The Macabre ➸ Psycho C.R.

《3》

-Darcie-

"You're a murderer."

"No, I'm-" My eyes opened and I sat up quickly, now awake. "I am." I whispered, shaking immediately as I remembered everything that had happened when I was last conscious.

I looked around as beads of perspiration formed on my head, now aware that I wasn't at home. I didn't know where I was.

I realised that I had been laying on some sort of yoga mat in the floor, with nothing surrounding me but the concrete ground beneath me and a large, wooden shelf, containing nothing but a black leather box.

As I reached my arm to the wall next to me to push myself up I took a sharp breath as a piercing pain shot through my right shoulder. I turned to it, noticing that my jacket had been removed, and all that remained was my black tank top. A neat set of stitches closed up the stab wound given to me by the man who...I had shot.

As my eyes further adjusted to the small stream of sunlight which came through the small window near the ceiling to my left, I noticed a flight of stairs, right in front of me on the other side of the room.

I pushed myself up, feeling light headed and incredibly thirsty. My body ached, and my stomach growled for something to fill it up. Slowly, I made my way towards the steps, holding tightly onto the banister so I didn't loose my footing.

Once I got to the top of the stairs, I reached for the handle of the door in front of me and turned it, only to discover that it would turn no more than about 45°. I tried turning it the other way, but it was locked.

As I felt panic rise in my chest, I began looking around for other places to escape from. There was nothing, apart from the small window. However I knew for certain that I wasn't skinny enough to fit through the window, and would most definitely not be able to climb up there in the first place.

I heard footsteps slowly approach the door from the other side, and backed down the staircase in fear. I remember Chandler looking down at me, smirking as I lost consciousness, I thought,
but surely I wouldn't be with him. Why would he take me back to his...house?

I stood in the centre of the room, looking up at the door, as my palms became clammy.

Click

Click

Click

I heard three locks unfasten, and watched as the door handle turned, taking a gulp- an attempt at rehydrating my throat.

I stood still and stared him up and down as he walked in. As much as I didn't believe it would be him who I was with, Chandler closed the door behind him and made his way slowly down the steps, keeping a steady rhythm with his footsteps.

He got to the bottom of the staircase and folded his arms, his left forefinger tapping his right bicep as he spoke. "I didn't like those guys."

I furrowed my eyebrows with my eyes still wide open. "I didn't like them. A lot. Therefore, they deserved to die." He turned his head to the side, looking down before a smirk appeared on his face. "In all honesty, they deserved to die a much slower, way more painful death. Do you know where you should aim next time?" He said, turning his head back towards me.

"Wh...I....What?" I croaked, perplexed, my voice hoarse.

"The groin." He replied, with a smug grin on his face, as if he was proud of himself for knowing such things. "Hurts like a motherfucker, but takes a long time to kill them. Whatever gender." He walked closer towards me. As he got to just centimetres from me, he reached his hand out and grabbed a hold of my chin, pulling me forwards. He tilted my head to the side as if he was inspecting something.