His Heart Is Mine

Chapter 8

After being dragged inside, the man that had originally claimed to be a fellow serial killer pushed me down a set of stairs and shut the door behind me, leaving me in darkness. At the time, I wasn't scared of the dark; I was scared of what was in it.

I stood, carefully feeling my way around the room. There was a single chair bang splat in the centre, and a shelf that seemed to be full of old books with a few items of musty clothing folded on top. I cautiously shook them out, squinting through the inky blackness at the fabric, which had something seemingly crusted over the collar and front of the shirt. Lifting it to my face, I sniffed, before recoiling and tossing both clothing items away from me with a hiss.

Of course the only clothes in this damn place would have had blood on them. 

A further physical examination of the shelf made me realise that there was also a folded piece of paper sitting on the top of it. I snatched it up, moving over to the door and lying on my stomach near the bottom, pressing the note flat against the floor to see if there was anything written on it. There was; two paragraphs of jagged, uneven handwriting that were compiled of sprawling letters that were hardly readable. 

October 31st

They still won't let me out of here. I can barely see anymore, and the darkness is playing with my head. The nightmares have returned, and I wake up screaming every night...Or day. I cannot tell the difference. I have no more space to mark the hours that they come to check on me. The walls are all covered, and the floor is too hard to scratch on. The fact that they gave me a knife when I came here is a sign that they don't expect me to hurt them, or they know I can't. The weekly gifts are gone now; they won't grant me the items that I ask for any more. They are making a game out of feeding me; they throw in food to see if I'm desperate enough to eat it. I always am.

I am writing this because it will be the last thing that I will write. I am going to die here. It has been too long to think otherwise. I am sorry for the person who is reading this, if someone ever will be. You're not getting out of here either. I am going to try and remember now. My name is Jennifer Larrinson. I am twenty two. No. Twenty three. I was studying at Trinity College, as a med student. It was a week before the graduation that I was taken. They took me and the other boy student when we were studying outside. They took him first, because he was in the truck before I was put in there. I didn't know his name, but I miss him. He was killed when we got to the house because he was noisy. I am still where they left me. The next person that they put in here with me was called Timothy. I cannot remember his last name, but he was lovely. They killed him on the chair. I miss him. I know that it is October 31st because the children are coming to look at me. At what I've become. And that only happens on Halloween. 

They laugh. 

"Poor lass," I muttered, standing slowly and turning to walk back towards the shelf. But the door flew open behind me, throwing me to the floor. "You son of a bitch-" The one who had not been in my bathroom kicked me, and I made that sound again. It sounds more like a dying snake than a balloon letting out air, I determined as I lay curled up on the floor, clutching my new possession. 

"Get up."

"If you wanted me to get up, why the hell did you kick me, you ass?" 

"Get. Up. Now."

I obliged, more for the dignity of being standing than because I was inclined to listen. He attempted to push me again, towards the center of the room, but I stood fast, unashamed of my nudity. 

"Ask nicely if you want me to walk." 

I could practically hear him grinding his teeth, and I smiled.

"If you want to remain able to walk, you will listen."

"If you want to remain able to hear my replies, I would recommend not trying to order me around- or, for that matter, touch me."

He swore loudly and moved to hit me, but I dropped to the ground, rolled, and came up behind him. Grabbing his ear, I tore it off his head with a neat ripping sound.

He screamed, and I kicked him over, drawing the knife from his belt and driving it through the newly displayed orifice with swift carelessness. He spasmed before lying still, and I whirled, storming out of the dark cellar with an angry huff.

Looks like you were wrong, Jennifer. 

I snickered to myself before the man who had had the gun appeared at the top of the stairs. He drew his favourite weapon with a practiced flourish, but I simply stood still as he fired. The bullet hit my other shoulder, parallel to the first bullet wound, and I rocked back momentarily before smiling at him. "Ouch."

He didn't fire again, staring at me in a surprised stupor for a second before I gave a short, random shriek. He jumped, dropping the gun, which I leapt to snatch up before he could recover. He moved to intercept me instead of picking up the weapon like he should have, but I simply collapsed onto the ground, making him lurch forward, as all his momentum had gone into trying to block me or push me back. I slithered over the steps towards the gun and grabbed it, pointing it at him.

"P-a-t-h-e-t-i-c spells pathetic. Should we hear that used in a sentence? Alright then. Out of all the cannibalistic serial killers in the world, Mister- what's your name?"

"A-Albert," he stuttered, his eyes as wild as those of a cornered animal. 

"There we go. Out of all the cannibalistic serial killers in the world, Mister A-Albert is the most pathetic excuse for one such persona that I have ever seen." I smiled sweetly, and proceeded to shoot Mister A-Albert in the head, a second after which he promptly pissed himself whilst falling backwards. I wrinkled my nose, before moving to collect the other man's clothing; suits I could handle. Urine-soaked suits? Not so much.

~~~~~~ Another P.O.V ~~~~~

I watched her shoot the man from the window. She looked so elegant, even if she was naked. Maybe more so that way. Smirking, I crawled out of view before standing and striding soundlessly off. I'm so glad that the idiot man tricked her. Even if he failed to keep her in that cellar like the last girl, I sure am delighted to know exactly where she is. And the best part is that she thinks that her worries are over.

Soon, my dear. Soon it will all be over.