Splatterhouse 4
by: Elena L.S.
Prelude
"Heavy breathing, screaming, the sound of wet flesh being torn...all of these things have just become the constant, the every day norm for me now.
I know it should be gone. I watched it shatter into a million tiny pieces. I destroyed it with my own two bare hands. I kept hitting it and hitting it even after it was beaten. My hands gripped the cold bone exterior trying with all their might to rip it in half, even if it was impossible. The power was incredible. It should be gone..."
His hand scrawled the words hurriedly. He was writing so fast now that the muscles within his hand burned and ached.
"I'm no longer me, Jennifer."
His hand ceased in writing and his own dark eyes re-read the last sentence. His hand paused for a long moment as he seemed to consider that last statement. He'd been a good person once. Once, he'd been your every day, typical college student. Nothing special really. He'd gone to class, taken an interest in Urban Legends particularly, slept and ate. He'd even had a beautiful girlfriend with a smile that was incredibly contagious. He'd been normal once.
As if possessed, his hand continued to write.
"I'm not the person I once was. It should be gone, the power lust, the voices, the sick twisted abominations...the mask. It all should be gone Jennifer, but it just isn't. I'm becoming something else. My dreams have turned into nightmares, my nightmares are becoming my reality."
His hand began to shake and he clenched the pen even tighter, nearly ripping into the white paper with it's tip as he wrote.
"I need to go back. I need to know...I need to have it."
He had begun to breathe harder now like an addict almost getting what they needed.
"I-"
"Daddy..."
He froze. Had he heard him? Was he awake? His ears strained to listen to the quiet night air that filtered through the small house. Nothing but silence.
No, he hadn't heard anything. However, the maddening grip that was presently upon him, that had been causing his heart to beat like an engine in full drive, was gone now. For the moment, he was himself once again. He focused his eyes back to the light-weight piece of paper beneath his hand and swallowed. He felt as though he were swallowing a solid chunk of cold rock and suddenly a sick feeling replaced the power rush he'd felt moments ago. The insides of his stomach twisted around and about and he began to feel the familiar pinch of tears welling within the lids of his eyes.
"I'm going to become that thing again. I don't want you or David to see me like that. I don't want you to suffer anymore because of my obsession. I don't want you to go through hell once more because of my link to the mask. I still hear you cry and whimper in your sleep and I know what you're going through. The West Mansion was my fault. It became an obsession to me and one that I didn't want to admit to you. Because of that, for the third time, you were put in danger. And what's worse..."
He released a long breath of air that had been withheld inside of his lungs and then continued to write.
"I put David in danger."
His eyes re-read the line again and he felt a single tear make it's way down his face.
"It wasn't your fault Rick."
"No," he murmured and dropped the pen from his hand. It hit the floor with small clatter and began to roll off a ways, but the noise it made seemed drowned out by something much louder. He listened again, this time listening for anything. A scrape, a thump, anything out of the ordinary that would suggest it had returned.
Again, silence.
He glanced down at his hands. Regularly they were nothing special and tonight wasn't really any different. They were typical hands of a thirty-seven year old male. But before, years past, they had been monstrous. They had been tools of massacre, ripping flesh piece by piece, and digging into warm entrails. They had been powerful. They presently began to shake and tremble in fear and anticipation.
"You can have it back Rick."
His body went frigid and goose bumps lined up and down the skin of his arms even though the night air was warm and comforting.
"No," he repeated, though he could hear his own resistance becoming as thin as fragile glass.
"Come back to me Rick."
His heart pounded furiously loud within the confines of his ribcage. The cold voice sent a need through him that was painful yet pleasurable all at once. The need for what he once had, coursed heavily through his veins. He closed his eyes and visions of torment, blood, and power ran heavy through his mind. He grit his teeth together. The small part of him that was still that normal college student, was trying so hard to resist.
It sensed that part and began to pick it apart like a predator does it's prey.
"Don't fight it Rick."
But he wanted to. They were still there with him; Jennifer and David.
Without fully realizing it, hot tears began to slip slowly down his face. He was supposed to protect them. His heart tore in two at the thought of never feeling his wife next to him or holding his son ever again. He didn't want that. The small part of him that was still himself couldn't bare the thought.
His body began to shake and his breathing was guttural and heavy.
"You don't belong with them anymore Rick."
A scream tore it's way through his throat and it felt as though it'd nearly tear his chest apart as well. He threw the small table over with such force he sent it flying into the wall. The monster within him was being born. Very soon it would take over and rip itself out from within.
"Go back to the mansion Rick."
He fell hard to his knees, his fingers digging into the solid oak floor so hard that the tips had gone white. His lips were pulled back from his teeth and bared in a sadistic and twisted grin. He was losing himself.
"Rick? Rick, where are you?"
And then it was gone again. His whole body nearly went limp and a fresh feeling of panic took over. Jennifer.
"No...no," he breathed, she couldn't see him like this. His eyes, still wild like an animal's, searched the room with desperation until he'd found what he'd been searching for. He moved across the room reaching for the piece of paper he'd had and his hand shot out and snatched the pen that was laying still upon the floor.
"I'm sorry Jennifer. Please forgive me."
He scrawled the last few lines hurriedly and forced himself to stand. He only managed to get out the last two lines before grabbing his coat from the nearby closet. He moved quickly to the kitchen, wanting nothing more than to escape that house. He threw the note down on the smooth surface of the kitchen counter and his hand weakly dropped the pen once more.
He nearly fell through the door and once outside, he began to sob. His own hands fumbled within his coat pockets, seeking out the keys to his car. "I'm sorry..." he said to no one in particular, the words wrenching their way from his throat.
He wanted to hear it. He needed to hear it. He needed to put an end to the agony that the still normal part of him was gripped with.
By now, he'd managed to start the car, hurriedly throwing the vehicle into reverse and tearing out of the driveway. His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard that he was certain it might bend within his grasp. His chest quivered.
He needed to hear it's voice.
The house became a speck among other houses and he just barely noticed the lights flood the kitchen as he turned the corner onto the main road.
And then there it was.
"I'm here for you Rick."
He looked back out to the lonely dark road. He closed his eyes and a loud, blaring noise filled his mind pushing everything else out. And then all at once his tears, his sobs, his pain, everything stopped. The person he was, the person that he'd been, that college student, they were gone now.
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Disclaimer: I have created this story purely for entertainment purposes only and claim no right what-so-ever so the characters Rick, Jennifer, David, The Terror Mask or any other characters within the Splatterhouse games. Splatterhouse is copyrighted to Namco.