Welcome to the Warehouse

Chapter 5: 1967

(Gore and disgusting shit warning).

The girl sat in a tree, watching the party of six teens laugh their way through the trees.

"Alright, alright, so, do you all want to hear a ghost story that I got from my cousin's, friend's sister," a blond male laughed, grabbing one of the girls's shoulders, causing her to jump and screech, the rest of the group laughing at the two.

"Sure, sure, why not. Tell us this story, Peter," another boy laughed, tossing sticks into the trees. Peter smiled and stopped walking, motioning for the others to sit, which they did.

"Alright, so you all know how my cousin is, like, ten years older than me? Well, when she was our age, she had this friend whose sister apparently got attacked by that girl who got killed for eating her family not long after the girl got killed. She's alright now since it's been, like, ten years, but every so often she has these flashbacks and freaks out. Scary shit to watch," Peter rubbed the back of his neck, quiet.

"Aw, that's not a ghost story," a third boy interrupted, but shut up when Peter raised his hand to silence the muttering.

"I wasn't done. The story isn't about the friend. It's about the dead girl. Well, apparently, she was being hunted down because she murdered her parents or something and she was chased into these very woods."

The girl in the trees yawned and rolled her eyes-leave it to a group of stupid teens to get the story wrong.

"-and as she was about to make her escape, her own best friend shot her in the head! BAM," the group jumped at the sudden noise. "And to this day, she haunts these woods, preying on innocents that happen to wander in," Peter finished, a wicked grin on his face.

"That's so... not scary," one of the girls said finally, causing the grin on Peter's face to drop.

"Excuse me? Not scary? Like you could do better," Peter scoffed, crossing his arms defensively.

"I probably could," the girl said. "You suck at story telling. I could probably retell this story better than you and YOU would be pissing yourself."

"Bull-shit," Peter hissed. "I don't suck at story telling."

"You're right. I was near pissing my pants," the girl in the tree laughed, earning some shrieks and swears from the group. "You just suck at getting the details right."

"W-What? You think you know the story better, because I highly doubt you have a personal connection to any of the characters," Peter squawked defiantly.

The girl threw back her head and cackled insanely, causing the group to back up. She calmed down and jumped down from the tree.

"I have a very personal connection with several of the characters. For starters," she grinned, baring her teeth, "I was the one who got shot in the head."

She pulled back her stringy hair to reveal a gaping bullet wound in her forehead, dried blood caking the edges. The group gasped and screamed, the girls breaking into a run. The dead girl snarled and started after them. "No way. No fucking way am I letting anymore people survive."

The boys stepped in front of her as she took a step forward. While she may have been the girl who died and could easily take down a grown man for dinner, there were three of them and one of her. They could subdue her to let Lisa, Wendy, and Valerie escape.

"Get out of my way," the girl snarled, launching herself at Terry. "I'm hungry and I don't give a shit if your body decays as I consume your friends."

Terry screamed as she tore out patches of his hair, her nails raking across his face, leaving deep cuts. Peter and Shawn grabbed her arms and pulled her off their friend, but it was a useless effort. She only twisted out of their grasp and kicked Shawn in the chest. He stumbled back and the girl grabbed his head, twisting it sharply to the side. Peter retched as he heard the sickening crack; Terry was still screaming in the back ground.

"Oh for the love of Christ, shut up," the girl screamed, stomping over to Terry. Peter watched, paralyzed, as she began to stomp her foot into his neck, head, and chest. "Jesus-," STOMP, "Christ-," STOMP, "shut-," STOMP, STOMP, "UP! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!"

After a few more stomps, Terry had stopped breathing. The girl turned to the frozen Peter. "For your terrible story-telling abilities, I'm saving you for last," she slowly made her way towards him. Peter didn't move. The warnings he had been given as a child had done jack shit to help him now, but of course, the warnings had been stories, and nothing but that. But he had been proven wrong. Before Peter could focus on anything else, the girl kicked him in the knee cap. Pain exploded in his leg, and Peter screamed, falling to the forest floor, clutching his knee in agony.

"WHAT THE FUCK," he screamed.

The girl leaned down and poked his knee. Tears welled up in Peter's eyes as the white-hot pain became the only thing he felt.

"Well," the girl said, standing up. "I don't think you'll be going anywhere. So stay put. I'm going to go find your friends."

A cruel laugh filled Peter's ears as he blacked out.

Peter awoke to see Shawn and Terry's bodies staring back at him. He scrambled backwards until he hit a wall.

"I told you I was saving you," a hollow voice made him look in the other corner.

The girl sat there, sharpening a knife. Strewn around her were the girls' bodies, ragged bites taken out of their arms and legs. Peter retched, chunks of his last meal flying towards his friends' bodies.

The girl sneered. "Disgusting. Clean it up."

Peter didn't move. The girl got to her feet and stormed over to him.

"I SAID CLEAN IT," she screamed, grabbing Peter by his hair and dragging him to the puddle of vomit. "CLEAN IT WITH YOUR LYING TONGUE!"

The thought alone made Peter want to puke more, but before he could protest, the girl shoved his face into the vomit.

"CLEAN IT," she shrieked. "CLEAN IT, CLEAN IT, CLEAN IT!"

Peter was crying-the girl had slammed his head into the puddle so hard, he was sure his nose had broken. As he gasped for air, the girl ripped his head upwards, tearing out hair in the process.

"Why don't you get the story right next time, hm," she growled in his ear. "Say you will, and I'll let you live."

"I-I'll get it r-right, I promise," Peter shouted.

The girl grinned and, before Peter knew what was happening, she yanked back on his hair, tearing away one long, bloody strip of flesh from his scalp. Peter screamed in pain and horror as he watched his scalp fall to the floor.

"Do you think I'd really let you live after I let that girl escape 11 years ago? I don't think so," the girl laughed.

Peter stated at the floor, numb and broken. He felt the girl grab his hair one last time before everything went black.

The girl watched Peter's blood spray the wall, tossing his body to the floor.

"That's what happens to liars, Peter," she snarled, kicking his body before walking away to prepare the rest of her kill.