possible. I carefully hold my lips back and see that the side of the tooth has been completely ripped away, exposing a dark blue mass that I can only assume is the nerve. Damn it, I should have studied the structure of teeth before I started doing this, and I should have worked more slowly. This pain is too much, and I'm not sure if I can handle it much longer.

  I want to scream, but screaming's not an option. My stupid mother would come banging on the door, demanding to know what's wrong. As always, I have to deal with things alone. Grabbing a couple of towels, I start hurriedly trying to wipe up as much of the blood as possible. It doesn't take too long, and then I run the tap and wash all the little pieces of tooth down the sink. Despite the agony, I'm able to get the bathroom sorted out pretty well, and finally I take a step back and see that I've covered my tracks. I take the razor blades before unlocking the door and hurrying through to my room.

  Half an hour later, writhing in agony on the bed as my tooth continues to hurt like a bitch, I hear my mother and father sloping along to the bathroom. They have no idea. No fucking idea at all.

  Chapter Six

  "Did you steal those razor blades?" my mother screams, following me into the kitchen just a couple of minutes after I emerge from my bedroom for lunch.

  "What?" I ask, acting as if it's the most insane idea ever. Luckily, I'm a pretty good liar, and I'm pretty sure I sound totally convincing. She probably can't even tell that I'm in agony.

  "Did you steal them, Adeline?" she shouts. "This is your last chance to be honest with me. Did you, or did you not, steal razor blades from the all-night store?"

  "No!" I mutter, grabbing a glass and pouring myself some water. It's kinda hard to argue with her when I can't look at her properly. The last thing I need is for her to see the injuries to my mouth. However, as soon as I start drinking, the water hits my exposed nerve and I spit the water into the sink. Trembling slightly, I try to keep from screaming.

  "What's wrong with you?" my mother asks. "Adeline, look at me!"

  "I'm fine!" I shout back at her. Why can't she just leave me alone?

  "Look at me!" she says, grabbing my arm and trying to turn me to face her.

  "Fuck you," I mutter under my breath.

  "You're bleeding," she says, sounding more concerned than angry.

  "I'm not bleeding."

  "Let me see!"

  Turning to her, I let out a loud hiss.

  "Adeline, I'm calling Dr. Latimer," she says, taking a step back. There's fear in her eyes. Good. I like it when I scare her. It means she's starting to accept that I'm changing. Not that she can understand me entirely, of course, but it's a good start.

  "I'm fine," I mutter, sounding strong and resolute even though my bottom lip is trembling. The pain from my tooth is intense, and I don't know if I can handle it much longer.

  "I know you stole those razors," she says, staring at me. "I went into the store this morning and Joe Cale showed me the security camera footage."

  "Bullshit," I spit back at her. "I'm not on any security camera footage."

  "You are," she replies. "Oh, Adeline, you most certainly are."

  I shake my head. She's wrong. She has to be wrong. I don't show up on footage. I've tested the theory myself, and I know it's true.

  "Adeline," she continues, her voice trembling a little, "did you hear about that little girl who went missing?"

  "Stupid little bitch," I mutter.

  "It wasn't that far from here," she says. "They're still looking for her."

  "Big deal," I reply, shrugging. "Someone probably grabbed her. Right now, they're -" I stop speaking as suddenly, with crystal-clear clarity, I realize what my mother's talking about. She's doing it in a round-about kind of way, but I swear to God she's testing the
water and seeing if maybe there's any chance that I know what happened to that little girl. My own mother thinks I might go out and randomly kidnap or kill some kid! For a moment, I feel tears start to well up behind my eyes, but finally I tell myself that there's no fucking way I'm going to cry.

  "I'm going to call Dr. Latimer," she continues, clearly trying hard to stay calm, "and then we'll go and see him, okay? And you need to make sure you take your medication. Maybe..." She pauses for a moment. "Maybe pack an overnight bag, Adeline. It's a long drive, and he might think it's a good idea for us to stay. You know how tired I get when I drive." She waits for me to say something. "Does that sound like a good idea? Shall we do that?"

  I stare at her. The last thing I want to do is anything that makes the bitch happy. Still, it might be to my benefit if I'm at least able to get her off my back for a few minutes.

  "I need to clean up," I mutter, stifling the extreme anger that's bubbling under my skin, "but yeah, I'll pack an overnight bag. When do you want to leave?"

  "I'll call him now," she says, grabbing the phone with trembling hands. "We can head off as soon as you're ready. How does half an hour sound?"

  I nod.

  She smiles.

  Pathetic bitch.

  "I'll go and..." I start to say, but my voice trails off. Pushing past her, I make my way through to my room. The poor, stupid cow thinks I'm actually going to get into her car and let her drive me to see Latimer. The odds of that happening, however, are zero. I'm never going near Latimer's office again, especially if my insane mother thinks that there's even a chance that I was involved with that little girl's disappearance. Despite everything that's happened, I'm still shocked that she could even consider the possibility that I'd do something like that. This is exactly the kind of problem I've been dealing with my whole life. My mother's a bitch, and my father's a bastard, and they think I'd kill a kid. A little kid. Not like Kerry. An actual, little kid.

  As I push my bedroom door shut, I glance across at the window and I realize that, despite the agony in my mouth and tooth, and despite the fact that it's only Friday night, I have to bring my plan forward. Kerry Herbert has to die tonight.

  Chapter Seven

  By the time I've climbed out of my bedroom window and made my way quietly away from the house, it's still only lunchtime, which means I've got maybe twelve hours before I can go and get Kerry. The delay is definitely a complication, but I figure I can manage, so I head across town and out into the woods. By the time I'm among the trees, I can't help but smile at the thought of my panicked mother realizing that I've done a runner. She'll probably call the police and ask them to help find me, though I doubt she'll get much luck. Right now, the police are more concerned about finding that little girl, and they already know what I'm like. They'll just tell my mother that I'm off doing something crazy, and they'll tell her to stop worrying. I'm sure they'll try to pick me up later, but by then they'll be too late.

  Idiots.

  My stomach rumbles as I keep walking. I should have eaten something before I left, but I didn't have time to think clearly. Besides, it's probably a good idea to fast for the rest of the day, since I'm going to have such a huge feast once I get hold of Kerry. Deciding that I need to build up my strength ahead of tonight's fun, I eventually find a small, secluded area of wild and untamed undergrowth, and I crawl into the bushes. More than anything, I need to sleep, even though the pain in my mouth is intense. Hell, if I can't sleep, then at least I can relax a little.

  Somehow, I manage to drift off for a while. Either that, or I pass out. When I wake up, the sky is getting dark, and I see that it's almost 9pm. Climbing out of the bush, I wipe some fresh blood from the side of my mouth, and I quickly discover that one side of my face is slightly swollen. I guess the cut has become infected, but none of this is gonna be a problem in the long-term. Although my tooth is still hurting, it's a totally bearable kind of pain, and it seems to have become something I can ignore. Feeling slightly weak, I walk slowly and carefully back toward town, aware that my reserves of energy are a little low and therefore need to be conserved. I'm so close to the finish line, but I need to pace myself properly.

  I make my way through the dark streets. A light rain is falling, and I have to duck into the shadows a couple of times as people drive past. There are still tons of police cruisers out looking for the missing little girl, and I can't discount the possibility that my asshole of a mother might have somehow managed to mobilize some cops to keep an eye out for me. I guess she probably brought up my previous problems in an attempt to persuade them that I need help. Hell, she might even have claimed that I'm dangerous. Still, I'm a step ahead of everyone else, and I manage to make it to Kerry's house without being noticed.

  Heading through to the back garden, I find that there's no-one at home. Her parents have obviously already left for their weekend away, and Kerry's probably at her netball or handball practice or whatever the hell it is that she does on Friday nights. I take some time to take a look around, and then finally, to my surprise, I find that the back door has been left unlocked. For a moment, I can't help but wonder whether it's some kind of trap, but finally I realize that there's no way anyone knows I'm coming here. I slip inside the dark house and decide that I need to hide myself somewhere. After all, I've got the benefit of being able to surprise the bitch, but I need to make that advantage count. I have no idea when she'll be getting home, but I have to be poised and ready to strike at any moment. Sometimes, I feel as if I'm like a coiled predator, hunting these pathetic humans with ease.

  By midnight, I've thoroughly explored the house, making sure to keep the lights off at all times. I even helped myself to some snacks from the fridge, just to top my energy levels up a little. Taking a look around Kerry's parents' bedroom, I'm just starting to wonder when the stupid little bitch might actually be coming home, when I hear the front door open, followed by the sound of someone coming inside. I hurry to the top of the stairs and peer around the corner, and sure enough I see Kerry dropping her kit bag on the floor. She locks the front door before heading through to another part of the house, and I realize that she doesn't suspect a thing. So far, my plan is going perfectly, but I'm keenly aware that even the slightest mistake could cause things to go horribly wrong. If I make even the slightest noise, she'll almost certainly bolt and call for help.

  For some reason, Kerry doesn't come upstairs straightaway. Instead, I have to wait and listen while she spends almost an hour messing around downstairs. First, she spends some time in the kitchen, making something to eat, and then she takes a long shower. With the pain in my tooth getting worse and worse, I find myself starting to lose patience, but fortunately I'm able to suppress my human side and focus on getting the job done. I remind myself that I have infinite patience and that I've got all night to get this job done if necessary. The last thing I need is to get panicked and end up letting her slip away. In my weakened state, desperately short of food and energy, I need to simplify the whole damn process as much as possible. The bitch is mine. I just need to reel her in.

  Eventually, I hear Kerry start to come upstairs. Retreating into the shadows of her darkened bedroom, I feel my heart start to pound as I realize that the moment has arrived. There's no backing out, no chance of changing my mind. I'm standing here, hidden behind the door in her dark room, and I'm going to strike as soon as she enters. I swear to God, I expected to be calmer than this, but my heart is beating so hard, and I've got this horrible grinding sensation in my stomach as if I might throw up at any moment. I'm about to cross the line between human and vampire, and in the process I'll be seizing control of my destiny. This is what I've been waiting for, it's the chance for me to prove that I'm far more than just some pathetic human. Holding my breath for what feels like forever, I wait until I hear Kerry's footsteps nearby, and finally she walks through the door and then stops just a meter away, with her back to me.

  I hesitate for a second.

  I can do this.

&nbs
p; I almost attack, and then I wait.

  I can do this!

  I hesitate again.

  And then I strike.

  Launching myself at her, I knock her to the ground and make sure to remain on top of her while she struggles. It's still dark in here, but I have the benefit of being better accustomed to the lack of light. She lets out a brief scream, but I put one hand on the back of her head and push her face into the carpet. She struggles, and she's stronger than I'd expected, but fortunately I'm able to keep her under control even though she's trying desperately to kick me. For a moment, I pause as I try to decide what to do next. I want to knock her out, but I don't want her to die yet and I'm worried that I might be stronger than I realize. I glance across the room, hoping to see something I can use, and that's when I make a big mistake: I allow myself to get distracted for a fraction of a second, and that's enough for her to throw me to one side.

  Slamming into the side of the closet, I immediately turn and see her racing to her bedroom door. I hurry after her and manage to catch up to her just as she reaches the top of the stairs. With no other options right now, I throw myself at her back and manage to put my weight on her shoulders, sending her toppling forward. We slide down the stairs, but fortunately I'm able to remain on top so it's Kerry's body that bears the brunt of the force. When we reach the bottom, I immediately climb off her and turn back to see that she's dazed but still conscious. We make eye contact for a fraction of a second, and then she screams.

  So I knee her in the face.

  She falls back, blood pouring from her nose.

  Clamping my hand over her mouth, I try to make her shut the fuck up. I pull her closer and force her mouth shut, and then I wait as she struggles and tries to get free. She's desperately trying to breathe, and her smothered snorts are spraying blood between my tightly-clamped fingers.

  "There's no point!" I hiss at her. "Just stop it!"

  Her wide, terrified eyes stare at me.