Warning: Very Explicit Chapter. This is not for the squeamish.
-oOo-
When Eli's hearse broke down in a dangerous neighborhood, Clare and her friends thought they'd find safe shelter in an abandoned home―they were wrong.
"Here kitty, kitty, kitty…" "Eli?" "No. I'm Fitz. Was Eli that guy with the belt? Cause it's mine now. And if you come now, I'll make your death real quick, so you won't feel it when we eat you."
-oOo-
"What are we gonna do?" Damian asked again. "We just gonna walk away and pretend we didn't know they were here?"
"I like the sound of that," Danny said. "Better if we mind our own business. Safer that way. Know what I'm saying?"
Connor glanced at his friends studying their faces. Then he turned his attention back to the house.
"I'll tell you what we're going to do. We're gonna call the po-po."
Jimmy laughed. "Five-oh ain't gonna do shit. Might as well call the National Guard."
"You're probably right," Connor agreed. "But it ain't right, letting them go in there. You all know the stories about that place. Any of you feel like going in to rescue them?"
Jimmy stared at the ground. Danny and Damian glanced at each other. The others looked away.
"None of you want to play hero?" Connor teased. "None of you want to rush in with guns blazing?"
None of them responded. Gunshots rang out. None of them flinched. They were used to it. A sleepy, laconic sounding police siren started up from far away.
"Well," Connor started after a pause. "That's okay. Because I don't want to either. Not in that place." He turned around and stared back at the house once more. "Not in there."
-oOo-
As the looming figure lunged forward into the foyer, Clare and Eli backed away, nearly knocking over Fiona, Adam, and Alli. Bits of Drew's hair, scalp, and blood dripped from the weapon the killer clutched in its gnarled hands; a rough-hewn chunk of granite the size of a watermelon. The boulder was affixed to the length of an iron pipe. Together, they formed crude but effective wars hammer. Clare wondered how it was possible to lift such a thing, let alone swing it. Then her gaze turned to her attacker, and she wondered no more.
He drew himself up to his full height, raised the hammer thrusting it before him. He seemed over seven feet tall. His chest, arms, and legs were corded with thick slabs of muscle. His skin was the color of provolone cheese and covered with large brown moles and festering sores. Bloody saliva dripped from his mouth, leaking around gums that receded from his black, broken teeth. His breathing was harsh and ragged. His head was bald and misshapen. He glared at them with eyes that were almost perfectly round, rather that oval-shaped. His pupils were black. He was nearly nude, clad only in black garbage bags held together with frayed duct tape. His penis was just as big as the rest of him jutting from between the sealed bags. Clare gagged at the sight. He was uncircumcised, and the foreskin looked infected. Pus dripped from the purtrid member, splattering onto the dirty floor. Worst of all was the attacker's stench. It was revolting―sour milk mixed with feces and sweat. Clare's nose burned.
She noticed all of this in a matter of seconds, but it was the longest moment of Clare's life. Time seemed to aused. Then it came rushing back with a wallop.
The hulk backhanded her, knocking Clare off her feet. She slammed into the opposite wall and slumped to the floor. Spitting blood, Clare spotted Eli's cigarette lighter. Without thinking about it, she reached out and snatched it. The madman laughed. She scrambled to get to her feet, but she slipped in a spreading pool of Drew's blood.
Their attacker laughed again. With his other hand, he swung the mallet. Clare watched, cringing as Eli dodged the blow, narrowly avoiding having his chest crushed.
The five teens scattered. Shrieking, Alli ran to the end of the hall and flung open one of the doors, disappearing through it. The only signs of her passage were the bloody footprints left in her wake. While the figure menced for Adam and Fiona, Eli kneeled over Clare and thrusted out his hand. She grasped it, and he pulled her to her feet. They ran down the hallway in blind panic, forgetting about Fiona and Adam. And forgetting about Drew. Even forgetting about each other. The only thing their mind comprehended was survival.
They followed Alli's crimson trial through the open doorway. Clare glanced back once and saw what was happening to Fiona, but her feet kept moving. Their friends' screams faded behind them.
-O-
"Open, you fucker!"
Sobbing, Fiona clawed at the entrance, trying to get back outside. She beat at the locked door with her fists. Tears coursed down her mascara-stained cheeks. She babbled a string of nonsense―jumbled pleas for her parents to come get her.
Adam tugged att her arm. "Fi, come on!"
She shoved him away.
A massive shadow fell over them both, and the hammer whistled through the air. It slammed into Fiona's curled fist with a sickening crunch. Blood and pulp squirted out from beneath the stone. Fiona wailed, gaping at the pulverized flap of meat where her hand had been. The attacker pulled the hammer back for another swing, and Fiona flailed helplessly. Blood jutted from her crushed appenddenage. Adam moved to help her but before he could, the attacker swung his hammer again. This time, the blow crushed Fiona's head.
Adam froze, helpless, feet rooted to the floor, all flight instinct had left him. He stared at Fiona's body, trying to understand what he was seeing.
(A/N): So I took a century uploading the next chapter. I am sorry but I'm pretty sure my apologizes will mean shit to you, right? Well let me make it up to you with the next chapter:D