PSYCHOPATH

chapter 24: slaughter party

WARNING: graphic depictions of all kinds of abuse and torture, just generally traumatic visuals. please read at your own risk. like please lol

Chapter 24: slaughter party

~ "this creature softened my heart of stone. she died and with her died my last warm feelings for humanity. ~

Time grinded to a sick halt before reality opened up again.

The tingles began, creeping inch by inch up her spine to her neck, like little spiders scuttling across their webs to get to their prey as fast as possible. At first, her brain was blank, then it went cold as if submersed in an ice bath. It felt like someone had pumped liquid nitrogen into her veins, freezing everything down to each individual cell of her body.

Her tongue felt heavy, her throat constricted. Her body was still, except for the hands shaking against her sides. Chest tightening and tightening, it quickly became hard to breathe. Air. Air. You need air.

But she was taking in air. Gasping it in, inhaling it in, but her lungs refused to fill. In fact, they weren't doing anything.

Her body was fighting to move, pulling her back into consciousness with a vicious terrible start. Ella really didn't want to open her eyes. Whatever she was going to see would be bad – wherever she was would be bad – and once she woke up, there would be no more delaying the nightmare in store.

Still, she could not pause the inevitable and Ella was coming back to herself – really coming back to herself, with pain and feeling, with a pulsing headache – she was propped up against something hard. Ella still could not place herself, and was forced to take stock, moving the parts of her limbs that could still respond.

Toes, fingers, wrists, and ankles, all still intact albeit hard to move. She could lift her head, but it was like lifting a bag of rocks. There didn't seem to be any movement in the room with her. It felt alone. That was when Ella decided to peel her eyes open.

Through the fog in her head, Ella took in everything as quickly as she could compute it. She became aware that she was resting against the headboard of a bed, hands next to her lap and legs stretched out in front of her. She was fully dressed, thankfully, but damp, clinging with sweat. Rope was tied tightly around her limbs, connecting her to the bed posts, strapping her into an awkward sitting position that was pulling at the muscles in her back.

She looked around, slowly, her head filled with water and a thick, muffled quiet. She was in a bedroom; it was relatively nicely furnished. The room was done in dark, rich colors, the bed covered in furs, and there were some gaudy animal heads watching her from above. The floor and walls were made of logs, a fireplace across from it, and a wooden rocking chair next to it, faced in her direction. It was warm in the room like the fireplace had been burning hours before. She must be in a cabin. With a sinking acknowledgement, it meant she was in the woods. Far. Isolated. Alone.

This – this was not good.

The realization made her nauseous, and then everything started to spin, and she was sick up on herself, over her sweaty clothes. God, she thought, spitting up the vomit. Some of it ran back into her mouth, sticking to her hair, and partly up into her nose, burning an acidic trail. With it came the startling awakening of her whole body, completely, and she hurt in every single place it was possible to hurt, the pain enough to make her shiver all over.

She pulled at her wrists and ankles. Nothing budged. Someone laughed from across her.

Startled, Ella snapped her head up, dizzy, covered in her own sick, to see James had come in during the daze. How loud had she been? She must be really out of it, to not notice him till then.