I do not own Hellraiser. I only own Jezebel and Sally.

Story Start

She woke up the next morning with a few unhappy grumbles, but soon a phone call distracted her from her early morning routine. The phone in the kitchen was ringing like crazy so she rushed downstairs. Grabbing the phone with rushed breath, the voice of the head of the psych ward answered her question of who was on the line.

"You can see your mother this afternoon," he said before hanging up the phone.

"Well I'm glad to go see her but that was rude," Jezebel snapped before turning on the coffee machine to get some caffeine in her system before work. She walked towards the freezer to pull out a pack of breakfast pastries, but her hand froze when the lament configuration was sitting innocently on the counter. "How the hell did that get here again?" she yelled in shock as she backed away from the box.

She hissed when her wrists bumped into the kitchen island, and she frowned looking down at the bruises on her wrists. They were cold to the touch, which was strange since bruises were never this cold on her skin. A glare was directed at the box as she rushed away from it to find a Ziploc bag. She used the end of her sleep shirt to put the box in the bag. "You're going to the police station and you're staying there," she hissed before preparing for work as quickly as she could.

Jezebel drove straight to the police station and delivered the box. She was given strange looks but she could care less. She wanted that box to stay away from her especially after how much her mother screamed in terror about it. Worry was on her countenance the entire drive to work. She felt nervous for some reason, and her bruises were only growing colder on her body. She even imagined she heard a dark male voice echo around her at one point in the break room, but nobody male worked at the store.

Leaving the break room with her muscles tense, she froze as she saw a police cruiser driving rapidly straight towards the store. "Get to the walls of the store," she screamed as loud as she could before the police cruiser drove through the glass front of the building. Shattering glass, roars of the engine, and screams from terrified workers and customers made her heart race. She almost gagged at the sight of the dead officer in the passenger seat of the vehicle. A panicking woman was sitting in the back of the police cruiser, and she was struggling with the handcuffs.

"Jezebel, he doesn't like it, he wants you to see him, hear him," the officer exiting the driver's seat was saying monotonously. His forehead was bleeding and a bullet hole in his gut was trickling blood onto the vinyl flooring. "He wants you to see him, Jezebel, you have to see him," the officer said and she watched in shock as he extended out his hand, which was holding the lament configuration. "See him," he shouted placing the box in her bare hand before he fell back with his eyes rolling up in his head.

The sick thump of his body hitting the ground mixed eerily with the whimpering of injured people in the building. A quick chill surrounded her as she stared at the box in her hand. She gritted her teeth when something was inside her mind telling her to open the box. To experience something she had never known. Sadly the box had no idea that she hated being controlled in any way after how she had grown up so far. She walked in the back of the building and clocked out before running to her car. The police sirens were already filling the parking lot as she drove as fast as she could to the local psych ward. She had many questions for her mother.

The psych ward was too quiet for her liking as she rushed to her mother's room. Even the workers seemed in a dead trance as they shuffled to their next job. She tried to shake the chill from earlier, but it was still clinging to her desperately. Her bruises were disappearing, but small light blue symbols were appearing instead. Scarily enough the symbols resembled symbols on the box tightly gripped in her hand.

"Mom," she called out after knocking and entering her mother's room. She jumped when her mother was sitting up in the bed staring straight at her.

"You need to get rid of that box. Do not open it no matter what! Stay away from him, Jezebel. Stay away from Pinhead. He promises pleasure, but he will kill you and make you an eternal slave to his torture," Sally said never blinking, hardly pausing for breath, and never losing the hated glare at the lament configuration.

"I don't want to open it, but every time I try to get rid of it, it always ends back in my hands," Jezebel snapped setting the box down on a chair behind her so it would be out of her mother's sight.

"Burn it," Sally shouted clawing at her blankets.

"Mom, I'm not burning it. I've only heard that burning something evil will unleash whatever is in there into this world," Jezebel said tiredly before wondering about visiting the junkyard and throwing it in there. "I'll take it to the junkyard," she whispered before repeating it again for her mother to hear.

"That's a wonderful idea, honey, be careful. I love you, Jezebel," Sally told her daughter before hugging her daughter goodbye.

Driving to the junkyard was terrifying yet exhilarating. She wanted to be rid of this evil box once and for all, but there was honestly no telling if her plan would work. The marks on her wrists were now more noticeable, but she would try to stay positive that they would disappear after she got rid of the box. She paid the dumping fee for the item before she was directed to the right area to dump the box.

She stepped out of the car and threw the box as far away from her as she could. She felt herself grow lighter as soon as it left her hand, and warmth began to leak back into her. However, the warmth froze quickly when she saw a dirty hand catch the box before it landed in a junk pile. She backed towards her car as a man covered in filth and ragged clothing slowly approached her with a twisted grin.

"This is meant for you, don't throw away such a wonderful gift," the man said never losing the dark glint in his eyes.

She jumped back when he tried to put the box in her hands. "I don't want it. It's not mine," she shouted backing away from the man.

"But he wants you," the man snapped and grabbed her wrist harshly. He turned her arm so he could see the markings, which were even more detailed now. The markings were slowly spreading up her arms and down her hands. He smiled at the marks while trailing a finger around the marks. "You're already his," he said before placing the box in her hands. "Don't lose that," he said almost chidingly before he walked away from her.

Jezebel would have been freaking out by now, but she was too shocked by the image that had flown through her mind when the man touched the marks. A large skeletal dragon was sitting in a room full of fire and chains. A man wearing black leather was facing the dragon, and the back of his head was facing her. The pins in his head made her fight to hold in her gasp.

"Make sure she keeps the box," the dark voice sounded in the room before the dragon flew off.

"That's the same voice from the laughter I imagined earlier," she thought before she realized she was surrounded by the junkyard once again. "That must be pinhead," she whispered before hissing when the marks in her skin glowed black and pain went through her nerve endings.