The Halloween Massacre

Chapter 9 ~ Warren

I've never heard a scream like that before. Of pure pain and agony. I've heard many like it, but never so raw. 

Whatever's going on up there is not pretty, I'll tell you that much. 

Swallowing my sudden fear, I force myself to continue up the stairs. 

Until I reach that corner. 

I stop, feet refusing to take me where I need to go. I can't rely on them anymore to lead me through. 

I've never felt anything like this before, this terror. 

Something deep in me knows that whatever's going on up there is not something I'll recover from so quickly. What I may be about to see, could scar for life. I know this because all the others who have walked in on Alex and survived have said so. 

They all ended up in insane asylums, and it's safe to say that none of them have been released. Maybe they never will. 

I'm not like them though. I'm much more dangerous. More lethal. Stronger minded. Alex should be the one scared shitless of what is soon to come. Not the other way around. 

But it can't be as bad for me as what's happening to Alex's victim, and I know at this point I can do nothing else than to feel sorry for that person. It'll be too late to take them to the hospital, that's for certain.

Pushing past the thoughts, I take a deep breath and plunge into the pit of darkness before me. It's just as pitch black as I assumed it would be.

Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I venture up the stairs, ungracefully, without any source of light to lead my way. I'm not risking drawing attention to myself. 

I still clutch my knife, even tighter now, before walking face first into a wall. Or rather, a door.

I feel around for the handle. My hand finds it swiftly and the door opens with a soft click. 

I'm nervous to open it any further. What I'm about to see I know will be horrifying. I just have a feeling. My fingers lock up, further convincing me to turn back. 

I can't drop out like this. 

Going through with my task means one less psycho plaguing this world.

Going through with my task means one less rapist plaguing this world.

Going through with my task means one less horrible person in this world.

One less murderer.

One less villain. 

Here goes nothing.

The door swings open with a loud creak, opening all the way, allowing me to see the whole of the room I stand before. 

And I gasp. 

What in the world...

There's a large rectangular steel table in the middle of the room, and medical tools all around. Some more than less medical grade objects, such as a sledge hammer, a regular hammer, a saw and axe, a tool kit laid open and completed with screw drivers, nails and all the other things you can think of litter the cabinet space near the back of the room. Every thing is rusted and stained, probably with blood. The room has no windows and it smells of death and despair. Laid on the table is a pool of fresh blood, its scent giving a slight sharpness into the air, and a girl. 

She's no older than eleven, blonde hair matted back with her own crimson blood. She's breathing raggedly, if you can even call it ragged. To be honest it looks like she's not breathing at all. 

And I don't blame her, because standing in front of this girl with his back to me is none other than Alex Rigglio. He looks like the crazed lunatic I always took him for. 

The girl has given up on screaming, probably because her organs are spilling onto the floor, along with many other body parts. 

I can feel the bile crawling up my throat. Disgusting.

Boy, will I ever enjoy playing with him. 

Gathering up the courage to sneak up behind him, I raise my knife, ready to strike. 

I usually like to aim for the neck for a quick kill, but I want this to be the most slow and painful death he could ever imagine experiencing. Which is exactly why when I round up behind him, knife glinting in the light, I stab him straight in the spine. 

Alex yelps in the sudden, unexpected pain and drops the scalpel he was holding. 

"What the fuck!" he howls. Alex spun to face me and confusion flickers across his face, "Who in the shit are you?" he says, accusingly. 

I flash him a devilish smile, and the confusion once plastered on his features turns into dismay as he realizes; He's going to die today. 

"no, no, no, no please, I have so much to live for," he pleads. I enjoy the sound of it. "If you let me go, I'll-" he grunts mid sentence, followed by a quick inhale of breath, taken aback by the pain flourishing through his body, "I'll.." he tries again, rather unsuccessfully. 

"Shhh, talking only makes it hurt worse, Alex," I say it smoothly, almost sympathetically, effectively cutting him off, like I've done this hundreds of times before. The number isn't that high yet, but the idea is sure as hell there. 

He backs up into the metal table, the wheels I didn't even know were on there allowing it to roll away from him. Alex stumbles, face contorting in more agony. 

I let out a low chuckle, "This is going to be fun," 

A scream was the first thing I heard going up those stairs, and a scream is the last thing Alex hears in his life. And even better... 

It's his own.