Chapter 31 - The Best Little Slaughterhouse in Texas

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Despite the girl at the desk warning you of the dangers of that house, you went anyway. Perhaps, admittedly, it was stupid. But some sort of justice seeking piece of you had already vowed you would rid this poor Texas town of its mysterious issue.

As you drove down the bumpy gravel road, car shaking about as your tires crunched over the rocks, you were scolding yourself for the stupid idea. You could have just left town. Gone to see your grandparents and been no worse for wear. But no. You just had to go sticking your nose in other people's problems with no regard for your own safety.

Bill and Stu were excited for the new adventure. They were whispering to one another about how they guessed the cannibals were deformed mutants, crawling around on all fours and speaking in incoherent whispers. The image in your mind, however, was different. It was just some old man with an evil grin on his face slicing into someone.

After all, that was your area of expertise. The main villain in your books was that same way, though he didn't tend to eat his victims. He was much more of an artist than that.

You pulled over outside the abandoned building and got out of the car. The house before you was a sight to behold.

It was a large house, painted a simple white on the outside. The roofing was a sage green color, and muted the sun out wonderfully. The covered porch was surrounded by a wooden fence, painted white to match the rest of the house. You were sure that if it was in proper repair, it would've been lovely.

But it wasn't. The white paint covering the house was peeled back, revealing the color of the bricks beneath. Vines grew up the side of the house, using it as a makeshift trellis. Wasps had made their nests in the cracks in the bricks and along the overhang above the porch. The plain white door hung slightly ajar, beckoning you to come inside.

You never would've gotten out of the car that day if you had known the sort of torture you were about to endure. Never. But you didn't know. So you walked up to the house, then scanned around to see if the slaughterhouse was within visible distance.

It wasn't.

You got back in the car and looked at the map to see which direction you should go to get to the slaughterhouse. Once you confirmed where you were going, you took off, driving until you got to the [deity]forsaken slaughterhouse.

***

Every step you took felt unnatural. Unwanted. Wrong. It felt like the ground was going to split open. Like some giant maw would tear from the floorboards, teeth gnashing wildly, and pull you down into its gullet. But it didn't. Still, this felt so immensely wrong.

You heard footsteps. Some coming your way. You dove under a desk, quietly as you could, and held your breath. A rather tubby man in a suit and an odd mask passed by you, mumbling to himself unintelligible sounds. He paused for a moment, fixing his hair in a mirror sitting on the desk you'd hidden under, then walked away.

You waited a few long moments, still holding your breath, and close to passing out, for him to leave. Once you were sure he was gone, you took in a deep breath and continued on stalking about. Bill and Stu were also in the house, but were upstairs. They were far more silent than you could ever be.

Chucky was laying on the floor in the middle of another room, acting as bait. A distraction that could attack? Hell yeah. Damn that was convenient.

Diamond was in the car, waiting. He had parked around the side of the building, where he'd be hidden properly. Freddy stood near the entrance to give the signal if you and the others left the building, which meant it was time to go.

Norman was following close behind Bill and Stu with a camera in hand. His job in all of this was to collect evidence that could be used later on if it was needed.

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