Happy Birthday, Katy!!!
“Dumb bitch,” Katy barked at the television. “Why do these slutty twits always run upstairs to get away from the stalking killer as if they will find some magical escape tunnel or the door to Narnia?”
A bowl shattered against the kitchen floor, Katy’s heart jumped in her chest. “Becky?” Katy called timidly. She paused the movie, standing slowly from the couch. “Becky? Are you okay?”
Shuffling footsteps approached from the kitchen, ice cold blood trickled through her veins, her feet were frozen with terror.
Becky appeared in the dim hallway, blood pouring down the front of her pajamas, dripping from the gash in her throat. She fell to her knees, gasping her last breath, but Katy wasn’t looking at the lifeless body on the floor. Her eyes were glued to the masked figure that was standing behind Becky. He was staring at Katy and she could almost feel him grinning behind the mask.
He cocked his head slightly, a machete glistening in his left hand.
(She’s out. Out with friends.)
He took a step toward Katy and she bolted down the hallway, running as fast as she could toward the stairs. The masked man stalked slowly after her at a stereotypical slasher killer pace. Katy’s feet hit the stairs that led to the basement.
(Dumb bitches and their stairs.)
She quieted her steps when she reached the bottom, the killer standing at the top gazing into the darkness. He flicked on the light before he began his decent and heard a door click quietly. “Hide all you want,” he mumbled. “I’ll still find you.”
Katy’s heartbeat slowed. She could hear his footsteps approaching. She held her breath and waited.
He stood outside the door, looking around the basement. There’s no way out, he thought. No doors, hatches or windows. She didn’t even put up a fight. Too easy… too easy…
He opened the door. The room was dark. He took a step forward and was suddenly whisked off his feet. He was trapped.
He could hear movement, then there was light. He saw her standing before him as he struggled to free himself from the net. She smiled.
“You picked the wrong house tonight,” she said, flicking the air from a syringe. “Definitely the wrong house.” He was unconscious within seconds of the injection.
Light. Dim light.
Metal sliding across metal.
Damp, moldy scent.
“You killed Becky,” she said. He struggled to open his eyes. “Lucky for you, I didn’t like her much.” He couldn’t move. His arms and legs were shackled to the chair, his head belted against a metal pole. “You know,” she continued, “a few years ago, before we bought this house, I saw a movie called The Poughkeepsie Tapes. Horrifying flick. I told myself, I’d never be a victim. I’d always have a plan and you fell so easily into that plan.”
She pulled on rubber gloves that matched the apron she was wearing. He tried to yell at her with words of apologies, words of any kind, but the ball gag in his mouth muffled the sound. “You did me a favor with Becky, honestly. That cunt, she… Well, that’s irrelevant now. But I have a feeling this wasn’t your first kill. And I know it wouldn’t have been your last. So, I’m going to pay that favor forward to the world by taking you out of it.” She pulled a chair in front of his and slid a tray of medical tools by her side.
“Where should we start?” Katy asked, a wide grin spreading on her face. A tear slipped from his eye. He knew this was the end, but to Katy, she’d only begun.
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- lilysofthefield said: I freaking love the twist
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