(A/N: This is my first time so please be gentle! Anyway, this story is about a sick kid who, through insufferable bad luck I suppose, lives a hard-knock life. Anyway, as this is a fanfic, the kid gets to meet several famous serial killers on the way. Incredulous, right? Yeah. Lol. If you have any questions, comments and angry reactions, kindly post 'em up as R&R, thanks! :D)

Ch.1

A dilapidated truck ambles its way across the Texas interstate, leaving massive clouds of dust in its wake. Up front, the radio rasps and flickers from one radio station to the next as the agitated driver recklessly turns the dial around and around.

"Daddy, I wanna listen to m' tapes." Says a boy from the back.

"I dun' wanna listen to yer damn tapes," says the Daddy.

"Mommy, I wanna listen to the m' tapes." The boy insists

"Let him listen to his tapes, Earl."

"Shut up, woman! You can't let 'em go doing whatever stuff they wanna; gotta show 'em who's Boss."

"But you 'aint no Boss, Daddy."

"Keep that piehole shut kid! Else 'imma throw them tapes out the window."

The Boy grumbles incoherently, shuffling in his seat to inflict his misery upon the other three that sat with him. Boy was the biggest of the kids, and he was sixteen, already big, beefy and pimply. Being the oldest he would always find ways to torment the others: His younger sister who was thirteen and another brother who was twelve who was fat and always asleep. But he'd always find reasons to torment the youngest kid, who was barely over six and usually sat wedged in a corner, chewing her nails and not speaking.

"Y'know that's gross, don't you?" Boy nudged the small kid's head with his finger. "Chewing on your nails will get the big worms in your stomach and soon they'll eat you out from the inside!"

"That's not true! That's not true!" says the girl who was thirteen. "It's not true, is it Mommy?"

"Course it's true!" Boy keeps nudging at the little kid's head, now using his hand to shove her harder into the corner, "See? Worms eating way past her brains; I can hear 'em rollin' around in that skull, see?"

The Girl, who was squeamish, puts her hands over her ears and screams shrilly.

"Shut up you little dipshits!" Daddy says from up front, but Boy keeps on nudging harder and harder.

"See Daddy? She's like one of them zombies who—gaaargh!"

It had only been a matter of time until the kid's teeth would go from her nails to Boy's, and she lashed out like an animal three days starved, scratching and gnawing at Boy's fingers and every part of him she could reach with her small hands. Boy yells and flails around in the constricted back seat, waking up his sleeping brother and terrifying the squeamish Girl, and irritating Daddy so much that in a matter of minutes, they were one hell of a racket all holed up in one small space.

"Get her off me! Get her off me!" Boy screeches while Mommy tries pulling away the frantic nail-biting kid off him. But when she does, she manages to kick Daddy right in the face, and get one of her feet caught up in the clutch. Soon, the truck goes spinning, hits something in the middle of the road and gets thrown off course into a ditch.

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(A/N: I suck at name-giving so I give the characters pretty dumb names. The driver is Daddy, his wife is Mommy, the jackass son is Boy, his sister is Girl, the fat brother is Fatface and the small kid's name is Nails because she likes her nails with a hungry passion.)

Nails opens her eyes and blinks. Then looks around. She is in a small, dark and filthy room which, from the vantage point of us omnipotent onlookers, is a makeshift slaughterhouse. Meat hooks and belts and other sharp, rusty objects hang from the ceiling, dried blood is all over the walls, overlapped with the fresh flow of new blood dripping from, well, everywhere. Nails has never seen a slaughterhouse, and has never seen blood, and so a feeling of curiosity washes over her upon taking in the sights, the smells and the sounds.

The sounds!

"Mommy! Mommy!" Girl's screams are heard, but she is nowhere in sight. An Ice Box (an old version of the freezer) nearby shudders in tune with Girl's screams. Nails looks up and sees Daddy's pants and shoes hanging on one of the hooks. Fatface's clothes are in a heap in one corner. Mommy and Boy are nowhere to be seen.

A door slides violently open and the sound of screaming rushes into the room. It's the sound of Boy screaming, but for Nails, this was a normal affair. Boy was always screaming.

"That boy's got some lungs." An old man edges backwards into the room, laughing, "Reckon it'd be chewy when they come right out, dunnit?"

Boy's screams are disrupted as he is gagged and hit repeatedly in the head to shut him up. The old man walks back out, "Now, now…don't you worry now, boy. It'll be all right. No need to raise a ruckus—"

Boy keeps screaming anyway.

"You need to stay put now. Here see, supper's gonna be round in a minute. Y'like supper boy?"

Boy screams.

"Hush now, hush now. Yer really gonna like supper. Y'see I make the best chili in the state, see? Right now it's so damn good 'coz the meat's fresh and fatty, see?"

And again, Boy's relentless screaming, this time joined by a series of grunting.

"Oy! You git yer ass back in there and get your work up and done; Ice Box can't shake that much or it'll get broke, boy!"

There is grunting and whimpering as the old man shoves a large, rotund, quivering mass into the room.

Nails looks at him blankly. He had an apron on, and a wooden spoon in one hand, a head of curly dark hair and, to Nail's point of view, a very weird face. Of course, to us viewers and readers, it's none other than the chainsaw-wielding denizen: Leatherface.