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PG-18 Lovelorn and Alone

Skull Tooth

"When life is precious, death is paramount."
Ding! Elevator ringed amidst the dead silence surrounding them, enforcing
discomforting anxiety. A long pause, the doors by and by; uproaring snicker bellowed from the confines of the steel box. A tall, thin man, blonde locks touching the surface of his rawboned shoulders. White sleeveless shirt torn at the arms, ravaged by unknown stains Briana would rather remain incoherent to. Lightly blue tented baggy jeans splattered with mud and otherworldly coagulated fluids. The worst of it all; the one sight she could never run from- a snaring grin from the darkest hollows of Hell. Blood that coursed through her veins ran cold and Trenton froze with fear. Staring down a behemoth, statues overcame by terror could not shake- cold ransacked their fibers. Screams forced away by the presence of great malevolence in one sinister glare, putty in his hands.

Trenton knew not what to make of such an atrocious sight; his eyes shook at the hands
of madness. Stared into the cavity of insanity, remorseless fingers tickling his mentality perversely. Abused, his mind crippled and stopped dead; an unstoppable force destroying cognitive thoughts maliciously fierce and with no regrets. Intelligible notions a thing of the past when staring into the mountains of madness, opening its jaws; chewing to spit him out in, besmirching the ground unapologetically. Briana met the same fate, nails biting into his flesh with no retort. Depravity unkind to the innocent, redrum painted on the walls in the colors of red. The grinning man's fingers seemed to wish unthinkable things upon their throats, tormenting methodology present in the flex of each twitching appendage. Their faces would match rainbows before he bashed their heads right the fuck in. The rumbles in his breath ungodly, distorted rasps beyond any human capability.

"I heard Silverpilen has entered the station. ALL ABOARD!!!" Tucked behind him, an
old lumberjack axe with a stained wooden handle and blood-splattered cracked head piece. The soiled surface unshielded their wavering leers from their reflections. Lives flashing before them- they knew it was all over.

The woodchopper raised high in the air, time slowed to a standstill; time cutting at the
swing of the blade. Down on Trenton's head it went, lodging into his cranium. His head convulsive- impulsive spasms hitherto his frame falling backwards. Wry attempts to pry the weapon from Trenton's head failed and Briana finally found her voice in cries like that of a banshee. Piercing screeches filled the hotel's nucleus and she hooked tail as quickly as she could. The casino was the closest -and largest- room; with all the tables and booths -even a bar- she could hide there.

"Theerre wee goo!" The axe fighting against the muscle and bone, eventually freed.
Whacks reverberated from behind her, tear ducts swelling and leaking, fading her vision. "How do you like that, huh? Have a little of this!" Another hack. "And a little of that!" A sickening repeat of skin turning to mincemeat. "And this! And that! And this and that and this and a little of that!"

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck?! What the fuck is going on?! She tucked
herself in the falsehood of solitude. Hex on her night finally lifted, she thought the Gods answered her prayers; now she knew she lived in a fantasy world. Always predisposed to shit rolling down hill. Her brain goop oozed, pulled and weeped from her orifices into a quagmire threatening to stick like hot glue. The voices in her mind trapped her in a straightjacket as she bounced from wall to wall in hopes for escape; an escape that never came. Her friends always suggested therapy; what would sitting in a chair, pouring the confines of her hostile personality she kept chained deep in her core do? Taking pills to numb the pain only temporary- they would soon return and breed like cockroaches; crawl with tiny legs all over the surface, scratching at her, exposing the weak tendons and tissue. Now, her fears manifested in the contour of an axe murderer hacking her boyfriend to pieces. He was a douche; a lazy douche cycloning her down a helix of manic depression whose only cure was the lines across her arms from a razor blade, but even he did not deserve this.

If she could, she would reject her malcontented thoughts, try to work something out with
him. Anything for something normal; his big, strong arms wrapping around her and washing away this incubus. She just wanted to disappear, take herself off the face of the planet and rest in the everburning fires below. If the skin melted off her bones and into ash where she once stood- she would find peace; anything was better than her melancholic heart rupturing the plugs in her brain always in mental agony. Maybe she should stop running from the axe, let it dismember her head from her shoulders. She could die in peace, hopefully meet Trenton on the other side. Oh Trenton. She was sorry for how things ended up- he did not deserve that. What a horrible way to die. Maybe if she acted quicker, she could have saved him. Who was she kidding, though? How could anyone beat that monster? So vicious; no remorse; a man void of humanity who would drown a baby in the bathtub just to hear the weeps of the parents. Would he kill them first? No; tie them up, absolutely; force them to watch as he subjected their children to heinous acts of deformity. Black clouds moved in from the south over the world; a storm was building from down under. It would flood the Earth- drown everyone in miasma and dribble.

The thunder rolled in, lightning flashed above; another soul cold on a night of insomnia.
Windows red, thick sanguine fluid fell from the sky- maybe God's bloody tears weeping for his lost children. If only He could sweep them up in the beams of rapture, pull them to the Heavens and blanket them in serenity. Shut their eyes to the ways of the world, remind them paradise awaits on the other side. God, rest His soul, died the day this creature came into the world, unfortunately. Absent, His beloved children fended for themselves on this lonely hunk of rock. Briana tucked herself behind the bar, daring eyes peered over the surface. No form stood in the door frame; no point counting chickens- not all hatched yet. Ducked down, hand rough against her mouth- muffled breaths. Lustful growls encompassed the room- he was here.

"Little piiiiig," snarl heart pumping; skin rasing. "Where'd you go?"

"I think she went to the market," derided a masculine attempt at the female voice. "Or
did she stay home?" Demonic laughter bellowed. "Maybe she had roast beef, or is she mad she had none?"

Boots tread the tile; tears fell; back pressed against the bar. Her heart could grow legs,
burst from her chest and run for its life. She danced with the devil under the moonlight in a hellish hotel. Maybe she could hurl glasses at him, shoot him in the face with beer- distract him so she could run. Where would she go? The exit to her freedom barred by faulty electrical wires, she would have to fight if she would survive. THIS is why she hated horror movies: freaked her the fuck out! Now stuck in one, what could she do? Strength beyond her reach, punching him in the face would not work. She could scratch his eyes out; question was: would he overpower her? Of course he would. Trapped like a rat, she was dead meat. A hand slammed down on the surface of the bar, eyes slowly lifted. He was staring down at her, face smeared in ichor.

"THERE SHE IS!!!" Grin of malice, eyes demoralizing. Addiction was usually at the
hands of a syringe or a rolled up bill, his came at the expense of others. His instrument an axe, playing a melodic hue of agonizing screams. The axe his baton, he waved it around, conducting many symphonic melodies. Mouth tentatively gaped open, irises shook with fright. He found me! Oh God he found me!

"Hi little piggy. Are you gonna go wee wee all the way home, now?" Callused fingers
ruffled many strands of her hair; pulled her from her hiding spot. Smooth fingers ripped and tore at the flesh of his wrist- strived to pry away to no avail.

"This little piggy likes to fight!" Her head rocked against the floor; a harsh toss to the
floor put her in a daze. She was sure the axe would descend from the Heavens- it did not. "I like pigs who fight. You have five minutes, little pig!"

A chase? What sick perversion spawned this freak? And what was with the little pig
reference? Did he think all his victims were pigs? Scalp was on fire- he could have pulled some hair out. Fingers searched for blood- they were clean. He gave her five minutes, maybe she could find a way out; or she could open a window and scream for help. Was a guard on patrol? Circling the parking lot in mundane movements? Probably met his fate at the hands of the serial killer. Gathering all the strength mustered in her tiny frame, pulled herself to her feet; turning a corner. Instantaneously, the soles of her feet skated, twisting her body to a face-plant in crimson. Hands stung; wrists near broke; nose impossibly not broke on impact. Covered in filth, more screams echoed- realized she covered in Trenton's bloody entrails and body fluids. His head stared, laid on its side with eyes rolled to the back. Mouth left open, organs and appendages strung everywhere. Oh God!

Again, she pushed to her feet. Lucky she wore her red dress- covered the stains well.
Could not speak the same for her tanned skin- painted in ichor. She hastened to the elevator, bloody footprints dirtied the tiles. Frantic, shaking fingers tried the button.

"Come o-o-o-on!" Panic stricken, virtuous patience could ride right the fuck out and fuck
itself. A killer thrilled by the chase wanted her noggin on a plaque. At long last, the doors slid apart, rushed inside. Pressed for any floor, five being a coincidence. Again, at the panicking pressing for the doors to close, "COME ON!"
 
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