Sarah, Bloody Sarah
Chapter Eleven: What You Want to Become
Disclaimer: Echo the Insane in no way owns the awesomeness that is Labyrinth. She does (unfortunately) own Travis, Carl, Eli, and Mack. Echo the Insane does not own Sarah, but likes her new nick name. Echo the Insane (unfortunately) does not own the sexiness that is David Bowie, or his Labyrinth alter-ego, Jareth. Basically, I own a gang of imaginary bad guys who are all gonna die painful deaths. Yup. Thass all.
Sarah stood before the old furnace in her basement, watching the clothes she had been wearing only moments before burning away. It was fall in New Hampshire, just chilly enough to run the heat for a little while. Linda was sedated, but even if she woke, it wouldn't seem odd. Sarah had changed into an old tee shirt and pair of gray sweats, her old bunny house shoes on her feet. The clothes in the furnace popped and occasionally let out the smell of burning meat. The smell faded almost immediately. Sarah watched them blacken and curl and wondered just what it was she was becoming.
She thought of Eldore's ax, sitting in the back of her closet. She had wiped the muck with her shirt, had rinsed it in the bathtub. She would have to look up proper weapon care.
Sarah looked down at her hand, wondered just when she had gone so numb. The clothes turned to ash and fell forgotten to the bottom of the furnace. She shut off the valve, the flame sputtered, and died away. Sarah walked slowly up the stair, her brow furrowed, lips scowling.
She didn't know who she was anymore. The thought of killing Travis did nothing to her. It brought her satisfaction, brought her a sense of peace. The Sarah of four months ago would never have imagined killing a person. She had participated in three murders so far, about to commit a four herself.
She felt nothing. She felt no fear, no stab of conscience, no remorse. Sarah caught a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror as she went to the stairs. She looked like same old Sarah, if not a little tired. She curled her lip, saw her fangs, and suddenly she didn't look a thing like the old Sarah. Her eyes looked darker; almost black, her skin looked papery thin and gray Her hair looked limp, her frame looked thinner. In short, Sarah looked like a monster. Her lip dropped and she was normal again. She curled and the monster was back.
She was in awe of herself. Horrible, terrible awe.
"What am I?" she whispered, stepping back from the mirror. She ran up the stairs, passed the guest room where her mother slept, unaware of her daughter's transformation.
She opened the door, stumbled inside, and was confronted by the quiet, abandoned room where her brother once lived. She gasped, slammed her back against the door. It smelt so beautiful in here, so pure. Sarah's stomach lurched, the memory of Toby raped and torn apart flashing picture bright in her eyes. She fell to her knees, grabbed the little Transformers trash can near the door, and vomited.
Sarah sobbed, hugging the trash can to her, her shoulders shaking. Toby was laughing, he was smiling, he was perfect, holding her hand, telling her how much he loved her, how much he would always be there for her.
"I love you Sarah. You're the best big sister ever."
Sarah wailed, her fangs extending almost a full inch into her mouth. Venom dropped onto her tongue, tingling it, but not poisoning her. She looked at her hand, found them thin, with taloned nails just like Boogeys.
"I'm a monster Toby," she gasped.
"Sarah."
Her head jerked up, her fangs at the ready. Jareth was before her, looking down at her with pity. Anger built up in her. She launched forward, knocking the trash can from her lap. Her hands through up to his throat. He caught her wrists, yanked her to him, and hugged her close.
"Sarah, calm down."
She screamed, her fangs disappearing into her gums. Jareth slipped her arms around his neck, his arms settling around her waist. Sarah buried her face in his neck, her breath shuddering as she clutched at him.
"It takes a monster to kill a monster, Sarah," Jareth whispered in her hair. "You know that."
She nodded stiffly, staring passed his neck to Toby's bed. Her brother should be sleeping in that bed. He should be happy and healthy and not rotting in a grave. She said as much and Jareth agreed.
"But he isn't pet. He's gone and all we can do, you and I, is avenge him. One more left, sweetling, just one more left."
Sarah looked up at him, the sudden fear of what she had become nearly overwhelming. "What then Jareth? I don't just go back to normal, do I? I'm always going to be this. A monster that kills monsters."
He nodded distractedly. "No, there will be no more normal for you. You are more one of us then human now, Sarah."
The echoing of Eldore's words sent a shudder through her. "When do we kill Travis?" she asked, her voice hollow.
"Soon," Jareth replied, rubbing her back. "Rest a few days. Come to terms with what you are. We will kill Travis when you are ready."
Sarah nodded, letting go of him. Jareth stood and offered her his hand. She took it, stood beside him, and breathed deep of Toby's room; tainted by the smell of her vomit. She walked mechanically to the trash can and headed for the bathroom, Jareth right behind her.
"I'm sorry," she said as she rinsed the can in the bathtub. "You keep having to come calm me down."
"Don't be sorry, Sarah," Jareth replied, leaning against the sink. "You're worth the trouble." He smiled when she looked over her shoulder at him, his eyes twinkling. "It gives me an excuse to see you."
Sarah sighed, chuckling a bit as the whole horror of the moment finally slipped away. She knew she was a monster, she knew she would change before the deaths had begun. She felt the peace of why she was doing this, why she had become this, slipping back in. She knew this had to happen. She knew what she was to give up to accomplish revenge for Toby and Jack.
She dried the trash can with a hand towel, Jareth's silent presence a comfort to her. She returned the can to the place it had always been, took a long look into Toby's room, and shut the door. Jareth took her hand, and they returned to her room.
He lay with her until she fell asleep, and quite possibly long after. She had dreams of warm hands rubbing her back, impressions of gentle kisses on her cheeks. She had vague memories of a quiet voice singing softly to her, the feeling of love and protection she had been without since Jack's death.
Sarah dreamt of the ballroom, swinging and swaying in Jareth's arms. As the World Falls Down, he sang, his expression haunting and needing and painfully beautiful.
Sarah woke with the sun the next morning. Jareth was gone, the spot where he lay cold to her touch. Sarah felt confused when it came to Jareth. She didn't feel like she was betraying Jack; she didn't love Jareth. She didn't know what she felt. She did feel something though. Something special, something dark.
Sarah sighed and got out of bed, slipping into her comfy bunny slippers. She went downstairs and turned on some Saturday morning cartoons. She sat down on the comfy chair cornered from the couch (the couch still smelt awful to her, despite days of spraying, vacuuming, and just plain fighting with it) made a bowl of cereal, some toast, and had a glass of milk. She was aware of the empty spot beside her, where Toby should have been. She was aware that she was in her parents home, when she should have been at home with Jack. She was aware that they were gone and it was coming to the time when all their murderers would be dead.
Sarah sighed and for the moment put her destiny from her mind. She had Linda moving around a couple of hours later and went about making her Mom breakfast.
She was frying up some eggs when Linda came shuffling into the kitchen. She looked awful, to be honest. Her hair was matted and sweaty, her eyes puffy, and mouth turned down.
"Sarah..." she began, her brow furrowed.
"Yes?" she prompted, looking up at her rough looking mom.
"I had...dreams," Linda said, hopping up onto stools at the kitchen bar. She set her chin in her hands, tapping her fingers on her cheek. "I dreamt you were screaming and a man was trying to comfort you. You were throwing up in Toby's trash can."
It took all her control not to stiffen. Her mother must have woken up, and in her drugged stupor, seen Jareth. Sarah shrugged, smiled slightly. "It was just a dream Mom. I had a nightmare and did scream," she said. "I bet you heard it and it influenced your dream."
Linda was looking critically at her still, but at last shrugged and gave the same slight smile back to Sarah. "I guess that's it. I'm sorry you had a nightmare sweetheart."
"It's okay," Sarah said, "it happens."
Sarah made Linda a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. Linda bemoaned the fact her daughter could cook better than her. They stayed in their pj's all day, sat around like a couple of lumps on a log, and just generally did nothing.
They watched some tapes, watched some TV, even played a bit of Scrabble (her Mom was the Scrabble queen and totally whomped her). Sarah felt relaxed and for the first time since the World Fell Down, felt like a normal human being.
The following day was the same. Sarah got a call from Karen, telling her that Grandma Louise was doing much better and wouldn't have to be hospitalized after all. They were going to stick around a couple of more days just to be sure, but would be back in town by Thursday at the very latest.
Linda helped Sarah with getting the house completely back in order. They went through bills ("Your father was always better at money than I, but even I know that the interest rate on that new car they got is way too high!"), went through some of Sarah's old things to donate, even repainted the back fence (something her Dad had been putting off). The normality was a wonder, and Sarah enjoyed it until Tuesday.
Monday evening, Linda took her pills, gave Sarah a big hug and kiss, and went off to bed. Sarah picked her clothes carefully. Jeans tight enough that Travis wouldn't be able to clutch at them but loose enough to give her free movement. A form fitting tank top that gave her ample room to swing her ax. Run down tennis shoes with good traction so she could avoid slipping in blood. She tied her hair back in a bun (no ponytail; that could be used against her), took off any jewelry she had, retrieved the ax from her closet, and called for Jareth.
He came from the shadows. He was wearing the white outfit he had worn when she faced him at the end of the Labyrinth. His hair and eyes seemed wilder than she had ever seen, his hand holding out the familiar crystal to her.
"Sarah," he began, his voice husky, "once more, only this once more, I offer you your dreams. Are you sure this is what you want to become?"
She reached up, took his wrist gently, and lowered it. The crystal fell from his fingertips, rolling away from them and under her vanity. The little music box began to play, its melody haunting and familiar. Sarah met his eyes, stepped close enough to feel the heat of his body.
"I've already become it, Jareth," she said, watching his eyes close at the sound of his name. "I'm ready."
Jareth lifted his arms around her, the white gauze of his clothing gently brushing against her. She wrapped her arms around him, her face buried in his neck. The world was falling down around them, and she was at peace.
When she opened her eyes, Jareth was different. He no longer wore the white outfit, but now wore the same attire he'd worn in the Escher Room. He looked so much the same, completely untouched by time. He stood before her, his hands behind his back, his expression unreadable. They were in an old bedroom, devoid of furniture, it's wallpaper peeling and browning. The house was quiet, the windows sealed and so dirty Sarah couldn't see out them. The house was abandoned, and from the lack of sounds outside, somewhere far away from civilization.
"Bring him here," she commanded.
Jareth's arm came from behind him, juggling a set of four crystals; three on the bottom, one on top. The bottom three showed scenes of the others; of Eli dying in the cornfield, of Carl screaming soundlessly in the hospital; of Mack twitching on the end of the ax now in Sarah's grasp. Her heart was racing, staring into the fourth crystal, which showed Travis sitting in a recliner, watching TV.
He looked as normal and bland as her memories. He was sipping on a beer, his expression one of disinterest. He looked up from the screen and spoke to someone outside of the crystal's view, sneering as he took another gulp.
Sarah licked her lips and met Jareth's eyes. "Bring him," she repeated.
Jareth looked at her a moment longer, and let all the crystals fall. Eli's broke, then Carl's, then Mack's, and finally Travis'. Smoke rose from the pieces, and Jareth vanished.
From the glass shards and the eerie smoke that rose from them, a figure appeared. It was writhing, swirling up from the shattered pieces, taking form slowly; first a shadow, then a mass. The mass shaped and reshaped and in a heartbeat was the confused figure of Travis, his back to Sarah and Jareth, looking around the abandoned house that would be his grave.
He turned, seeing her. He threw himself against the nearest wall, as far from them as he could get. He looked like a deer in headlights, his chest heaving, eyes wide. "Who are you? Why are we here?"
The voice from her memories. The slight drawl and deep hatred in it. Her lips curled automatically, her fangs extending to the fullest. She could feel her muscles tense, felt suddenly faster; stronger. "Bastard," she hissed, her voice sounding as foreign as her body felt.
Travis' eyes widened, taking in her transformation. "What...are you?" he growled, looking desperately for an escape.
"Murderer," she said, stepping closer to him, her hands tightening around the ax. "Rapist."
Travis' eyes widened, his tongue flickering over his lips. He looked calm suddenly, tilted his head. "You're Sarah, aren't you?" he asked arrogantly, relaxing.
Sarah froze, her head cocked.
"The kid kept screaming for you," Travis taunted, inching across the wall towards the door. "Save me Sarah!" He snorted. "What are you? A little girl with an ax and some fancy fake teeth and make up. How did you find me? How did you bring me here?" he demanded.
She said nothing, her blood boiling. He talked of Toby with such ease. How dare he? How dare he question her?
She crouched ever so slightly, ready to spring. Travis read her movement and lunged at the door, managing to get through it. Sarah was on his heels, faster than him, the blunt of her ax catching him in the back midway down the rotten stairs. Travis tumbled to the bottom, screaming as he went. Sarah stopped on the stair, peered down at him.
The fury stopped in her, watching him struggle to lift his upper half from the floor. His left arm was clearly broken, probably some ribs as well. He was moaning, disoriented. He looked over his should blearily at her, his face suddenly panicked. She watched him struggle to his feet, watched him stumble to the front door. She knew it wouldn't open, had no reason to hurry as she slowly came down the stairs.
Travis gave up the door with a curse, brokenly staggering into the living room. Sarah followed, taking the last step with a small jump, smiling her fanged smile at his frightened face. He was trying to not look afraid. He was trying to be brave. To her it was all stupidity and bravado. His fear reeked off him, almost covering the nasty, somewhat familiar smell of old laundry that came from him.
She paused, breathed deep. The smell of old laundry; like gym socks soaked in vinegar, was almost recognizable. Like something in her house...the couch. She tilted her head, examined him closely. "Have you ever been to my house?" she asked menacingly. "Did you see Toby there? Is that why you and your friends killed him and Jack?"
Travis looked confused. He shook his head, his face pinched in disgust. "No. I'd never seen the kid before that day. I'd remember a sweet little thing like him." His face split into a smile that made her stomach churn. "Never seen him before. Wish I had. Would have liked to enjoy him longer. Beautiful boy."
The blood began boiling again. A veil of red fell over her vision, drenching him in blood colored monotone. Sarah lurched forward, screaming as she brought the ax down. Travis was quicker than he looked, quicker than his injuries should have let him be. He ducked under her ax, which was caught in the wall. His arms were around her suddenly, lifting her from the floor. Her hands slipped off the ax, her body slamming to the floor with Travis on top of her. His hand was on her throat, keeping her fangs away from him.
"They're real," he said with wonder, looking down into her open mouth. He met her eyes, his expression not one of horror but delight. "You're a real monster, aren't you girl?"
She struggled against him, her body stronger than before yet not strong enough to throw him off. The red was turning black at the edges as she bucked against him, trying to catch her breath. She could feel his erection pressing into her stomach, her taloned hands coming up and ripping at his side.
Travis howled, his free hand coming down and back handing her across her face. She was dazed by the pain, her vision swimming from it and the lack of oxygen.
"I don't," he growled brokenly, "normally do girls. But you...you're special. You turn me on."
Sarah snarled, bucked again, trying to throw him off. His body actually leapt, almost rolling off her. He regained his balance, though, and bore down on her harder.
"Jareth!" she gasped, taking the one breath the moment allowed her.
Gloved hands were on Travis' neck, pulling him off Sarah in a flash. Travis was thrown easily across the floor.
Sarah gasped, gulping air greedily. Jareth pulled her to her feet, taking her face into his hands to check her neck for injury. He gave her an annoyed glare, then turned towards the slowly recovering Travis.
Jareth strode passed Travis, who was now sitting up, shaking his head to clear it. Jareth easily pulled the ax from the wall, carefully handed it back to Sarah, and turned his attention on Travis.
He walked circles around Travis, smiling when the man looked up at him. "Who are you?" Travis growled, rubbing his own neck.
"No one of importance," Jareth said simply. "She's the one you need to watch out for."
Travis looked over at Sarah, who was breathing hard, watching him.
Travis snarled, rose shakily to his feet, and charged her, his arms opened to wrap around her.
Jareth leaned against the wall, next to the spot where Sarah's ax had been embedded moments before. Sarah met his eyes for a split second, watching Travis come at her with her peripheral vision. She brought the ax down the perfect instant, the blade slicing through his left arm, taking it clean off.
He screamed, his charge turning into a roll as he fell at her feet, blood squirting from the stump above where his elbow used to be. Blood splattered his face as he squirm, splattered her legs and stomach. Sarah watched him struggle and scream in pain and smiled down at him when he looked at her in horror.
"Raping children, killing them, killing innocent men that want to protect them," Sarah said, kneeling down beside him. He was clutching his stump, still screaming. "That's not okay, Travis."
He whimpered, unable to scream anymore. Sarah rose, her ax over her head. She held his gaze as she brought the blade down, slamming it into his right shoulder. Travis screamed again, blood shooting from the gash, his neck oozing blood and tissue all over the place. Sarah's face was covered in it, her hair matted with it. Her once white tank top was stained red through and through, and when she wrenched the ax out of his flesh, he bled some more.
He was dead before her third swing. She chopped off his left leg, then his right. She took off his remaining arm, his head, and split his torso from his lower half. She thought about chopping off his penis, but there was no point to it. A man without a lower half (or arms, legs, and a head) had no use for a flaccid, dead penis anyway.
All the while, Jareth stood by, watching her. Every now and again, a bit of Travis splashed up on him. He calmly wiped it off, and continued his watching.
When at last there were only insignificant pieces of Travis left, she stacked them in a neat little pile in the middle of the room. Jareth handed her a towel that he produced out of a crystal and she cleaned her face and the rest of her exposed skin of bit of Travis. She propped the ax against her leg, let her hair out of its restrictive bun, and let out a sigh of relief.
She waited, staring at Travis, for any remorse or sense of evil to overcome her. She merely felt accomplished and complete. She told Jareth as much, who simply nodded in agreement. She grabbed the trash bags she had brought along with her and began to bag up the little bits of Travis left. She bagged him all up and deposited him in the rusty garbage can outside the old house.
"Let's go to the Labyrinth," he suggested, taking her hand. "You need a shower." She picked up the ax, took a long, last look at the can full of Travis, and they were gone.
A/N: I dedicate this chapter to Anon. He PMed me from his official account to give me support. Thank you Anon and all my other amazing viewers.