Slaughter House

Chapter 4

Large, rusted meat hooks tore through the tender spot of someone's ankle. 

A harsh spotlight was cast above, over-exposing the body in front of me. It created a hard, black shadow on everything else. The scream, as androgynous as it was, sounded like my ne'er-do-well childhood friend. Blood raced down his bare legs as his body was violently hoisted upwards by the hooks. He reached out fitfully and grabbed at the concrete floor below him as he struggled to gain his senses. Air could barely escape my mouth as I flung myself backwards and onto the wall behind me. Sliding down, my feet kept pressing in front of me trying to escape the sight, but I couldn't look away. My eyes were burning into his agonized, grossly contorted face. Cricket screeched and flung around which only made the hooks stretch and rip harder into his flesh. My mind begged him to stop, but I couldn't breathe, let alone speak.  His flailing stopped with a fierce jerk as a tall figure stepped into the very edge of my sight, where the light and shadow met.

Nearly choking and hyperventilating at the same time, I wasn't able to move my eyes from my friend who was still naked and swinging by his ankles. Below him, the blood droplets began to pool as their path almost made it to my feet. 

"This little piggy went to the market..." The shadow sang in a voice that was inhuman both in sound and texture.

My hand snapped to my chest trying to calm my ferocious heartbeat. I don't know how much more my ribs can take of this pounding. Finally, my eyes freed themselves of my friend and I anxiously looked over to the figure. Though the figure was unmoving, the spark of a blade emerged through the darkness as well as the hand holding it. The knife seemed to dwarf the welder as it continued into the light. A tiny, pale, crimson covered hand entered. My vision followed the arm up to a grinning little girl clad in a blue dress.

Ebony curls, gapped teeth, and black eyes with a azure ring around the pupil.

"O-opal?" I gasped at the shock. It couldn't be, this isn't real.

"And this little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home." She smiled harder as her full cheeks began to wrinkle under the strain.

Screaming, my body failed me as I began to faint.

-

The tick of a grandfather clock matched my heart beat. 

My eyes blinked rapidly but my vision was too blurry to make out anything. Did I even want to see? A cooling sensation, like a  wet cloth being dabbed across my aching head caused me to gasp. My heartbeat had calmed down, but spiked at every new sensation. Each press of the rag left my skin stinging. My hands rubbed along what I was laying on. It felt like worn cotton sheets, the kind you'd find in hospital beds.

"Joel? Baby are you awake?" My mother's voice asked as her warm hands cupped my face. "Thank the lord, my sweet boy is coming to." 

After straining my eyes, I was finally able to see the person beside me.  The bright white light from the windows made my mother's dark brown skin shimmer like gold. 

"What happened? Where's the girls? Where is -" I stopped myself unable to speak of Cricket. I swallowed trying to ease my dried throat.

"The girls? You should be more worried about yourself, boy." She spoke sternly while slapping the rag down into a bucket of water. Pursing her lips, she gave me a hard glare.

I struggled but successfully pulled myself into an upright position on the cot. The poor thing shook for a moment under my weight. Looking around, I recognized the room we where in. A large room with dark wood going from wall to wall. Old, yet regal with the ugliest yellow wallpaper imaginable.