Chapter One
Scream
It all began the night of Halloween.
What a cliché - but then again, they were all about clichés. They thrived on it. It made them what they were. It made them angels.
Angels of death.
It started on Halloween night: I was dressed as a baby doll. This would become an idea of irony and humor later on, seeing as where I am now. But back then, it had seemed to be the only think that combined sexy, creepy, and innocent in a way I could agree with. My hair had been messily put up into two pigtails tied with ribbons that made little bows. Lipstick gave my lips a small, delicate heart shape, along with rosy blushed cheeks and long, thick fake eyelashes. I had bought circle lenses specifically for tonight, which made my eyes wide and big and innocent. I wore a pretty, overly frilly pink dress and a white apron that only covered below the waist, white tights, matching frilly socks, and low pumps that were black and shiny with a bow.
Overall, I looked like a Lolita dream. The only think that offset the illusion were the delicately painted cracks in my "China glass" face and the blood splattered all over my apron. Not to mention the teddy I carried around with the handle of a large kitchen knife sticking out of its head.
I guess my attire was too alluring for some of the guys at the frat party I had so dutifully attended that night. It was utter hell. I lost count of the number of hands I had to smack away from my skirt, or how many perverted comments I had to ignore. I made a game of it, really. It was called What Would It Take For My Boyfriend - the only reason I was there - To Punch A Guy Over Me. It was sick and I loved to play it; it was the only thing that made it all bearable.
And why wasn't my knight in shining armor protecting me from all the monsters? It was because he was more of my knight in freshly pressed polo shirt and khakis, complete with loafers. He was the king of frat parties, and was too piss baby drunk to notice his distressed girlfriend of three years.
That's right. I've been dating this clown since high school.
Anyways, I was sitting on this dingy couch in the middle of the living room, completely sober. I wasn't dumb enough to drink at this party, or even have anything other than a tightly capped water bottle in my hand. I had already had one terrible experience with disabling drugs, and I did not wish for another one. On my left was this brute-looking fella - all muscle, no brain. He was first string on the football team. On my left, a know-it-all asshole that tried to whoo me with a million useless facts about insects. I pretended to be mildly interested for a good while, but then I allowed myself to be distracted by The Brute's self-centered list of achievements ("Of course, my team was there to help, but even they know they wouldn't be anywhere without me," followed by a flex of biceps.). Soon I was bored out of my wits by both of them, so I took The Brute's fondling hand off my knee and The Brain's arm from around my shoulder and I told them squarely, "Look, idiots. I know it seems like he likes to share, but Ashton King - you know, the guy who's throwing the party?- is my boyfriend. And sharing is the last thing he likes to do. So kindly piss off."
I was then smugly informed of my boyfriend's transgression.
I didn't fume. I didn't scream. I didn't march up the stairs and into the bedroom and screech until my lungs exploded. I didn't even cry. I just calmly walked upstairs and knocked on the door lightly. I opened it without waiting for a "come in" and watched the sheets stop tumbling at the sound of a newcomer. Ash looked at me with a drooped smile while Moira Teagarden, someone I thought myself to be fairly close to, looked at me with a shame unmatched by any human being alive.
"Hi, honey," Ash greeted me lazily. His eyes were hazed and glazed over to such an extreme I had a fleeting moment of fear for his health. Fleeting would be the key word.
"Hey, babe," I replied with sarcasm and wryness. I shot Moira a grin, and she shrunk down lower than I thought possible. I could be quite terrifying at times.
Ash pushed his dusty blonde hair from his sweaty face and smiled wider. Under different circumstances, I would've found it attractive - charming, even. But all I could see was his body over Moira's petite frame. The looks on their faces. An image of me stabbing them both briefly flashed through my mind.
"Do you care to join us?" he asked suavely. I raised an eyebrow at him. His mellow smile slowly melted into confusion, then a bit of panic. "C'mon, baby. Don't be mad. She's not nearly as good a' lay as you!" Moira turned red, probably with embarrassment more than anger, but I knew her shy personality wouldn't let her lash out or even defend her honor. It was something I always thought of as worthy of my protection, but now I could only see it as weakness.
"I'm honestly just tired, Ash. It's always the same thing with you. You get drunk, you get high, you sleep with a girl then sleep it off and suddenly you're crawling back to me for forgiveness. How long are we going to keep doing this?" I asked him tiredly. My up-do was starting to hurt, so I reached up to start taking it down.
"Forever, if that's what it takes to fix us! I love you baby!" I understood that that's what he said but his words slurred together too much for anyone who wasn't an expert at this to hear. What once used to give me butterflies and hope now made me sick with disgust, and tired. So tired.
"Apparently not enough. I mean it, this time. We're done, Ashton." I would've left it at that if I hadn't turned to leave and saw the rows of white powder on the dresser and a curled dollar bill still recovering from being rolled up. "Are you fucking serious?" I yelled. He knew I could deal with weed, but this was too far. Way too far. And by the sheer panic on his face, he knew it even in his messed up state.
"That's not what it looks like-" I slammed the door on his excuses and made my way out of the frat house.
He ran after me, of course. It was standard. I expected it. In fact, I would've been insulted if he hadn't. I heard him stumbling across the lawn, desperately calling my name. When I heard his face hit the pavement, I couldn't bite back the smile that spread across my face.
I strut down the street looking good as hell, the clicks of my pumps hitting the pavement drowning out my ex-boyfriend's wails.
I guess when they say your karma comes back threefold, they aren't lying.
I was completely and utterly lost in a part of town I didn't even know existed. It was dark, abandoned, and creepy as hell. Houses lie in rubble and dirt, and everything was completely silent. I could smell a bit of a dead animal wafting from one of the crumbled abodes. The only thing that looked even slightly promising was what looked to be an abandoned amusement park up ahead.
This is where my story truly begins.
My first clue should've been the entrance. It wasn't barred or boarded or blocked in any way. I had a surprisingly easy time slipping through that little entrance counter with the rolling metal bars.
The place looked as abandoned as it should have. There was trash everywhere, graffiti on the walls, and I could hear mice scurrying somewhere in the distance. It was sort of depressing, really. Concession stands stood empty, game booths were clear of prizes, and shadows crept over carousel with its chipped and cracked steeds that were poised and ready for duty.
My second clue: the carousel had turned round slightly. I had convinced myself it was a trick of the shadows.
The only thing that made sense to me was to climb to the top of the rickety wooden roller coaster and see if I could see lights of civilization. At least then I could know what direction I was going.
Before I proceed I would like to note that I had left my bag and everything in it - including any form of communication or GPS - at the frat house. I didn't want to dwell on the fact that I would have to go back there sometime tomorrow to get it, because I already knew who would be holding it hostage.
I slipped off my pumps at the bottom of the maintenance ladder. My hands were splintered slightly as they gripped the wood, but I was more concerned for my socks than anything else. They were adorable, and now they were covered with grime and dirt that I prayed wouldn't stain. My third clue was hidden in that climb: I had an unnerving feeling that something was watching me. I looked down to the ground, higher above it than I though.
There was a girl.
She was tall and deathly pale; she practically glowed in the darkness. Her hair was long and stringy and inky black, which contrasted from the rest of her. She stared up at me with eyes too big for her face - droopy with dark circles under her eyes that shadowed the glow of the moon. She was grinning at me, large and full of teeth, and what unnerved me further was that each tooth seemed to end in a deadly point. And she just kept staring. She didn't blink. I could see now that one of her eyes was a pale ice blue, and the other a pale pea green. She stared still, the tip of her tongue just barely running over the points of her teeth. I blinked. She was gone.
I stared at that spot for a good minute or so. I couldn't tell if what I just thought I saw was in my head or completely real. Maybe someone had slipped something in my drink after all. But I still had the feeling I was being watched. I glanced around the park, found it empty, then looked up.
A flash of green disappeared over the top of the coaster tracks.
I frowned, a little nervous now. I didn't want to go back down. Even if I wasn't sure she was really there, the possibility of it was enough to make me keep climbing. That girl had a look in her eye that said she would eat me raw and whole. I didn't feel safe, and the only way to go was up.
I peeked over the top and found it void of life, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I looked down again. There was someone else at the bottom now, in the exact spot the pale girl had been. This one looked like they were made of shadows. I didn't wait too long to find out, climbing onto the top of the tracks. When I was secure and sure I wasn't going to topple off the side and kill myself, I braved another peek over the edge of the railing. Nothing.
God, I was going crazy. Either that or someone was able to slip something in my drink in a rare time I left it open and wasn't paying attention. But I didn't feel dizzy or about to pass out. Maybe I was just overtired? Too much time at frat parties and in class, not enough time in bed asleep. That had to be it.
I shook my head and stood up straight, clinging onto the railing for dear life. I obviously wasn't afraid of heights. Afraid of dying was more my forté. I looked around for any sign of life or lights, but I guess it was too late. All the parties were over and everyone had gone to bed. There weren't even any streetlights to guide me, weirdly. It was like the entire city had been put under a blanket of darkness.
So that's why it caught my eye.
Far in one of the southern corners of the park, there were lights. It was a haunted house, a giant castle with satanic red spotlights meant to creep you the hell out and intimidate you by just looking at it. It must've been three stories easily, and the side looked like it had been abandoned while under expansion. Every light inside the castle was on, like a beacon of hope for the convenient lost soul in the dark. And like an idiot, I decided to go there, falling into the trap like a rat.
The roller coaster was so big that I walked along the slim maintenance sidewalk all the way to the end of it and it landed me a few yards away from the haunted house. I had to climb over the railing and jump down to the ground and I tore my tights, but I was too relieved to care. I ran up to the castle and stopped at the entrance. There, just above the doors, you could see the ghost of the old sign: Horror House. It was in large letters that was painted to look like it had blood dripping off them. But it had faded away from rain and sun-bleach and lack of care. Over it, freshly painted, it read Mr. Screa and that was it. Obviously it was unfinished, but it struck me as odd that it was there in the first place. Everything was odd that night, though, and it wouldn't be the last odd night of my life.
I walked up to the big wooden doors. They were thin and cheep and we're obviously not meant to keep anyone out. I grabbed one of the fake metal handles and pulled them open with ease. Not even locked. That should've been my final clue that I was making what could be interpreted as the best choice I've ever made, or the worst mistake of my life.
I might as well have sold my soul the minute I crossed the threshold.
The first floor was dead. Literally dead. In the entrance there were fake body parts all over the place, tossed aside carelessly in the abandonment, and dried fake blood on the floors and walls, which were rotting and covered with grime. The chandelier that was meant to make the effect of an old castle more realistic was rusting and swinging softly. I should've realized there wasn't a breeze.
In the "living room," there were two plastic skeletons faced towards an old fashioned fire place that was now the home to a family of rats and a nest of cobwebs. On the coffee table in front of them were two goblets that used to be what was possibly blood but it had singed rotted and hardened into an odd smelling rock.
The "dining room" featured a long glamorously made up dining table with the decapitated body of a man (still wearing khaki shorts, mind you) sprawled out on the table like one of those pigs with an apple in its mouth. The fake lettuce and cherry tomatoes on the sides completed the picture. There were two candles burning on either end of the "dead" person. Eight places were set at the table, each plate empty of the "main course" but had sides of glass eyeballs and what I guess to be plastic intestines.
This is honestly not how I thought my Halloween would go. I had planned to be at that party for an hour tops before I stole Ash away to go play with a Ouija bored at a cemetery and make out. Maybe even hit a home run right there on top of some random dead person's final resting place.
But no.
I was already heavily confused with a number of things, but the one I was confused with the most was why everything was so dark. I had only seen every light on not even ten minutes ago. Who would go through that much effort to turn off every single one in the few minutes it took for me to get inside? Or maybe I really was going mad.
I was ready to turn around and leave when a soft blue light started to glow from up the stairs. The castle had one of those large staircases that broke off into two staircases that went to either side of the castle in their own respective hallways. The light came from the hallway on the right. I didn't know then that what pulled me toward that light wasn't childish curiosity or a desperate need to find someone-anyone to help me. I didn't realize that even if I wanted to leave, I wouldn't have had a choice. So my frilly sock-clad foot made it up the grand stairs one step at a time, then up to the hallway.
Before I stepped into it all the way, I peeked around the corner to assess the situation. The hallway was dark and every door was closed...except for one. The light coming from it was still the soft blue, but now there were twinkling sounds coming from it, almost like...
And like an idiot, I kept going.
The floor creaked under my weight as I made my way towards the light. If I had paid any attention at all, I would've realized that each door I passed slowly creaked opened, and I would've felt all the eyes watching me. But I didn't. And I kept walking.
When I reached the room, I didn't know what to expect. I knew what I thought I was going to see, but I didn't understand the magnitude.
The room was covered in dolls. Both China dolls and plastic dolls to stuffed animals and even dolls that were made to look like real babies and children. The room was rather large, around the size of those expensive studio apartments I went to go look at in New York just for the fun of it. But the room was so filled with dolls and toys that it seemed cramped and uncomfortable and just too small. But it wasn't the amount that made me freeze in horror, or even the realistic-ness or the size.
All the dolls were eyeless.
There were only dark empty voids where they used to be, but it felt as if they were all staring at me. That something dark was staring out of them and looking at me. The room suddenly felt very sinister and all I wanted to do was leave, but I was frozen into place. My legs wouldn't move. I started to cry. For the first time in forever, I cried out of sheer terror. I didn't cry for anything, I had some sort of mental thing that made me too apathetic to care enough. I never cried in sadness or in anger or frustration. But I cried now, because now blood was pouring out of all their empty eyes and they were still staring and I was afraid.
"Tsk, tsk. Shush now or you'll wake the baby."
I whirled around to see a tall man standing in the doorway. His hair was long and green, tied back into a ponytail. He wore a ringmaster's uniform: a long black tailcoat with matching black dress pants and shoes, a green dress shirt that matched his hair perfectly, white gloves and a red bow tie. A tall black top hat sat on his head with a single black ribbon doing around the base, and instead of a bow or a feather, there sat an ensemble of bird skulls and red roses. His upper face was covered with a skull mask that looked to be made of real bone, perfectly molding to his skin until right above his lips. He was utterly magnificent and terrifying, regarding me with golden eyes that shone with insanity.
He strode up to my still frozen form and took my hands into his. He turned over my palms and inspected the small scrapes and splinters on them.
"My, my," he said in a tone like a parent regarding a small child, "what a dirty dolly we have here. We must clean her up before," his eyes shone as glanced up at me, and he grinned wickedly, "we add her to the collection."
I screamed. That's all I could do was scream while he kissed my palms, not once breaking eye contact. He then let my hands fall to my sides while he lifted his to wipe the running mascara from my cheeks with his perfect white gloves. Something in me felt guilty for ruining their pristine perfection. But that quickly fled when I watched him close his eyes and tilt his head back slightly, a look of pure bliss on his face. He was taking pleasure in my screaming.
Then a baby started crying and his eyes snapped open. He glanced at me briefly, almost mischievously, then went around me to the cradle I hadn't even noticed was there. I couldn't even remember moving my legs to turn around.
The man leaned over the cradle and shushed at the baby in it, saying sweet things to it in a low voice and trying to coax it to sleep. Slowly, the crying for louder, until the baby was screaming. But the screams coming from the cradle didn't belong to a baby. They were mine. And I could only stand there with tears streaming down my face praying to a god I didn't believe in. Then the screaming stopped with a choke.
The man looked down at the cradle and shook his head in disappointment. "Now look what you've done."
It wasn't a request. My body moved of his accord and pushed me towards the crib. I couldn't look away, no matter how much I wanted to close my eyes. I knew I wouldn't like what I was going to see.
When I got close enough to peer inside the crib, I collapsed on the floor and retched, everything I ate that day spiking onto the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut as I wretched, but I couldn't get the image out of my head. In that crib, there was no baby. There was a mutilated piece of flesh, with limbs all in the wrong places seeping out blood. It's eyes were gone.
It plopped in front of me, right into my vomit.
I ran. I was out of that room by the will of either God or the Devil, because it was the Devil up in that nursery. I ran back down the hallway, the doors swinging wide open with slams against the wall that no doubt had new horrors I forced myself not to look at. When I made it to the first set of stairs, I choked back another scream. There, on the other stairs, was the pale girl, grinning at me and crying blood.
I took a chance and darted down the first set and down the second. I ran past the dining room, where the headless man sat up and tried to shove its intestines back into its gutted stomach. I ran past the living room, where the skulls turned their heads toward me and glared with their empty eyes, the blood in their chalices boiling. The limbs in the entryway grabbed at me and the blood melted away into a clear message meant only for me.
See you soon, Dolly
The front door was heavier this time, like someone on the other side was pushing it closed while I pushed it open. I couldn't stop tasting my tears. I dared a look down the hall. The man stood at the top of the main steps, the pale grinning girl behind him and the mutilated baby in his arms. The main course was stumbling in my direction, tripping on its own guts.
Then he whispered it. He was so far but I heard it as if he were right next to me.
"We'll see you soon, Dolly."
The door released unexpectedly and I flew forward onto the floor of the amusement park. My tights were ruined and stained with blood - my blood - and my palms were torn. The door to the castle slammed shut, then suddenly everything was alive. The rides began to roar and sing with life, and the more the park came to life, the more the castle died. I watched, ass on the pavement while all the lights of the castle went out.
All of them, but a ghostly blue light in one of the two towers.
I let out one final sob before I scrambled to my feet and fled. I ran clear past the girl in the red dress who sat on the carousel and watched me with a caring expression that sealed my fate. I never noticed her then, but it's clear to me now.
My humanity had begun to slip away with the first drop of my blood that stained the threshold of that gateway to hell.