red snow // Dead by Daylight

Part 10: Trapped

Meg panted, running towards the shack. It was then that she noticed the stairs leading down, emitting the screams of Dwight. She quickly ran down the stairs and was met with a grisly sight. Four meat hooks hung in the center of the basement, all covered in rust and old blood. Strange whispers surrounded her, as if ghosts were haunting this place. The stench of iron and death immediately hit her nose, and the air was thick, yet cold. A single light hung above, somehow illuminating the room well. Dwight was nowhere to be found-- at least, Meg didn't have time to look before the killer stomped over to her quickly.

He grabbed Meg by the front of her shirt, slamming her against the wall. She gasped as she dangled a good foot or so above the floor, his iron grip forcing her body flush against the cold stone bricks. Her head pounded and she felt wetness, no doubt blood, on the back of her skull. This was beginning to bring back memories of when they first met -- how he grabbed the front of her shirt and gave the same intense look she was forced to meet now. Her eyes were wide, and suddenly all of the anger disappeared from her body. Instead, it was replaced with fear, one that could be interpreted as a hesitant respect for the pure power he exerted. Meg gulped harshly, forcing her mouth shut with trembling lips. He tilted his head, the other hand twitching, as though he was trying not to thrust his blade into Meg's gut. She could just imagine the sick smile on his face beyond the mask. "Put me down," she tried to choke out. Her throats was so dry that it came out as a harsh whisper. She cringed at this. How weak could she get?

He remained unresponsive. Meg was growing frustrated. Before she could snap at the killer again, a raspy voice called out. "Please.." Meg gasped, looking behind her attacker. He too tilted his head to see behind him. Dwight! He was alive. He crawled pathetically out of the corner of the room. It appeared that Dwight had been badly affected by the bear trap, judging by a bad limp with his left leg covered in blood. The teeth of the trap had torn through his pant leg, visibly showing the deep puncture wounds that leaked bright red liquid. Dwight had multiple slices on his back and shoulder, too. He attempted to stand and his body trembled as he propped himself against the wall. All and all, Meg was surprised he was still alive. But this would not last long.

Meg was suddenly dropped, her legs crumbling beneath her as she fell on the floor. A small shriek escaped her throat as she watched the masked man begin to walk towards Dwight's shaking frame. Propping herself up using her hands, she watched with wide eyes as he hulked towards Dwight slowly, hand tightening over the bloody cleaver. Choked sobs were released from Dwight, pure fear present in his eyes. Sweat ran down his face, mixing with the blood from the wound on his forehead. "DWIGHT!" Meg screeched, terrified for him as he remained frozen in fear. He stared up, trembling, as the brute of a man stopped in front of him. He was suddenly kicked to the ground, a large boot being thrust onto his sternum. Dwight yelped out, his voice cut short as his body roughly hit the floor. A pained gasp left his throat as he attempted to crawl away, but he was stopped as he was stepped on his lower back. He screamed out as his back was crushed, his arms sprawled helplessly. "Please.. I'm begging you.." Dwight cried, desperate to survive a bit longer. Meg shook her head. "Dwight!" She called out, tears beginning to form in her eyes. It seemed to happen in slow motion. Meg's eyes followed the cleaver as it was swung down into Dwight's back, slicing into flesh and grinding against vertebrae. Dwight let out a long, pained scream that made Meg shiver. His gasps and pleas were beginning to quiet as multiple strikes landed on him. Torn shreds of flesh and fabric from his shirt were flicked lazily off of the body and onto the bloodied stone floor. The killer did not stop until it appeared as though Dwight's body was butchered. His shoulders were now separated and his spine was exposed nearly all the way. Bits of meat remained between each vertebrae, and the scene made Meg go silent. He was no longer bleeding. It reminded her of a slaughtered animal. Meg felt sick. Shock was plastered on her face. She could no longer cry, and she was frozen. It was pointless trying to run anymore. He slowly raised his head, chest heaving in agitation from the kill. His head slowly turned towards Meg. His head tilted, observing her.

She was now at the mercy of a murderer.