A/N: I AM SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED THIS SINCE NOVEMBER! I hope I still have readers! Here's your well deserved chapter 6 if you're still willing to read!
The next morning was… weird.
Somebody was screaming in near proximity to me. It lasted for about 5 seconds, but stopped abruptly with a choked sound. I was so tired that I was convinced it was a 10-second-long nightmare, and so I went back to sleep.
The next time I awoke was probably a couple of hours after the screaming. I crinkled my nose when I inhaled a god-awful, decay-like stench coming from the same room. I cracked one eye open, searching the room. I didn't see anything from where I was, so I let it be.
I stood up to go to the bathroom and maybe shower, but tripped on something on the way there. I fell flat on my face in a puddle of something wet. It was cold, and was most definitely the source of the terrible smell that woke me up in the first place. I lifted my head, disgusted, and peered down to see what I had landed in.
It took me a few seconds to register it.
It was blood.
I had tripped over a dead body.
Oh my god.
I shrieked, horrified, and rolled away. This only covered more of my clothes and body in the disgusting fluid and freaked me out even further. My screams of horror were intensified. I took a deep breath to let out another scream and gain the strength to get myself out of the fucking puddle of someone else's blood, but didn't get the chance.
Someone knocked me out, for God's sake.
(3rd Person POV)
Two hours earlier
Chucky was bored. He hadn't killed anybody in almost an entire day. Andy was still sleeping, and even though he was antsy to get on the road, he couldn't find the strength in himself to wake her up. She looked… hilarious.
Her mouth was wide open, making her look like a fish out of water, and her eyes were puffy from sleep. Her hair was a tangled mess, and he couldn't fathom how she even got a brush through it every morning.
But although this version of Andy was amusing, it was only for a short while. Chucky found he preferred the loud-mouthed version of her instead, because at least then he had someone to intimidate.
Tiff was still tied up in the closet. There was absolutely no one to even-
Knock knock.
"Housekeeping!" a dainty voice called out from behind the door. Chucky's mouth curved into a little smile.
"Showtime," he muttered happily, jumping up to unlock the door. He backed up quickly, gripping his knife and suppressing the urge to giggle.
The woman that came through the door peered inside curiously. She'd heard someone unlock it, hadn't she? She shrugged apathetically to herself, wheeling her cart inside.
She shut the door behind her, looking around. She spotted a girl in the bed, a blonde one. Wasn't Jennifer Tilly supposedly staying here? Since when was she blonde?
The maid began picking up the things that were carelessly strewn about the room, placing a rather heavy book back on the shelf and picking up towels from the ground. Her eyebrows rose at the small bloodstain on the floor. She crouched down to inspect it more closely.
Her mistake.
Chucky took this opportunity to sneak up behind her and jump on her back. She started screaming, thrashing around and desperately trying to get whatever thing it was off of her back. He raised his knife high, letting out a hysterical giggle, and plunged it deep into her neck. Her screams stopped immediately, much to Chucky's disappointment, and turned into small choked sounds. He soon grew bored of these, and stabbed her again until she lost the strength in her body that was keeping her up. Her hefty body slammed into the ground, blood already pooling around it.
Chucky unsheathed his knife from her throat, proud of his handiwork. He wiped it carelessly on his overalls and put it back into his pocket.
This entire ordeal – which was incredibly loud, Chucky noted with alert – lasted about only 15-20 minutes, and still Andy was not awake. Once again he considered waking her, but instead leaned back against the edge of the bed and closed his eyes, figuring it would be a while until she finally got up.
He was right. An hour and a half later, he heard screaming once more.
He looked up and saw Andy lying in the pool of blood that the housekeeping lady's corpse had left. He grimaced at the stench of death in the room, then realized Andy was probably going to get them caught if she kept screaming like that.
Chucky acted quickly, grabbing the same heavy book he'd knocked Tiffany out with, and smacked Andy on the head as hard as he could. She went out like a light, faceplanting right into the puddle that she was so horrified by.
After doing this, Chucky soon realized that he'd knocked out his ride.
"Dammit!" he exclaimed, paranoid that someone had already called the cops. And rightly so, because Andy had screamed so loud he was sure everyone in the entire goddamned state had heard her. He realized he was out of options, and so he made his way to the closet.
(Andy's POV)
I opened my eyes groggily to find myself in the back of a car. I heard voices from the front. I struggled to decipher what they were saying.
"…even need her anymore? Why don't you just kill the kid?"
"I just do! She's part of the plan, okay? I just can't wait to see the look on his…"
I found that I wasn't able to keep my eyes open for much longer after that.
..
I woke up again. I sat up quickly, wincing when the pounding in my head increased.
"Wha' happened?" I asked groggily. It was then that I realized no one was in the car with me. We were parked in an empty alley.
Had we made it to Chucky's friend's house?
I jumped about a foot from my seat when someone banged on my window. It was Tiffany, with Chucky in her arms, both looking agitated. The door opened and Tiffany yanked me out, pushing me further into the alley.
We made it to a door. I was shaking by now, completely freaked out. I couldn't even make a bitchy remark.
I looked at the door number: 5B.
"Are we… here?" I asked quietly.
Tiffany handed Chucky to me with a small, unnerving smile tugging at her lips. "Why don't you find out, sweetface?"
I looked down at Chucky, but he wasn't looking at me. He was focused on the door in front of us.
"So this is where the bastard lives now, hm?"
"I'm guessing he's not really an 'old friend', then?"
Chucky barked out a laugh, then shifted in my arms. "Knock on the door."
"What? Like this? I'm covered in blood and holding a stitched up doll-"
"Just, do it," Chucky said through gritted teeth. I hesitantly raised my blood-covered fist to the door, and finally rapped three times. We waited until finally someone came to the door.
Imagine my surprise when he opens the door.
Andy Barclay. My father.