Sorry for the delay everyone; Christmas is my favorite holiday so it has been hard for me to focus or sit still. Enjoy this latest chapter!

And for the record, I think that we are all aware of the fact that I do not own the Texas Chainsaw Massacre or any of its components. Kelly is my creation though ;-)

Thomas knew the drill: wait in the basement with his chainsaw while Uncle Hoyt lured the unsuspecting victims into the house so Mama could distract them. The 'Sheriff' usually left whatever girls had come along with Luda Mae in the house and then asked the boys to help him with their vehicle. He was supposed to listen for Mae's "Tommy!" before making his way upstairs to take care of the girls. Uncle Hoyt usually did a pretty good job of weakening his charge, and Thomas knew better than to horn in on Hoyt's antics ahead of time: torturing people amused him, and his nephew wasn't about to cut his sadistic games short.

However, the system that the Hewitt family had almost perfected into a disturbing art of sorts had been challenged today. Hoyt hadn't given Thomas much warning, in fact it had been a mere five minutes until the lost teenagers had filed past the cop impersonator and into the house. The bulky man barely had time to rip Kelly from her sweeping detail and all but throw her hastily into his room, the only safe place in the house during this eventful hobby of theirs.

As Thomas awaited his mother's call from a rusty metal chair in the basement slaughtering room, he thought back to the last moments that Kelly and he had spent together in the kitchen. The grip he had on his trusted weapon tightened as anger reared its ugly head inside of him: Hoyt had been so stupid to mention the visitors in front of his Kelly.

"My Kelly?" His thought caught him off-guard. Did he have that strong of feelings for her, or was she simply a distraction to him? Mama seemed to be taking her time with these passersby, so Thomas allowed his mind to wander for once.

He certainly felt different when he was around her; a feeling would spark deep down where only anger and loneliness had ever existed. It was unlike the negative emotions that had always tormented his soul and dominated his daily actions…he liked this new and uplifting sensation. Seeing her smile at him when she'd first arrived had sent a thrill of hope running up his spine, taking him by utter surprise. He'd been desperate to please her, to make her smile again, to make her his friend. Thomas wanted Kelly to like him; he could picture her hanging out with him without grimacing or making snide comments like everyone else did. His limited knowledge of her character told him that, despite some rude moments, she tended to be sweet and considerate of others…even of him. Her invitation to come inside her car had shown him just how kind she could be; she hadn't a clue what he was like or of his intentions back then. Thomas knew full well that he could have easily overpowered her small frame; she had to have known that as well.

"TOMMY!" Thomas snapped out of his musing at the sound of his mother's call. Eight seconds was all it took for him to pound up the stairs and another six before he'd reached the living room. Luda Mae sat in her favorite chair across from the two girls Thomas had heard talking excitedly earlier. Quickly he scanned the pair as he tried to discern which his uncle would like to play with more. He never had quite figured out what game Hoyt was playing with his selected prizes; all he knew was that it must've hurt for all of them to scream like that. Fleeting moments had passed by the time he'd determined that the Sheriff would find the blonde one more pleasing; he unceremoniously threw the average-built young woman over his shoulder after he'd knocked her friend out with a hefty back-handed slap to the face. Leaving Mae with the remaining and unconscious girl, Thomas travelled up the staircase as lightly as if he were carrying a feather. He halted for a brief span of time outside his bedroom door, glancing toward its bottom to discern any movement on the other side. Nothing moved, or at least Kelly wasn't close to the door. A trip to his uncle's room relieved him of his burden; the girl had done her best to fight back but to no avail. She was fastened to Hoyt's bed as easily as if she had cooperated.

Crack!

The firing of a nearby gun interrupted Thomas' return trip downstairs. Straining his ears for any mention of his name was fruitless; apparently the Sheriff hadn't gotten his fill of cruelty for the time being. The masked figure was just pleased that his anger was being spent and directed at something other than his nephew, which was usually the case. He ambled down the stairs, walked briskly to the living room, and greeted his mother with a sideways glance.

"Good job Tommy! Yer uncle's still playing outside with his toys, so why don't ya help me with this one quick? My poor back ain't what it used to be…" The elderly woman fixed a proud look on her adopted son as she checked for a sign that he'd understood. Thomas nodded then bent down to grasp the second girl's wrists; it wouldn't make any difference if he dragged her, especially if she wouldn't be awake to protest. Down into the basement she went, her fate decided and death soon to come.

He laid the visitor's limp body onto a wooden table that was outfitted with iron fastenings, one for each limb and a larger one for the neck. Nailing the shackles onto the roughly constructed stand was a necessary but tiresome task. When he'd finished Thomas returned to the home's ground floor and rejoined Luda Mae. Her smile, directed at the bulky man, faded as she followed his gaze toward the ceiling. He was obviously thinking about Kelly.

"Child," Mae's voice attracted Thomas' attention, "she's been real good; no noise-makin' at all, not even a scream…" Her attempt at reassuring her masked boy had instead seemed to make his worry worsen as a doubtful expression conquered his previously unreadable visage. Luda Mae sighed as an eager look gleamed in her eyes. "Go to her Tommy. She needs you right now."

Thomas' gaze shot to his mother. How could she possibly know if Kelly needed him when he himself was unsure whether or not she enjoyed his presence? He cocked his head to the side but left for his room when his mother gestured for him to do so.

Sliding the heavy oak table from his door was a small testament to Thomas' strength, not to mention willpower as he'd accomplished the task rapidly and without creating any noise whatsoever. Once that had been taken care of, he delicately placed his palm on the doorknob and turned it slowly.

The view into his room did not reveal any sign of Kelly. Dread overcame Thomas as he looked from the windows to the dresser. She hadn't gotten out through the glass-paned windows: these had been painted shut years ago and wouldn't have yielded to the relatively weak hostage. She wasn't hiding behind the dust-covered dresser either, its vicinity being devoid of life. The muscular being straightened his back as he racked his brain for a solution. Where could she have gotten to? The room had only one exit: the door which Thomas had hurriedly blocked before. The door, which was now open and unattended…the door!

He spun around just in time to watch a crouching Kelly made a mad dash toward freedom. His sudden movement had distracted her, and as her head turned toward his stature she stepped on the hem of her new dress. The woman tripped and fell to the ground. She felt her body being grabbed as she was forced onto her back; opening her eyes exposed an angrily shaking Thomas. The sentiment shone in his eyes and was made manifest in the clenching of his jaw and the way he balled his hands into fists at his sides.

He glared down at her as he shook his head violently from side to side, silently berating her for attempting to leave him. She had to learn not to try and carry out these pointless endeavors now; he didn't know how mad he would be the next time something like this happened. She shifted her terrified stare from his frowning, covered face to his right hand as he raised it above his head. He'd wanted to hit her, he was so angry at her. He saw her as his one and only cure for his loneliness and the only companion he'd ever have. He was certain that her escape would be a terrible blow, a loss that might kill him. Trying to leave was tantamount to betrayal in his eyes… from now on she would not go from this room without him by her side at all times.

As he studied her frightened face longer he realized that his anger was speedily cooling; he didn't want to cause her harm now, and the more he dwelled on what he'd been about to do, the more he became disgusted with himself. How could he strike her when she lay at his feet, motionless and defenseless? Yes: he'd hit many other people, some simply for coming into his home, but she was different from all the rest. Other people were only dumb cattle to him, waiting and asking to be slaughtered, but Kelly…she was a rare gem.

Something about her vulnerable pose softened his glare. Hesitantly he lowered his hand to her face so that she wouldn't interpret it as a hostile motion. When Kelly didn't take his offered hand Thomas changed his glare to an importunate gaze. His hand went lower still until it made contact with her pale cheek. He noted a quickening in the rhythm of her breathing as he gently brushed his knuckles back and forth against her soft skin. He smiled into his mask, relishing the feel of her smooth skin on his rough hands and the fact that she had done nothing to stop him or cry out. She'd even sustained eye contact as he towered over her.

Thomas knelt down so that he was closer to the object of his attention, bringing both arms from his sides to hang next to Kelly's reclining body. Gingerly he moved his right hand from her cheek to the back of her neck and positioned his left arm under the inside of her knees, lifted her from the hard floorboards, and set her down on his bed. Kelly's expression changed as well, going from confused and scared to quizzical.

"Tommy! Damn it boy, why aren't you comin' when I call ya?" Hoyt's shout caused Thomas to jump.

He afforded himself one last glance at the quiet auburn-crowned woman before rising to his full height and walking back out his door, shutting it behind him. He was halfway down the stairs when he realized that he hadn't replaced the table in the door's path. Thankfully, taking the table from its usual spot and forcing it into position didn't eat up very much time.

Thomas dashed the distance between himself and his uncle in less than ten seconds, making certain to bring along his chainsaw. He was met with an all too familiar scene, at least for his family: one of the young men was lying on the grass and clutching his knee. It was obvious that Hoyt had shot him there for who knew what; Thomas gave a brief nod to the sheriff wannabe as he gestured at the bloodstained chainsaw and then the wounded teenager. "Get 'em Thomas, he's all yours now."

The chainsaw revved to life as its hulking owner made heavy steps toward his victim. Just as he reached the now cowering boy Thomas froze. A sudden glance toward the house made his heart ache: he'd seen Kelly's figure standing in the window, watching the sick drama unfold below. She'd pulled herself away from the window when Thomas had looked up at her. No doubt Kelly had figured out what he was about to do; he wished in his grief-stricken mind that she wouldn't be repulsed by him now, that she would find a way to ignore or at least not fear this side of him. He vowed never to harm her as he'd wanted to when she had tried escaping; that was to be a thing of the past.

Another gunshot, farther off this time, brought Thomas' mind back to the work at hand. He looked down at the bleeding man who was regarding the chainsaw-wielding giant with a hopeful yet pleading face. The boy had interpreted his pause for reflection as a sign that Thomas was thinking about sparing him, so he flashed a friendly smile up at the masked visage, hoping to encourage the man to let him alone. This was not to be his lucky day: Thomas had tilted his head at the gesture but proceeded with his job anyway. Blood spewed from the arteries and veins which the weapon tore up as the murderer sawed off the thus far uninjured leg. Screams erupted from the teen's horrified countenance as he struggled fearfully on the dead grass. Using his hands to drag himself away was all the boy could handle, his blood pressure dropping toward dangerously low levels. The wail of the chainsaw pierced his ears as the metal teeth severed one of his arms from his body at what had been his shoulder. Nodding his head as he considered his handiwork, Thomas made the chainsaw roar ominously as he brought about his finishing touch: off came the boy's head, which was cut into from behind. The crunch of breaking bones on metal was something that the masked man had taken time to notice over the years, barely noticeable unless one knew to listen for it.

The broken corpse lay in the field as Thomas left to find Hoyt; his deranged uncle probably wanted him to deal with that other boy too, unless…

He rounded the corner just in time to see Hoyt kicking the second man in the chest as he sprawled across the ground, sputtering nonsense words and moaning in pain. Thomas dimly wondered if the sheriff had challenged him to a fight. Of course, being in a fight with Hoyt had never been fair or worth the energy to their victims; all had suffered at his evil hands and none had won their freedom doing it. Hoyt ceased his rough treatment of his bruised and battered sparring partner to glare at Thomas.

"I didn't call ya boy; why don't you help Mama with her cookin'? And get that boy out of the dirt to the downstairs before bugs get in 'im." He ignored Thomas' nod as he resumed taunting and cursing at his living toy. No emotion stirred in his soul as he watched the boy being mercilessly beaten and humiliated by his tormentor. Thomas saw this as retribution for the way he'd been treated as a child; since his classmates had gone off to live elsewhere with their families, he figured the next best thing was to make these visitors suffer in their stead.

Lifting each separated limb from the ground, the masked figure threw the boy's body parts into a large aluminum bucket. In addition to the bucket, he'd also retrieved a large, serrated knife from the kitchen when he'd gone to check on Mama. The girl who was fastened to the table in the basement hoarsely hollered up at him, believing that she was saved; he'd silenced her with a loud and violent stomp of his foot on the wooden floorboards above her. He'd become aggravated at the girl's action, not because he had a problem with her screaming; that had always been easy to block out. It was because the girl's excited yell had triggered his memory of Kelly peacefully sleeping next to him. The thought made his heart ache as he pondered whether she'd ever allow him to be that close to her again. Now, out in the blood-soaked grass of his backyard, he took his frustration and uncertainty out on his first victim of the day. Thomas cut the limbs up and then the torso until the body had disintegrated into manageable pieces. These were all placed in the bucket. All that remained at the spot as Thomas rose and stalked away was a puddle of blood which rapidly soaked into the dirt.

Kelly's POV

"Oh God, what's he going to do to me?" Kelly could not tear her eyes away from Thomas' raised hand as she flattened herself against the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut, and the next thing she knew his slow, heavy breathing had neared her face. Something warm and slightly rough touched her right cheekbone, stroking it in a downward motion repeatedly and…soothingly. Her eyes opened to throw a puzzled look up at her captor. He continued to brush her warming cheek as he looked into her eyes. Kelly's mind went utterly blank; she could neither think nor summon a sarcastic remark, something she's always been able to do. All she was capable of at the moment was gazing into Thomas' brown eyes, which held a spark of what she assumed was satisfaction. She barely registered the feel of his hand that slid under her neck and grasped the small of her back, and the same went for the other hand that supported the backs of her knees. Lightly she was lifted from the floor; she felt weightless in his grasp until her back met the bedcovers.