Unmasked | Art

~3~

My thighs and calves were still burning slightly from squatting over that dirty toilet as I made my way upstairs. As I was about to turn a corner, my ears perked up upon hearing a strange noise.

Was there somebody else in the building?

I turned my head toward the direction it was coming from, yet I couldn't make it out. My heart started racing a bit faster as I stepped closer to the large wooden door. Holding in my breath I heard a faint cry of a baby. Or maybe a person whimpering in pain? Curiosity was driving me over the edge. My hands itched to pull on the door handle and peek inside. But then I remembered Sandra was waiting for me in the car and turned away with a sigh, leaving the mysterious sound behind.

My head was overflowing with thoughts as I made my way back. Was there someone behind that door or was it just my delusions? What even was this place? Deep in my thoughts, I finally reached the exit. But the sight in front of me made me stop dead in my tracks and my blood ran cold. My eyes widened at the familiar figure. It was so close I could see everything in detail. From the black and white overall, white face, that little hat, to the tiny black dot on the tip of his nose.

I stood face to face with Art the Clown.

The sight of dark red stains covering his face, hands and costume and the fresh metallic smell of blood made me sick to my stomach. He stood tall and unmoving in front of the exit, his hands raised in the air. My gaze landed on the bloodied scalpel in his right hand that god knows what he did with. In the corner of my eye, I could see how he was glaring at me with a wide, creepy grin on his face.

When my eyes finally met his I felt my knees give in. My mind went blank for a moment and I could not think straight. My heart was hammering in my chest, and my breath grew more and more rapid until suddenly, the clown jumped at me, snapping me out of the shock state. I could barely see my surroundings and it was as if an invisible force pulled me down into the dark basement.

Frantically running along the corridors I reached some sort of garage. It was loaded with broken-down cars, which I used as cover. My heart was beating crazy as I kneeled on the cold concrete floor. Holding one hand over my hand and nose I tried to contain my rapid breath, trying my hardest not to give out the hiding spot.

I could hear his footsteps descending slowly down the stairs. He was taking his time as if this all was some sort of game to him. As his boots hit the last step, I froze, holding my breath. The clown began making his way through the garage, scanning the area for any signs of his prey. His footsteps were so cautious and barely audible. Pressing my palms against the floor I leaned down to peak through the bottom of the car. My eyes landed on his wide-front boots that were moving along the wall only a few meters away from me.

My mind snapped back to Sandra once again. What was she thinking of me taking so long? Suddenly, a thought crossed my mind, and I felt tears sting the back of my throat. What if the clown had hurt her? What if the blood on his clothes were hers? Images of her dead body with her neck sliced and blood trickling down her pale skin began flooding my mind. I had to quickly compose myself before a cry escaped my throat.

Oh, Sandra...

No. It couldn't be her. She was fine. At least I tried to convince myself that she was. Soon I realized the clown was gone out of my sight. I had lost him. I slowly straightened up to my knees, taking in a shaky breath. I couldn't bring myself to believe he was a murderer. At the cafe, he just looked like a creepy guy wearing his Halloween costume and acting weird. Oh my fucking God, what have I gotten myself into?

I couldn't stay here any longer. Not with Art roaming the halls freely. I carefully stood up and peeked through the top of the vehicle just to make sure he wasn't in the area. Then I took a few steps forward until my whole torso was exposed. Nothing. Not a single sign of him. I tip-toed across the garage, trying to make as little noise as possible. As I was approaching another room I kneeled behind some wood piles, carefully peeking at the doorway. The only sound I could hear was my heartbeat echoing in my ears. When I was sure he had left me behind, I tried standing up, but out of nowhere, a sharp pain shot through my left leg, sending me back to the ground.

"Ahh!" I yelled out in pain, my scream resonating in the garage. I turned my head, only to see the clown kneeling right behind me, his hand clutched tightly around the handle of the knife that was stuck in my flesh. He pulled the blade out and stabbed my calf again. "No!" I cried out, grabbing his bony wrist in an attempt to push him away. But the pain was too strong, making me fall on my back.

Like the clown he was, he put that creepy smile on his face, revealing his rotten and deformed teeth that were covered in blood as well, and started continuously stabbing my leg. "STOP!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, feeling the blade pierce my flesh every single time. Warm and sticky blood started gushing down my leg, staining my stocking and the floor below.

My vision began getting blurry. I could not pass out. I had to get the hell out of here. My frail attempt at pulling away ended up with him grabbing my leg even harder. Gathering all the remaining strength in my uninjured leg I kicked him in the guts, sending him to the ground momentarily. But he was quick to get back on his feet and pin me to the ground once again. I started kicking my legs frantically and throwing fists, catching him by surprise. When he finally got sick of me fighting back, he aimed straight for my neck. I felt his cold and slender fingers claw around my throat as if it were death itself strangling me. It didn't take too long for the veins to start pulsing in my head, threatening to pop. My vision darkened, and little dots began appearing. I tried to grab onto his arms, but strength was slowly leaving my body.

As consciousness began abandoning me I noticed something shiny in the corner of my eye. Not being able to turn my head I reached my hand out, fumbling around until I got a grip on the same knife he had stabbed me with. At that point, my vision went completely dark. With the remaining drop of strength, I raised my hand and flung the blade in his direction, getting him in the shoulder.

I desperately gasped as oxygen filled my lungs once again, my vision returning to normal. I quickly stumbled backwards as Art fell to the ground, grabbing onto the bleeding shoulder and mimicking his pain. Not a single sound escaped past his lips though, making me question if he was really in agony or just mocking it.

Coughing and gasping for air I got on my feet, balancing most of my weight on my uninjured leg. I knew Art was going to catch up to me soon if I didn't run now. Clenching my jaw, I aimed for the exit upstairs. A sharp pain shot through my leg with every step I took. It was making it hard to focus, but the desperate need to escape fueled me to go further. I limped upstairs to the exit, nearly feeling the fresh air of the night on my skin before I stopped dead in my tracks once again, every last bit of hope drained. The door was locked with multiple chains and padlocks. Now I knew that the clown did not want me to leave at all. I was doomed. The exit was locked and I was bleeding out.

Suddenly images of my dead and mutilated body flashed in my mind: the news showing the crime scene and explaining the details, my mother crying hysterically upon the news, my father rushing to the morgue to recognize my body. Panic overtook my body as reached for the padlock and pulled on it in frustration. My limbs went numb and a hysterical cry threatened to escape my throat. I looked around desperately, trying to find another way to escape, but my attention was brought back to the frame of the clown who had been hunting me the whole night. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at me with a mad expression.

That suppressed cry finally bursted out and I ran down the hall where my eyes saw. God knows, maybe there was a dead end lurking around the corner, waiting to make me face my fate.

I came across a stairwell. Not having much choice, I ran up the stairs to the second floor. It was much cleaner up here.

I stopped for a moment to catch my breath. The injured leg was killing me. I couldn't run anymore. I limped away from the staircase.

I could swear I heard something in the hallway.

"Help!" I screamed, hoping somebody would hear me. I turned a corner and saw the same guy from earlier.

"HELP-" A hand from behind covered my mouth, the other swung around my waist, and the clown pulled me behind the wall.

He held me tightly, I couldn't fight back. My heart was beating crazy. The clown was so close I could feel his breath on my skin.

He lowered his hand and, out of nowhere, pulled a syringe filled with some liquid. My heart dropped, as a wide smile crept on his face.

The closer the needle got to my neck, the faster my heart beat. I shook my head and pleaded him not to. My eyes filled with tears. The clown's expression unexpectedly turned into a "sorry" one.

Suddenly I felt a sharp sting, and everything went black.