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Chapter Twenty Nine
Evelyn hung her head in hopelessness as she paced her chamber of confinement, not knowing what to do with herself. She wondered why the psychotic caretaker kept leaving her to tend to some unsaid matter. If there were only her, him, and his scissor-wielding lackey, what reason would he need to keep leaving?
Unless there's someone out there still alive? Evelyn asked herself, a small spark of hope lighting up in her mind. She wanted to hold onto this feeling; she needed a reason to keep going on. Perhaps that was why she had been fighting back against the man who raped her all this time.
"If only I could find a way out…" she said aloud as she continued to pace the room, her mind racing with countless thoughts and feelings. No matter how many ideas she came up with, Evelyn could not think of a single one that would work. On the breaking point, the teary-eyed teenager leaned all her weight onto a nearby bookshelf.
Evelyn was startled back into standing when the shelf gave a sudden jerk forward. Looking back at it, she could just barely see what appeared to be a trap door beneath the bookcase. With newfound vigor, the teenager pushed on the shelf with all her might. Eventually, the heavy wooden item revealed the door completely, a look of shock and hope all too visible in her features.
Finally… a chance! Wasting no time, Evelyn pulled the door open, letting it drop to the other side with a loud snap. A stairway leading down into a blanket of pitch darkness was seen, the sight hardly scaring the teen as she quickly stepped down into it. If anything, this dark tunnel gave her the hope she needed.
"Come and get me now, Murdoc. You despicable lowlife."
. . .
There was no sense of direction as Karen wandered aimlessly through the winding hallways and darkened foyers, searching for the other girls so that they could get away from the crazed man they once called a caretaker. Unable to hear sounds, the teenager was on high alert with every step she took, looking out for any possible threat.
Menacing shadows from the tree branches outside danced across the main foyer, moving from the storm's blustering winds. Karen stopped and watched, mesmerized by the swaying, soon snapping out of it. As her mind began to focus, she could spot the shadow of something vastly different than a tree branch. It steadily grew in size as whoever was creating it came closer, the form becoming more and more humanlike. Karen stood where she was, wondering if the one approaching was one of the girls.
But once the owner of the shadow limped into view, the deaf teen instantly saw that was not the case and ducked behind a recliner. Each step the unknown person took was uneven, not that Karen could hear the difference. Fearful curiosity soon consuming her, the teenager dared to take a peek from behind her hiding spot.
It was Stuart she saw, dragging along his bloodied blades and mumbling to himself, which Karen could not make out. He stopped walking for a moment, appearing to inspect the foyer. This signaled to the frightened Karen to retreat back to her hiding place, trying to steady her heavy breathing. From the dim light pouring in from outside, she could see the Scissorman's tall shadow. In a strange turn of events, Karen also spotted Russel hiding nearby, looking right at her.
The teenager could not be sure if she should panic or celebrate.
Russel watched Karen from afar, but also listened to what Stuart was saying. The troubled boy was mimicking Murdoc's voice almost flawlessly, coupled with a low, younger sounding voice that the gardener assumed was the Scissorman's own. Eyes widen in horror at what was said.
"Stuart, come and give Uncle Murdy a nice massage," spoke the Scissorman in Murdoc's voice as he set his shears against a coffee table. He got on his hands and knees, almost seeming to ignore what he was saying, as he peered underneath the table in search of something.
Then, his demeanor changed, sobs racking his entire thin frame. His voice took on that same small tone from before. "No, no no no… Please."
"That's right, give Uncle Murdoc wot he wants." He spoke in Murdoc's voice again; Stuart had wandered throughout the foyer, searching, yet not really doing so. It was as if his mind and body were in a conflict with each other.
Russel held a shocked expression at what he was hearing, stunned and appalled at what was said. It was apparent to the gardener that this boy knew Murdoc, but to hear him recite something like this…
Seemingly done reciting a past experience, Stuart retrieved his shears and limped out of the foyer. Both Russel and Karen breathed long sighs of relief, and came out from their hiding places.
"That sure was a close call," stated the gardener in a low, soft murmur as he approached Karen. She watched him closely, reading his lip movements. At that point she realized that Russel was not aware of her condition, and spoke to him in sign language. The gardener gave a low groan at this discovery, not knowing a lick of the visual language. It would be difficult to communicate, but Russel felt that they could make it work. Carefully and quietly, the two made their way across the foyer and through a door, the same one the Scissorman had entered through.
One girl is better than none. I wonder if the others are still… The gardener's thoughts trailed off as a sense of dread suddenly came over him. He knew it was more than likely the truth, but he could not bear to face it.
. . .
Gwen had not stopped running since fleeing the cellar, her lungs burning, tears stinging her eyes. She never dared to look back, only to the hallways ahead as she bolted through them. There was no way out, she knew this, but the more distance she can put between her and the Scissorman, the better.
In her frantic dash to get away, Gwen turned a sharp corner and collided into someone. The preteen fell back from the recoil, momentarily dazed. The one she hit had stumbled back as well, taking a moment to recover and determine who had run into them. Once seeing the redhead, the other grew tense.
"Gwen?! What the hell are you doin'?" It was Imogene, appearing tired and frustrated. Her twin braids were unkempt and frizzy; bags were clearly seen under her eyes. Even in the poor lighting Gwen could see this, cringing slightly at having angered her.
"I-I was running from… the Scissorman," answered the redhead breathlessly, quickly getting to her feet. As if remembering her situation, Gwen tensed up again and continued. "The Scissorman! We need to hide! He's coming!"
"Oh please, yer still on that? If you focused on finding a way out of here…"
"No! He's not made up!" Gwen felt tears in her eyes before she spoke again. "He got Lisa…"
"No more of this. I'm finding Karen and getting the hell out of here," said the American as she began walking away. Instantly overcome with grim desperation, Summers took a few steps after her, nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt.
"Um… Look, I…" she began, quickly losing her nerve when Imogene turned and gave her an intense glare, hardened by all the events she bore witness to. After swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she hesitantly continued. "Please, can I come with you? We shouldn't be alone, what if he…"
"Can it, Gwen. Whatever yer tryin' to pull won't work on me," spat Imogene with a sneer. Seeing the pitiful look on the redhead's face made her roll her eyes, a short sigh following. "You c'n come. But only if you leave me alone, and admit that this… Scissorman fella ain't real."
"But, Imogene! He's…" Gwen's words left her mind at the American's leering stare, sputtering a bit before falling silent. She did not want to deny what she knew to be true, but if she did not, she would be alone again. The preteen's shoulders slumped in defeat, her eyes trailing to the floor and staying there. "He's not real. I just… made him up to scare you all."
"That's more like it. Now come on, let's keep moving." Seemingly convinced by Gwen's supposed confession, Imogene started off again, whispering to herself. Gwen, a solemn look on her face, soon followed her. Noticing her, Imogene raised her voice again when she continued. "Now, you said you saw Lisa? Where at?"
"… the cellar," answered the redhead.
"What about the others? Have you seen Karen?"
"No. I haven't met up with anyone except…" Gwen paused for a moment. "Except for you."
"Damn. Where could that girl have gone? With that crazy Niccals fella runnin' around…" Imogene trailed off at that, thinking back to when the phony caretaker locked them all up in the basement. She gave an involuntary shiver at the memory, what he had said, how he had looked. After regaining her composure, the brunette spoke again, her eyes wide. "I have to find her. I can't let that man hurt her!"
"Imogene, it's obvious we need to find everyone, but finding a way out should be first on the list!" Gwen understood Imogene's sentiments, wanting to locate Evelyn, but if they wasted their time looking for them, she felt, they ran the risk of being caught as well.
"I'm not leaving without her, so you can just shut yer yap about that," Imogene snapped back, whipping her head around to leer down at Gwen once again. The redhead shied away a bit at the harsh response, but continued to walk alongside her only companion as they traveled down the hall.
Gwen did not know what the cause of Imogene's sudden change in behavior was, but it greatly worried her. She figured that perhaps when they find Karen and get out, that her attitude would return to the way it was. Until then, she would have to endure her criticisms and sharp words.
They eventually came upon a small overhang that led to one of the many foyers of the mansion, the short flight of stairs connecting the two stretching out before them. Gwen took a few steps ahead of Imogene, not noticing that she had come to a stop at first. After not sensing the brunette's presence, Gwen stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to face her.
"Imogene? What's wrong?"
Imogene stood almost stone still where she had stopped, her dark blue eyes staring off to something that Gwen could not locate. She could see the redhead before her, a muffled voice calling her name. But at the same time, Imogene saw and heard other things as well, dark shadows shaped like people, hushed voices whispering to her.
"They never cared."
"They're turning Karen against you."
"Kill the redhead, before she kills you."
The American had been hearing these wispy voices ever since she had split with Karen, their influence slowly wearing down her mental stability. They seemed to get louder with each passing minute, and with every whisper her agony only increased. As the seconds passed, those damning accusations and assumptions were beginning to sound all the more convincing to her. Why would the voices lie?
"Hey! Imogene!"
Finally hearing Gwen, Imogene snapped her gaze down to the preteen. She held an expression of worry and confusion, yet it still filled the brunette with boiling anger. Gwen saw this change in demeanor, but did not show it when she decided to try speaking to her again.
"Are… are you okay? You kinda zoned out for a bit…"
"Shut up," said Imogene in a low tone, her voice dripping with venom. Her response surprised Gwen, the redhead sputtering to say something back, but could come up with nothing. Undaunted, Imogene continued. "You horrible, sneaky little brat. Everyone just loves you, don't they?"
"What are you talking about…?" Gwen backed away from the American in horror, unable to understand why Imogene's mood suddenly shifted. She stopped her retreat when she felt the back of her foot step off the edge of the top step, though she managed to keep her eyes trained on the brunette.
"You're not special, no matter how much Evelyn tells that to you. The bitch can rot in hell, not even acknowledgin' our presence in that damn basement," continued Imogene bitterly, storming over to Gwen as she spoke. The redhead, stunned, stood rooted to the spot. "And another thing, why are you and Karen suddenly all buddy-buddy? I thought you were Evelyn's friend, not Karen's.
"Is that how you work? Get close to people, then move on to the next one? Was it you who killed Rosie? Got tired of her?" Imogene's onslaught of accusations brought tears to Gwen's eyes, though they were largely ignored by Imogene as she carried on. "Rosie, Paula, Evelyn… Yer not gonna get me. Yer not gonna get me!"
Hardly thinking through her actions, Imogene gave Gwen a single, hard shove. Easily losing her balance, Gwen fell back and tumbled down the stairs. She landed at the bottom in a crumpled heap, falling deathly still.
Imogene, her expression blank, stared down at the unmoving preteen from the top of the stairs, her breathing deep and labored. A swarm of emotions washed over her in a cold wave of anxiety, regret, and relief, serving only to confuse the distraught teenager further. She's gone… Isn't she?
Imogene flinched when a sharp pain shot through her head, gritting her teeth as she brought a hand up to it. Seconds later, the whispered voices returned, their words jumbled and inaudible at first, but slowly growing in volume with each passing second. Stumbling back, Imogene's eyes widened as her mind sorted out each word that was being said.
Traitor. Deserter. Backstabber. Killer.
Those same words repeated themselves endlessly in her mind, as if it were a record stuck in a constant loop. Unable to stand it any longer, the brunette clamped her hands on the sides of her head with a low groan, squeezing her eyes shut.
A single thud alerted Imogene of someone standing behind her. Lowering her hands, she slowly glanced over her shoulder to get a look at who it was. The teen was struck dumbfounded when her eyes spotted the tall, lanky form of Stuart glaring back at her.
