Chapter Twenty Eight
Confusion had rippled through Maria as she had made her escape from the foyer, seeing and hearing things she had not wanted to. Anger had also surged and mixed with her confusion, feeling betrayed and ridiculed. She kicked a fallen plastic pot away in her rage, not caring if it made a loud clatter when it hit the floor again.
"First Lisa, and now the little shrimp. I see how it is. They're playing a joke on me!" cried the frustrated teenager, still storming down the hallway she was in. When she came to a split in the hall, making a right, she continued. "They're all in it, I bet. Payin' that boy to scare me… I bet Paula was faking it, too!"
Her anger reaching its boiling point, Maria pounded her fist on the wall, pain erupting through it. The feeling appeared to snap her out of her anger-induced daze, a moment of clarity replacing her rage. "But then… what if…"
Shaking her head with a low grunt, Maria stepped inside the first room she saw. She hoped to take a moment and think over everything, to come to a logical conclusion to her situation. After all, she was better than that.
Maria found herself in a very disused nursery, everything inside coated with layers of dust and countless spider webs. The room brought on more confusion than before as she looked around, wondering why there would be such a thing there. Did Mr. Tusspot have a kid?
She did not have much of a chance to dwell on her inner questions, hearing the faint noise of what she recognized as a child crying. The sound was everywhere, yet it came from nothing that Maria could see. The volume increased as time went on; Maria was able to make out words within those cries. "No", "Don't do it", "Please stop" were the few her frazzled and baffled mind could detect.
Then, through the haze of crying and shouting, Maria could hear heavy footsteps heading her way. Panic racing through her, the dark-haired teen dove for a hiding spot, knowing who was making those sounds. She laid stomach-down under the old bed, its long sheets concealing her from view. In her current position, however, she could see the room and the door to the far left almost perfectly.
As she had expected, Murdoc burst in, though he came to an abrupt stop soon after. Maria could almost feel his eyes searching the dark nursery, inspecting every visible area. The terrified teenager remained as still as her trembling body would allow, wide black eyes staring at the caretaker's mud-speckled boots.
His expression blank, Murdoc calmly walked into the room, every step giving off a clicking sound as his footwear hit the wooden floor. He strolled past where Maria was hiding, heading for a small table across the way. From what Maria could see of it, various picture frames stood haphazardly on its surface. Murdoc appeared drawn to these pictures, picking up one of them and gazing at it for quite some time.
Then, unprovoked, the disturbed caretaker threw the frame he was holding to the floor with quite a lot of force; it easily broke on the hard tiles. The crashing sound startled Maria, but she managed to keep quiet in spite of it all. For good measure, Murdoc stomped on the destroyed picture, smashing the glass and bending the photo inside.
"Blasted wo…" Murdoc trailed off when he heard something, taking a step back from the mess he had made. In doing so, the heel of his heavy boot came down on Maria's exposed hand with all of his weight on it. The bones in her hand gave a sickening pop as it crushed the appendage, pain shooting through her arm and all over her body.
Maria gasped and quickly covered her mouth with her other hand, pulling her injured appendage back to her after Murdoc stumbled off of it. Wondering what he had stepped on, the dark-haired man looked down at the old crib he was standing near, seeing nothing on the floor around it. Maria shut her teary eyes tightly, preparing herself when Murdoc would inspect her hiding spot.
Just as he was about to peer under the bed, the sound of frantic and hurried footsteps scurried by the closed door to his right. No longer interested in investigating, Murdoc took out his revolver before heading to the exit. Hardly believing her luck, Maria's tense body relaxed somewhat, able to tend to her broken hand.
Murdoc, now in the doorway, surveyed the hallway that ran along the room he was in, searching for the one who had created the sounds he heard. He did not have to look far; he spotted Imogene running some distance away. With a grin, the madman readied his gun and gave chase.
A single gunshot alerted Imogene of Murdoc's presence, and she instantly picked up her pace. However, the psychotic caretaker was on her tail in hardly a minute, shooting wildly at her. Each shot missed their mark, but it frightened Imogene all the same.
She darted down the hallway and made an abrupt turn, though she immediately regretted doing so. The corridor came to a dead end some distance down, mocking the American for making her choice. Dreading what was to come, Imogene slowly turned around to face her pursuer.
Standing at the hallway entrance was Murdoc, grinning, holding up his gun as he calmly loaded it. He began his approach as Imogene backed away, relishing in the look of absolute terror on her face. It was not long until the teenager's back pressed against the wall, her entire form trembling.
"End of the line," taunted the madman, snapping the fully loaded cylinder closed before pointing his weapon at her. Imogene said nothing in reply, her focus completely on the silver revolver aimed for the kill. Undaunted, Murdoc continued. "Cornered like the rat you are."
"W-wait! Please! Don't shoot me!" pleaded Imogene, her hands held up in surrender. Her mind scrambled to find some way to get out of her grim ordeal, to disarm the horrid caretaker before her. Eventually, she thought back to when he and Evelyn had come to their subterranean prison. She understood that the older girl was Murdoc's weakness, though she had no idea why. Regardless, Imogene had no other options.
"And why should I spare you? You have nothing to offer me," stated Murdoc coldly, moving in closer. By this time, the brunette's fear had dwindled somewhat, her mind set on her mission.
"Boy, what would Evelyn think of this? How you're behaving?" she boldly said, her voice shaking in nervousness. As she had hoped, the phony caretaker stopped his approach, looking slightly baffled at her statement. As soon as it had appeared, his confused look changed back into a menacing glare.
"Who cares what Evelyn thinks? She already thinks you're dead," Murdoc, having lowered his weapon before, aimed it back at Imogene with a small smirk. "I'm just making that assumption a reality."
"But wait! I can help you! I-I saw something, and I'm sure you'll wanna hear about it!"
Annoyed, Murdoc lowered his revolver once again. "Speak then, bitch! I don't have all night to toy with you!"
"It's Evelyn! I saw her leaving with that redhead after she freed her," lied the brunette, fidgeting where she stood. She watched Murdoc's expressions shift at her tall tale, a flash of anger, confusion, and panic. When he did not speak, Imogene, uncertain, kept on. "I caught a glimpse of it, but I wanted to find Karen, so…"
"I'll let you slide this one time," began the caretaker after some consideration, drawing dangerously close to Imogene. The nozzle of his gun pressed deep into the teenager's chest, the metal barrel leaving a throbbing pain in the affected area. She willed herself to ignore it, managing to keep eye contact with Murdoc as he continued. "But if I catch you again, there will be no escape for you."
His threat issued, Murdoc quickly turned and stormed down the short hall, leaving a frightened, but relieved Imogene behind. As he made his way toward the room he had locked Evelyn away in, his thoughts ran rampant in his fractured mind. The possibility of Imogene lying to him made itself known, but an even stronger feeling of uncertainty overruled all logic. He had to see if Imogene was wrong. He had to know, at all costs.
. . .
Gwen silently waltzed down one of the countless dark corridors that exist in the mansion she and the other girls were trapped in, wringing her hands nervously, not knowing where to go. She replayed what Stuart had told her over and over again, trying to figure out the riddle's meaning.
Smashing grapes… You usually find grapes in a kitchen, so I'll check there, said the redhead to herself, slight relief in her features at having found some sort of direction. She had a vague idea of where she was in the mansion, and was not too far away from the kitchen.
Silence was her only company as she traveled carefully down the winding passageways, keeping a sharp eye out for Murdoc or Stuart, especially the former. Down the grand staircase, sneaking through empty hallways, and hurrying through foyers, Gwen finally located the large kitchen in which she was searching.
It was just as empty as the rest of the mansion, save a few cooking devices and a refrigerator. This gave Gwen hope, as she could have arrived at the right place first. But it also filled her with dread, knowing that she could have chosen the wrong room.
Shit… I bet this is the wrong place. I hate riddles! she cried out in her mind, glaring at nothing in particular as she searched the kitchen for any further clues. When she went toward the storage area, her foot caught on something and she tripped, landing on her hands and knees.
"Damn it!" Gwen swore before getting up and inspecting what she had stumbled over, squinting her eyes so that she could see in the darkness.
From what she saw, it appeared to be a handle. Curious at the sight, Gwen reached out a hand and pulled on it. With hardly any effort at all, a ground door opened with a piercing squeak of its hinges. It was much too dark to see what was down below, much darker than the kitchen itself. All instincts were telling her to turn back and flee, but Gwen did not have much of a choice in the matter.
"Eve? Are you down here?" called the unnerved redhead, slowly and carefully making her way down a long flight of rickety wooden stairs. She held out a hand along the wall to her left, feeling for a light switch. She found no such thing. "Eve!"
Out of nowhere, light filled her vision with a sudden flash, momentarily blinding Gwen. When she was able to see again, it became apparent that she had stumbled upon a wine cellar. It was empty, as far as she could tell.
Cautious still, Gwen took a few more steps down, her eyes locked onto the room's interior to get a better look. A sudden thud and the shaking of old wood stopped the preteen instantly, daring a look behind her.
Stuart stood a few steps above her, grinning widely. Gwen gasped, turning around completely to face him. He did not appear to have his shears with him, using both hands to grab onto the sides of the square-shaped exit, rocking back and forth with a small giggle.
"Aww, looks like you won," he said jovially, stopping his swaying to take in Gwen's terrified expression. Whether the meaning of that look registered in his mind is not certain.
The redhead was in a panic. Her only escape route was now blocked off by the odd boy, and she had walked right into his trap. Eerie solid white eyes remained on her as Gwen backed down the stairs and into the cellar, following her every move with unhidden fascination. He soon followed, though he remained on the stairs as he spoke again.
"Since you won, I'll show you where Evelyn is." Before Gwen could react, Stuart's large, bony hand reached out and grabbed hold of Gwen's arm. She struggled in his grip, but it was to no avail as the Scissorman guided her deeper into the cold, dank cellar.
Countless barrels filled with wine dotted the underground room, some of them almost as tall as Gwen. The redhead had stopped her resistance by this time, realizing there was no escaping his tight hold on her. It was not long until they came upon a single barrel, located against the wall all by itself. Perplexed, Gwen looked up at Stuart for some sort of explanation. Still grinning wide, he happily gave it.
"There she is. Go on, have a look."
Horror now mixing with her confusion, Gwen stared long and hard at the barrel after she was released. If Evelyn was inside, she knew what that would imply. Shaking her head in refusal, the redhead took a few steps back, only to be pushed forward again by an eager Stuart.
Now in front of the wooden wine container, Gwen regarded it with frightened eyes. However, a small hint of curiosity made itself known to her soon after. Reaching out a shaky hand, Gwen went to open the barrel. It hovered over the cork for a moment, before her curiosity was snuffed out by her ever-growing fear, snapping her hand back with watering eyes.
"Oh that's right. Sorry. Don't want ya to get splinters. Here," said the apparently oblivious Scissorman before he leaned forward and turned the whole lid. Gwen cried out for him not to, but it was much too late. The top was lifted off with ease, exposing the barrel's contents.
Blood and wine spilled over the sides, the liquid disrupted when the top was removed. Gwen, horrified, backed away. Feeling that the redhead had not seen enough, Stuart kicked the barrel over with one of his long, slender legs.
A tidal wave of wine and gore poured out from the overturned container, covering a large radius where the barrel fell. The most gruesome sight, however, came from the headless body that had been stuffed inside. Even without a head and stained red with wine, it was easy to see that the corpse had been a teenaged girl.
Gwen cried, screamed, and wailed at the sight, dropping to her knees in the bloody puddle. She shouted Evelyn's name over and over, convinced that the Scissorman had murdered her best friend. As her cries began to slowly die down, Stuart, his grin faltering a bit, spoke up once again.
"I'm just kidding," he began, putting on a hesitant smile. "It's only Lisa."
Stuart's confession did little to ease Gwen's fright, regarding him with both terror and disgust. She stood, the red liquid on her knees dripping down her legs, and ran. She did not look back, even when Stuart called out to her, demanding her to come back in an out of place whimsical tone.
Gwen, of course, did not dare to comply to the killer's request, and continued to flee.
