Love at Death's Door [COMPLETE]

Final Chapter

There was a feeling in the air, something that existed firmly between overwhelming dread and electric excitement. The upcoming confrontation between Tatiana, Edward, and their captor, the Haysfield Butcher, was fast approaching, and like a twisted, high stakes casino game, the result would be everything or nothing. Life or death.

Tatiana and Edward used nearly every second of their five-minute curfew to pilfer as much plunder as possible. In the rooms along the hall leading to their destination, Edward procured a crowbar and a bloodstained kitchen knife, while Tatiana opted for a small but weighty hammer. Now that she lacked her right hand, the woman needed a weapon that could be effectively wielded with the clumsy imprecision of a non-dominant grip. After securing their weapons, the pair made their way to the end of the hall. The only thing that stood between them and their potential freedom was a pair of large, double doors.

"Are you ready?" Edward asked, nervously.

"As I'll ever be. Like I said, let's go kill this bastard."

With Tatiana's strong words resounding in their minds, the duo pushed open the tall, metal doors and entered inside. The room that greeted them was larger than they expected and filled with aging machinery. Shockingly, in contrast to the halls outside the room that were lit only by a series of dim, red lights, this room was fully illuminated.

"I don't get it," Tatiana started. "Did they never cut the power to this place?"

"They should have. Either this guy has his own generators hidden somewhere, or he has friends in high places looking the other way."

"Not sure I like those implications. Aside from that, why would he turn the lights on in here, anyway?"

"Because I'm sick of chasing you rats around in the dark!" the Butcher answered, seemingly appearing from nowhere. "Besides, my viewers made it very clear to me that they want to see every gory detail of your deaths."

The Butcher's booming voice startled the pair, and for the first time since sustaining his injury, he stood across from them, allowing them to observe him. He still wore his burlap mask, but under the bright lights, his bloodshot glare was clearly visible. Just as Tatiana had taunted, his deep, bleeding wound had been hastily patched up with thick pieces of duct tape. Finally, in his left hand, he tightly gripped a long, bloody machete—the same machete that Edward had plunged into his body.

"Of course they do," said Tatiana, finally responding to the murderer. "But they're gonna have to settle for watching you die instead. Don't worry though, I promise to make it plenty entertaining for them."

The Butcher laughed briefly, a fit of coughing ending his enjoyment as quickly as it began. The killer growled at the thought of showing his prey any level of weakness as he clutched his covered wound.

"You're welcome for that, by the way," Edward bragged, his eyes glued to his handiwork.

"Ah, yes. The more forgettable of the two. I've been fantasizing so much about watching the life slowly leave that wench's eyes that I nearly forgot about you."

"Don't pretend you'd ever forget about me," said Edward. "Must've been hell pulling that machete out of you. Let me guess, you're going to kill me with it as revenge?"

"No, I'm going to kill you with this."

Before the man or woman ever noticed what was happening, a deafening bang echoed throughout the large room. Tatiana jolted at the unexpected noise and blinked rapidly. When her eyes ceased their movement, they locked onto an object in the Butcher's right hand. Its form was unmistakable.

It was a handgun.

A sickening thud coincided with Tatiana's realization, instantly drawing her attention. On the floor beside her was Edward Smith. The man was wide-eyed, flat on his back with a hole in his shirt from which a pool of crimson grew ever larger.