A/N: I do not own Hellraiser or Pinhead.

Blood.

It was everywhere. Thick streaks of the fluid covered the floor, walls, and the ceiling. Mysterious metal chains were lodged in the plaster in a chaotic pattern, the human remains dangling from them dripping crimson blood on the once-brown carpet. The entire house held an oppressive atmosphere that seemed to drain all the rooms of light.

Pressing her sleeve to her mouth to block the stench, Grace cautiously wandered room to room, eyes widening when she came to the kitchen. Crumpled in the corner with her throat ripped open was her friend, Herald, his sightless gaze fixed on some horror she could not see. Tears threatening to fall, the woman whirled as creaking sounded upstairs. Mounting the stairs to the second floor, Grace lithely climbed them to discover more chains crisscrossing the corridor. Noticing the door to Herald's bedroom ajar, she crept inside, stare falling on a lone golden cube occupying the center of the room. Intrigued despite herself, she reached out to pick the object up.

Whoosh!

Screaming, the woman jumped back as a thin ebony chain struck an inch from the cube, nearly impaling her hand. Heart galloping, Grace stiffened at a cold laugh behind her, making her slowly turn to come face-to-face with a creature straight out of her nightmares. Dozens of pins had been driven into his skull and face while black eyes devoid of emotion raked Grace's body. A tight suit of leather failed to hide the fact that there were gaping wounds on his frame. Fear gripping her, the woman retreated--right into the hands of someone she had not seen. "Let me go! Who are you people?"

"Demons to some, angels to others," Pinhead rasped in a deep voice, advancing. "Your friend summoned us by opening the box, and we claimed his soul as well as those in this dwelling. Now it is your turn to embrace the darkness that is Hell. For anyone who comes in contact with this object sells their soul to the Cenobites. Let us begin." Several chains whipped at Grace, entering her flesh with excruciating agony. Barbs stretched her skin almost to its breaking point, rivers of blood raining onto the floor. Pinhead spoke, his words an echo in her dying mind. "This will be much easier if you stop struggling and give in."

Life rapidlly fading, Grace barely registered the feeling of her body being torn in half, her eternal soul spiralling to the Cenobites' version of Hell.