Terrible Trilogy

Part 21

"FFUCKER!!-" His scream was cut off by the chair crashing against the floor.

His face was on fire, you didn't even get his eyes as much as you could have but the fumes on his face were enough to blind him. He felt like peeling his skin off; it burnt so bad and it got worse within the last 30 seconds you sprayed him and ran out that damn door.

He coughed and wheezed, hacking up spit as he rushed to the bathroom sink. Jerking the handle on as he groaned in pain. Splashing as much cold water as he could on his face, rubbing at his skin with groans of irritated pain before wiping it off with the nearest towel. He threw it hard against the wall, face still burning and barely able to keep his eyes open as his nose ran like a sieve. He could have rinsed his eyes more but getting them clear enough to get to you was his main priority.

Billy ran to the window, ready to rip open that door and hope you were in that parking lot to kill you. He didn't care if he could barely open his eyes without feeling like someone rubbed them with the hottest hell fire; he would kill you for this in the parking lot and deal with Stu later. That was, he thought he would, before his stomach sank.

…There you were, sitting with wide eyes in a car he tried to make out. He forced his eyes open as he caught a glimpse of dark hair and a reflective little badge on the drivers jacket. He could feel his lips peel back in a sneer as his chest heaved…Saying you fucked up wasn't even close to the word right now….You were as good as dead.

He watched you leave and there was NOTHING he could do about it. Not with his face on fire or his eyes burning so badly. Definitely not with you in that car with a man that could end his life in more ways than one.

You were going to tell them everything. You were going to have cops ransacking the motel any minute now. He was done. Every day of miserable life he spent avoiding the police, going from a rich lawyer's son to in his eyes a complete failure, WASTED. All because of you.

He didn't care that he could hear a door beside the room open and close as someone left or that he was destroying a motel room that could get him caught.

All he could do was take his hunting knife, straddle the nearest pillow on the bed and stab the ever loving shit out of it. "YOU FUCKING!! STUPID! BITCH!! FUCKING DUMB!! PIECE OF SHIT!!" He stabbed faster and harder, so much rage at what you just did to him flowing through him. It was like Woodsboro again or even when he watched Cotton shoot his Mom.

Everyone was out to get him. Everyone stabbed him in the back. No one was safe to trust. Not after what he did, not anymore. Not after what you did, not after what Stu did in the shed, after…

That idea made him stab harder with an enraged yell. The fantasy of stabbing you ran through his mind as he let it out but so did images of Maureen choking on her own blood, of Sidney gasping for air.

His eyes burned, tears from his blood shot narrowed eyes and mucus from his nose streamed down his face as it contorted in rage. Huffing for air with each stab as it was harder to breathe. "I FUCKING HATE YOU!! I HATE YOU!! YOU NEVER CHANGE! YOU'RE ALL THE SAME! YOU ALL DON'T GIVE A FUCK!!!" He roared out till his throat was hoarse and it cracked.

The image of his Mom's dead body was what finally made him stop…The fact that image of her ran through his mind shocked him out of it momentarily. He didn't know how long he had been stabbing. Just that the pillow was in shreds, feathers everywhere and the room was a mess. Sweat, water and tears ran down his face as his body heaved in exhaustion. He sat back, letting himself slide off the bed.

He swore he saw what looked like her in the bathroom doorway. Just for a few seconds, he swore he saw her staring back at him through his blurry vision. Blood dripped from her forehead down her neck and cream white suit.