Left For Dead: A One Direction Horror

The Last Rung and the Splintered Pieces

Chapter twenty-nine: The Last Rung and the Splintered Pieces

Harry's P.O.V.

My finger wobbled, just above my head as I pointed out the body. I wish I wouldn't have, she doesn't need to see another one of her friends dead; I didn't need to see another one dead. But alas, my eyes would not close and my head would not turn away from the body.

Brooke's body.

It made my stomach churn and my legs wobble together, trying to pull me down to the wood floor. Brooke's body was hanging on the reverse side of the rafter where her feet hung in her shoes. A giant rusty bolt was shoved in the centre of her throat, keeping her body from falling from the rafter.

Trails of blood went down her neck and onto her shirt where I happened to notice another gruesome detail. There was an arm stitched into her stomach. No, not an arm, her arm. The thin twine went in and out, piercing everything it could inside Brooke. Many holes were made for the twine to hold the arm up, and each little hole oozed a bit more blood then the next. The arm was at a 60 degree angle, facing down, and the tips of her fingers went purple. This caused me to look at her shoulders.

I was expecting only one arm to be sawed savagely from her body, but from my stomach's churn, I realized both arms had been stripped from her body. The bone from her right arm was sharp like broken wood, and it came out in a stub from her shoulder which was surrounded in flesh. Her left arm had a bit more length to it, so I assumed that was the one sewed onto her body, and a little blue vein dangled from the end spurting drops of blood onto the floor.

My eyes kept telling me to look away, but again I tuned everything out and just kept looking at the mess of a human; the human mess which was my friend.

I noticed, by her eyes, there was a mass coloring of red. Blood?

Nope.

The skin by her eyes was peeled off and ripped from her body. It went all the way to the corners of her mouth and stopped, whoever did this just let it dangle there. What freaked me out the most wasn't the blood and gore, it was her facial expression. Her eyes were forever in a gaze which was so solemnly saying 'not me' big and scared. Brooke's mouth was even still open for that expression of a scream; like a scream frozen forever in time.

I was only pulled away from my gaze when Riley tugged on my hand. I turned to her and looked down at her eyes, at the brink of more tears.

"Harry, I'm sorry, I tried to stay quiet but I hear something back by the stairs." She whispered. I shot my head to the stairs and didn't see anything.

"Are you sure?" I asked, wanting just not to move, to be quiet and still for eternity. She nodded lazily so I pulled up in front of her and walked towards the stairs. I made sure not to fall in the hole, and walked slowly, not really sure if I wanted to discover what the noise was. Before we even made it to the stairs, I heard Riley's footsteps stop. I whipped around, hoping the killer wasn't here all along, when I saw her kneeling and peering into the hole.

"Harry come here."

Emma's P.O.V.

I was silent. I had to be. When I heard more footsteps entering the room, I prayed the killer wasn't coming back to finish me off. I didn't get a good look at the person, but I knew when I tried to help Brooke, I stepped back and fell into this hole. I tried to move but I couldn't. I landed on a giant, glass, chandelier. I was sprawled out and surrounded in broken glass.

I was afraid to move, not wanting the chandelier to brake from the extra weight; who knew how old this part of the house was.

Then I heard them. Harry and Riley. Should I speak? Should I try to get their attention? What if they thought I did it?