I'm back! Please go have a look at the poll of my profile to vote for which creepypasta you want my next story to be about. I'm having a lot of fun writing this story, and even more now that our mysterious man has finally shown his face! Or well… uh… his mask XD
Please read and review to keep me inspired! Xx
A gloved hand clamped down over her mouth instantly, cutting off the scream. The man pushed Embry's small delicate body back against the door, one hand over her mouth and the other fisted in her paint splattered top, holding her in a vice like grip. A small growl seemed to be coming from his throat.
"Shut up," he hissed, "or I will have to knock you out, which is no fun at all." Embry widened her eyes in fear, but nodded, hoping he would release her so she could run. There was no doubt in her mind that the psychotic man would do exactly as he said and knock her out, even though that is what she would prefer, instead of having to suffer the pain of whatever sick thing he was planning to do with her. Running probably would only bring that pain sooner, so she very quickly shook that idea from her head. Embry didn't want to give in and let this man win, but she really didn't have a choice. The hand left her mouth and she had to bite her lip to stop herself making a noise. "Much better."
The man let go of her shirt and took a few steps back, walking over to the coffee table and gently playing with the petals of a flower in a vase there, but making sure to keep his body facing her, ready to dart forward to grab her if she tried to move. Whimpering quietly, Embry's knees gave out and she sunk to the ground against the wall, looking up at the murderer. Now she had a chance to look at him. Very tall and probably strong, he towered over her small height of 5'2". Like in the painting of himself he had finished, he wore a blue jacket with a yellow smiley badge pinned to the front, black jeans, and black boots which adorned his feet. On his hands were black gloves, made from a hard material which she had felt on her face just moments ago. A dark thought crossed her mind. Those gloves were worn to stop his finger prints appearing everywhere. He was a smart and probably experienced killer.
"You fascinate me," he suddenly said, his husky voice piercing the silence. Embry continued to stare. "I remember watching you when you started to figure out what was going on. You were in your little room, painting me, not knowing I was watching you from your window. I must admit, if your bedroom window didn't look out into the garden, this would have been much harder. It was too easy to sneak through the gap in your garden face, climb the tree by your window and then balance on the ledge. I had to disappear then, no thanks to your brother."
He pulled one of the petals from the flower and seemed to look at it for a while, but she couldn't tell, thanks to the mask on his face. Being in the same room as him and so close made it all seem so much more real. When she had first saw him in the streets it hadn't been as bad, mostly just shocking. She had been too stupid then to make the connections.
"You were watching me before then," she choked out, her throat painfully closing around the words. It was a struggle to talk, but too many thoughts were nagging at her mind. In the streets when her phone went off, the bloody badge, him coming into her room…
"Yes I was," he replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice as she questioned him. "When I saw you come out of your house for the first time I hid, not wanting you to see my face and become suspicious. I have to take a lot of caution not to be caught, you see. So I hid. But when your phone went off I knew you were watching me, so a while later, out of curiosity, I looked for you, finding you at your friend- Georgie's?- house, a few blocks away." Slowly he came closer to her as he spoke, standing a few feet away, looking down, strands of dark hair falling over the white top of his mask. "I went away again, having no interest in your girly activities. I returned to your house the next morning. I assumed you knew of my own activities last night, as I noticed all the yellow tape and vans around the thrift shop."
Embry gasped as he admitted to murdering Mary Jessop. If he murdered her, he murdered the last girl as well, as they had been found in the exact same state. All her thoughts and theories were confirmed now, and it dawned on her she was trapped in her house with a killer. Small tears welled up in her bloodshot eyes, threatening to spill down her sickly pale cheeks.
"Yes, I killed her. Mary, I believe her name was. At least, that's what her name badge said that she had to wear for her job. The other girl told me her name was Hailey before I lured her to the woods. She was too easy that it almost wasn't fun."
A dark chuckle left his lips and he moved closer to Embry once again, crouching down in front of her, and she could tell even through his mask that he was staring into her fear stricken eyes.
"But anyway, when I arrived at your house I was disappointed to see you weren't there, but it allowed me some time to snoop around. Your window isn't locked, by the way, so I could get in. I looked through your artwork, amazed to see your secret talent, but then I heard a car. It was you, of course it was. I waited around the side of your house for my opportunity, then gave you a small gift, although I must say, it was very painful having to shove a pin into my stomach. And then, as I explained a few moments ago, I was thrilled to see you work it all out. Very clever." Another chuckle, and another small gasp from Embry, who by this point couldn't speak.
After looking at her for a minute or so, he stood, rising gracefully to his impressive height. For some reason he placed the petal he had pulled off back onto the flower, balancing it carefully. Embry hadn't moved for what seemed like an eternity. Everything hurt from the uncomfortable position, her head swam, her eyes stung from the salty tears, and fear was consuming her body. Why would he be telling her everything when she could just go and tell the Police? Because he was going to kill her of course. Leave something for her parents to come back to.
"I took the opportunity of your distraction to sleep, and then I came back at night, wanting to leave you a few more gifts. I'm very generous." Embry was convinced that he was smiling beneath the mask, as sick as that was. "Once again your window was unlocked, so I came through, and realised you were downstairs. I heard voices and worked out you were eating, so I found our little badge and placed it upon your pillow. I waited for you to come back, outside your window, and then snuck back through, watching you sleep for a while." Embry's face contorted, no longer upset, but angry. Watched her sleep? How dare he? "I did the carving on your window first, then went to your art room and admired the painting of me. Finding your art supplies was easy, and I finished it for you, depicting myself in my signature outfit, you could say."
"How many of those jackets do you own?" She suddenly asked, curious. Almost immediately after asking that question she regretted it, confused as to how she could be asking something in this situation. He seemed outraged, whipping his body around to glare at her.
"One," he growled back, the playfulness gone from his voice. Embry ran a shaking hand through her hair and then used all her strength, which seemed to have disappeared, to stand, trembling. Angry eyes watched her movements. A sigh flew past her lips.
"So how do you wash it then, if you wear it all the time?" Another growl came from his throat, causing her to flinch away, her back pressed against the wall. In this situation she was completely submissive, and he knew it, for he stood in a manner that suggested he had full control.
"I don't wear it all the time," he answered. "'Signature,' remember? I just wore it here for effect." Embry giggled nervously at his words and he seemed taken aback. "No one has ever giggled with me after I told them that I'm a murderer, or asked about my clothing choices," he commented, a smirk evident in his voice.
"Yeah, well it's not the first time I've been alone with an evil man," she retorted, and the man tilted his head to the side in curiosity, as if asking her to continue. "My dad… But you don't need to know that. You're just going to kill me anyway, aren't you?"
"I'm not sure."
"You're not sure?" She demanded, confidence surging up within her as she realised that he wasn't set on killing her. Maybe he was just playing a game, but even a little reassurance was enough. "What do you mean you're not sure?" The man sighed.
"I like to play games, and you have been quite fun to mess around with. Watching you has kept me amused, but now you've seen me, it won't be as fun because you won't be waiting for me to come to you. You don't even seem scared of me anymore. The satisfaction is going away. Now, I'm not saying it wouldn't be fun to kill you, it just… could be more fun doing other things." The quick explanation was enough for Embry to work out his plans for her. No, killing her wasn't going to be enough now she knew, of course not. Instead, torturing her was going to be the better option, and there was little doubt in her mind that he would kill her afterwards, maybe only when she was begging for it. Another small giggle bubbled up to her lips, hysterical laughter this time.
"Fuck you," she laughed, staring at him with wide eyes. He chuckled darkly, closing the gap between them. He grabbed her wrists and held them in one large hand, pinning them above her head, whilst using his other hard to press something hard, sharp and cold against her neck. A knife.
"Say that again," the man challenged, a smile evident in his voice, which caused Embry to just laugh again, although fear had taken over her body as soon as the knife's blade had touched her delicate skin.
"Fuck," She began, grinning in a malicious way, "you." The man growled and moved his knife from her neck, instead grabbing her shirt in his fists, pulling her forward and then slamming her frail body back into the wall, her head cracking on the hard surface. Then he let go, walking away to the other side of the table, breathing deeply. "Anger issues?" She questioned, trying to push him further.
"Shut up." It was a warning. He was twirling his knife at a blinding speed between his fingers, never ever cutting his fingers, clearly showing it was something he had spent a lot of time doing. Embry shuddered at the thought of how long he had had the knife, and how many people he had killed with it.
"Make me."
"I mean it," he growled menacingly, fixing the strange black-eyed stare of his mask on her, suddenly holding the knife still. Finally she was quiet, hardly breathing, watching him with cautious eyes. Blue clad shoulders rose and fell steadily, until the man seemed to be scary calm once again. "Please don't push me like that, Embry," he requested in an unusually polite manner. "It's very hard to control myself at the best of times, and I would appreciate it if you wouldn't aggravate me."
"I don't see why I can't. I don't want to have to go through whatever you're planning for me, so if I can get you to kill me out of rage, at least it will be quick." Oh, how she wished he could have just done it then.
"Embry… Do you mind if I call you Em?" She nodded quickly, not wanting to upset him at all. If he was upset he would want to hurt her like she hurt him, but if she angered him, he would just attack. It was a careful balancing act, but she knew she had lost her chance today. The man continued. "I don't even know what I am going to do with you. Please stop trying to make me kill you, because then I will get pissed off."
"On one condition," she threw back, somehow managing to make the words filled with hater yet soft at the same time, hopefully letting this man how she felt towards him. Tilting his head to the side as if to ask her to go on, he took a curious step towards her.
"Go on?" He questioned, his voice cautious. Every movement he made suggested he was ready for her to attack him, defensive. If that was the case then he really was stupid. Embry wasn't brave enough to take him on, and she was too scared. Her strong voice and harsh words spewed confidence, but inside she was a wreck, not sure whether to laugh or cry or shut down completely.
"Tell me your name," she asked. He shook his head vigorously, and she sighed and rolled her eyes. "So you're happy to tell me you've been watching me and messing with my head, but your name? Oh no, we can't say that!" More hysterical laughter.
"Hold on, hold on," he requested, holding his hands up in front of him to defend himself. "I can't tell you my real name. No one knows it; no one knows me for me. That can't change. I can, however, tell you what they call me." The words were coming out his mouth, but he didn't seem to mean them, and it sounded like there was a raging war inside his head.
"Okay?"
The man took a deep breath and put his knife into his jacket pocket, closing the pocket flap over the top to secure it all. Embry was eager to be able to call him something, anything.
"I'm sure fairly soon you will find out why they call me this…" he mumbled, taking another deep breath. "They call me the Bloody Painter."
Read and review please, I love all you guys who offer me support and inspiration! Go check out my poll, remember, and a big thank you to Superkassu for always giving me a lovely review! TINT xxxxx
