HORROR DIARY: CreepyPasta

CreepyPasta #5: HOUSE CALL (Part 3)

Mrs. Wilshire pointed toward a dark corner with the scalpel in hand. Sandy's eyes roved in that direction and noticed the figure sitting on what appeared to be a stool. The man was covered in shadows and was shaking back and forth on the stool like an impatient child waiting for his turn to do something mischievous. It was the man from the living room. The one she had seen before passing out. The man that had looked deformed.

Mrs. Wilshire smiled at the dark figure swaying in the dark. "You think she's pretty, don't you, darling?" She sounded like she was talking to a child.

But the man that stood up from his seat and walked aggressively over to stroke Sandy's hair was no child. He stood at about six feet tall and had the most repulsive facial features she had ever seen. Sandy recoiled as far as her head would allow which wasn't more than mere centimeters. She was helpless to stop him from stroking her hair with his hand which she could have sworn had six fingers on it right before he had touched her. He wore dirty overalls but no shirt underneath and she could notice the welts or large boils that covered his sweaty chest, neck, and arms. The eyes were out of place, the teeth were jagged and looked broken. His breath was atrocious. His touch was rough as he ran his fingers through her hair, pulling some strands out as he looked over her and seemed to squeal with delight as she lay helpless.

Sandy had never been as frightened as she was at that very moment. She looked away from him, not wanting to keep eye contact, which only made him lean in closer to inspect her face. His three nostrils blew hot wind on her face, and as this happened she looked desperately at Mrs. Wilshire.
"Please, please don't hurt me. Let me go, please, please, let me go," Sandy said, her words muffled but understood. The tears began to stream down her cheek, wetting the gag that remained tightly in place.

"Oh, but my dear," Mrs. Wilshire said, getting closer to Sandy herself. "Do you think you're not good enough for my boy?"

Sandy kept begging to be set free as Mrs. Wilshire looked at her with contempt. "You think just because you were born with good looks and a tempestuous body that you have the right to pass judgement?"

Mrs. Wilshire grabbed Sandy by the chin and turned her head, forcing her to look at Herman as he began to inspect her body. He poked at her arms, belly, and legs, walking slowly toward the foot of the table.

"Look at him," Mrs. Wilshire snapped. "Herman, my sweet sweet boy. He's as much God's creation as you, you ungrateful bitch." Mrs. Wilshire let Sandy go. She took two steps back and looked like she was trying to choke back tears. All this while Herman started to poke at Sandy's right foot.

"Is it his fault that he was born the way he was?" Mrs. Wilshire was tearing up at this point, swinging the scalpel in the air as she made her declarations. "He's a good boy. He just came out wrong, is all. He was forced to hide from everybody. Forced to endure all their taunts and cruelty."

Mrs. Wilshire cupped her mouth with her hand to gain composure as Herman started to sniff Sandy's right foot. Sandy didn't know what to keep her eyes on, the obviously psychotic woman brandishing a sharp object or the monstrous man that was disturbingly caressing her foot.

Mrs. Wilshire smiled through the tears. "But now you're here. I'll make it so that you change your mind about my Herman."

Mrs. Wishire placed the scalpel at Sandy's face. Sandy could feel the steel blade press lightly against her cheek and she dared not move an inch. Suddenly the fact that Herman was trying to take off Sandy's sandal didn't even concern her as much as the sharp object that was so close to her eye. She saw the cats from upstairs in her mind.

"I'm gonna fix it so that you'll be with my Herman always," Mrs. Wilshire said, sounding maniacal. "I'll work on you down here, make all the right cuts and rearrange a few things. Then you'll see what beauty is. Then you'll be just like him. You won't have any other choice but to live with him. In the shadows. Away from the bullies and meanies that like to say hurtful things."