Just Misunderstood
By: TheSilverHyena
Warning:: Contains Mature/Adult Content, Violence and Gore, and Adult Language. If you cannot HANLDE these sorts of things, you might want to go elsewhere. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Chapter 8: The Best Laid Plans...
Although Blake had wanted to forgive Thomas for what he had done to her, she hadn't been able to fully do so. The trust that had been there was shattered and not easily repaired. The wound was too fresh and Blake would need time to heal, a luxury she knew was severely limited. Blake became even more shy and withdrawn then she could remember ever being, yet the spark of hope still kindled in those mismatched eyes of hers. She just had to be extremely careful as not to give away to her captors that she had psychic abilities. God only knew what would happen, especially since it may not have just been her life on the line.
'No, no, no... don't loose it, Blake. I-it can't have happened... you're not ready to be a mother...' Blake told herself, letting a single tear roll down her cheek, 'Especially NOT for the likes of these backwoods boneheads!'
Perhaps one day, in an ideal world, once she finished with school and secured a steady job, Blake could have seen herself introducing a nice young man to her father. Of going out on dates, meeting "the one", getting married and starting her own family, growing old with the people and animals she loved.
But reality has a way of dealing good people a bad hand in life. Blake never got to finish school. She was forced to abandon her home and her job at the grill where her father worked. Never even experienced having a boyfriend or crush, as any guy she might have initially liked and tried to get to know just turned out to be a creep that wanted to "fuck the weird girl" because they were dared to do so by their friends. (Only problem was that they were afraid of her dogs or her dad.) Then her late mother's legacy of cruelty came back to haunt her, driving her right into the horrific nightmare she was living at this very second. No loving father to look after her and no real home. Just this house of horrors and the family that dwell in it.
Thomas meanwhile, often spent his days hidden away in either the basement or out in the barn, chopping and gutting the "catch of the day." Hoyt liked taking verbal potshots at Blake every time the opportunity presented itself, even if Luda Mae or Monty were around. (Just never when he knew Thomas was in earshot, however, as he had taken notice of his enormous nephew's change in temperament when the girl was involved.)
Whenever Thomas wanted to give Blake affection, the girl let him, if only because she was afraid that by completely rejecting him at every turn could potentially end badly for her and damage him even more. However, she didn't participate much either. Maybe a look and a few kind, polite, albeit forced words. While this still may have hurt Thomas, it lead him to think back on her earlier words and he was constantly trying to puzzle out ways to make her feel better. At least he was rewarded with a bit of a smile the day he snuck Jason and Toby into their room to visit with Blake. (And even a bit of a laugh when Hoyt decided to barge in and the two German Shepherds lunged for him.) Though once Luda Mae found out, Thomas got himself a good scolding from his mother and was forced to put the dogs back out in the barn. (But it was worth it!)
About a week later, as Blake was getting ready for bed, she could hear Hoyt speaking to Thomas in his usual brash voice,
"Ya go in and git her now, boy. Haha!"
When Thomas shuffled his way through the door and closed and locked it behind him, Blake felt her blood run cold and all breath left her lungs. She could tell what he wanted, smell it even, the distinct aroma of an aroused male. But there was no way she could take it, not again. Had he learned nothing? Or could it be that perhaps he was under the pressure of his overbearing mother and devious uncle?
"P-please... no... don't make me go... go t-through this again, please, Thomas, don't." Blake pleaded, unable to stop the stream of tears from sliding down her cheeks, "I... I'm begging you!"
Thomas didn't even let her put on her nightgown. He had scooped her up in his arms and laid the girl down on the bed, his thoughts rapid and pulsing through Blake's mind. An idea came to Thomas, maybe if Hoyt wasn't there she'd be more comfortable. He'd be even gentler with her, if that was possible for the likes of him. Blake rolled onto her side, curling in on herself and tried to cover up, only for Thomas to uncover her again before removing his shirt. She trembled fearfully, sobbing softly while muttering incoherent words.
'Why pretty Blake scared? Thomas never hurt pretty Blake.' Grunted Thomas, within his mind.
He carefully removed her panties and tossed them aside, then rolled the girl onto her back and used his knee to force her to spread her legs for him. By now, Blake was hyperventilating, gazing back up to Thomas in abject terror. The pain. Humiliation. Helplessness. And so soon.
'No, no, no, please God, no...please don't let it happen again, not again, not again... stop, stop, stop!' her frantic mind screamed, ringing over and over again in her inner ear.
The mountain of a man was just about to undo his pants when he abruptly stopped. Although it was only a moment, it felt like hours as he gazed hard and long at the naked, defenseless girl laying helplessly beneath him, completely as his mercy. Thomas could have done anything he pleased with her, yet instead of taking her in spite of Blake's protests, the giant withdrew his advance and got off of her. A low whimpering moan escaped his throat as he ran his large fingers down Blake's cheek, wiping away her tears.
'Thomas... love Blake. Such pretty, nice girl. Don't cry. Keep Blake safe.'
He tucked her under the blankets and snuggled up beside her, resting his enormous hand on her belly. As much as he enjoyed the feeling of being intimate with her, Thomas didn't want to repeat the same mistakes he made last time. There must have been something that he missed, something Hoyt failed to teach him, and he was determined to figure out what it was. Perhaps when Blake was truly ready, she would let him know in her own way. In the meantime, Hoyt wasn't there to tell him what to do.
Blake let out a bit of a squeak, feeling as Thomas not only adjusted himself to hold onto her, but also the hardened bulge in his pants against her backside. It took every ounce of self control not to buck and squirm in a mad panic, since he had done what she wanted. The girl forced herself to remain calm, though her breath still came out in short pants and her eyes were wide awake even after Thomas' grunting snores filled the room, signaling that he had already fallen asleep.
"He... he listened to me..." Blake whispered to herself, craning her neck to glance over her shoulder at the sleeping giant, "Thomas could have taken me again, b-but he didn't..."
But, would it last? Would Thomas listen to her pleas again or would his drive to put his seed inside of her be too strong? Blake knew she got lucky this time. Then again, although Thomas may not have even understood the concept of love, it was obvious that his care and devotion to his chosen mate was genuine. And that quite honestly, scared Blake more then anything else about him!
"Thank you... Thomas... thank you."
With great difficulty, the girl finally fell into a fitful and uneasy sleep.
*The Next Day*
Blake and Thomas both ended up sleeping in, well until the mid morning hours. After calling that it was breakfast three times, Luda Mae finally sent Hoyt upstairs to check on them. While the false sheriff grumbled, he thought that this might be a sneaky way to learn about the details of what those two did last night. After all, he had made sure that his nephew was excited and raring to dive right in.
A sudden pounding and following shout quickly roused both Blake and Thomas from their sleep,
"Whatcha two doin' in there? Chores ain't gonna do themselves!"
There was the familiar click of the old door lock and in strode Hoyt as though he owned the damn place. A sinister grin crossed his face, looking at the two of them in bed together, furthermore the shed clothes littering the floor.
"Oh... I see what's goin' on here... you wear yerself out with her, boy? Getcha some nice, slick pussy all night long?" he snickered, paying particular attention to Blake.
There was no hiding the fear in Blake's eyes. Thomas wanted to, but he didn't do anything with her last night except tuck her in and cuddle up to her as they slept. Normally, had Thomas not done what was asked of him by any of the senior members of the family, he'd lower his gaze, hang his head in shame, or give some other 'guilty' and 'submissive' tell. But instead, Thomas kept his deep, hidden brown eyes locked on his uncle's and nodded with a firm grunt. Growling possessively, he pulled Blake closer to him as he sat up, causing the girl to let out a startled squeak. While he nuzzled against her neck and inhaled her scent, the girl relaxed in his arms and took in deep, calming breaths.
"Dawwwww... well lookie there! Mamma will be happy to hear you two is getting' it on, tryin' yer hardest," Hoyt stated, sounding quite pleased, "And you, lil' darlin'... this is a much better look fer ya. Nice and docile, as any good house woman ought to be." he added, towards Blake, "Butcha both better git on downstairs now, breakfast is getting' cold. Gotta eat. Especially you, if my nephew keeps up like this, he'll have ya pregnant within the week, I'll bet!"
Blake wanted to scream at Hoyt, tell him to go fuck himself. (Something, much to her shame, was very unlike her to wish on anyone.) She wanted to do something far worse then just give him a black eye and a sore nose. But Blake refrained. The girl knew that she needed Hoyt to still believe that her spirit was broken. So instead, she kept her mismatched gaze lowered and simply nodded.
'Hehe... I knew that would settle her down. Literally pound the fight outta her.' she heard, coursing through the false sheriff's mind.
"See there, Tommy? That's much better, ain't it?" Hoyt asked, as the massive brute moved from the bed and picked up his shirt off the floor, "You must've really wore her out! Hehe! Tell ya what, boy, all girls got three holes that can be used to bring a man pleasure. I'll teach ya how to use all of them, just in case ya wear one of em out!"
He playfully jabbed the much larger male in the ribs with his elbow as they turned to leave. Blake meanwhile, was somewhat stunned. No, not just from the crude, objectifying things that spewed from Hoyt's mouth like toxic waste, but the fact that... Thomas not only ignored his arousal and put Blake's needs before his own, he also flat out lied to his uncle to protect her.
'Thank you, Thomas...' Blake's mind whispered, with relief.
With a confused grunt, Thomas looked around, having sworn he heard her voice coming from right behind him, whispering in his ear softly. But... she was still right on the bed where he left her. He cast Blake an inquisitive look, trying to figure out what he had just heard or if it was perhaps just his imagination. Regardless of what it was, he could see the small, albeit shy smile on the girl's face.
"Come on boy, while we're still young. You'll have plenty of time to play with her tonight." Hoyt called, snapping the brute from his thoughts.
Once she was alone, Blake got out of bed and gave her body a good stretch. That was twice she lucked out, big time. But now... not only could she hear Thomas' thoughts, she may have just sent him one of hers. Blake knew that she could send her thoughts to animals and even spirits, but she hadn't done it with a living human before. This was a first for her. But... this also meant that she'd have to be extra careful. If she didn't know what or how exactly she did it, the last thing Blake wanted was to accidentally transmit her escape plans to Hoyt or Luda Mae.
"Just... do what they want, don't give anything away, let them believe what they want to believe." Blake told herself, "You've got an upper hand they know nothing about!"
*Later that Day, Late Afternoon*
Already the house chores were done, Hoyt and Thomas were still "out hunting", and Blake was taking advantage of the rare times she had in this house when she was not only unwatched, but given free reign of leisure time until it was time to help with the dinner prep. Of course, the dumb chains were hardly ever removed, just padded to prevent self inflicted injury and chafing. Still, the girl took advantage of this precious gift.
Throughout her time there, Blake had managed to smuggle a few things into her room and hide them. Small things no one would really know were missing or care about. The odd fork here, string, thread, strips of cloth and bits of leather and wire, a sewing needle, and an old padlock, even sticks she'd gathered from outside. (Though she was still holding out for a cellphone or any sort of communication device. Easier said then done, as Hoyt tended to destroy those sorts of things quickly. Using the metal on the bed frame like a sculpting tool, Blake managed to create several makeshift wooden stakes, fashioning wickedly sharp points on the sticks. The fork and wire, she had been working on bending those into shape and practiced picking the old padlock that she found over and over again. Her inexperience really showed, and the girl didn't want any obvious marks showing up on her bindings right yet, as they were inspected often. Slowly but surely, Blake was beginning to puzzle it out. It only took twenty minutes to get the old lock open with minimal scratches left on the metal! Every so often, a slight, dull throb would start up in her head and her ears would be filled with what could be described as white noise. Perhaps... the dead trying to reach her?
'Strange... t-that happens sometimes... w-when I'm around Toby and Jason.' Blake muttered to herself.
Speaking of which, perhaps later tonight she'd be allowed to see her dogs again. Monty wasn't exactly fit to make sure there were no escape attempts and Luda Mae didn't like going out there. (The old bat wouldn't admit it, but Toby and Jason frightened her.) So for the time being, Blake busied herself practicing her fighting stances, though it was trickier with that chain dragging behind her. The sketchbook and pencils were laid out on the bed and she paused every few minutes, just in case she heard the footsteps of some nosy busybody coming up the stairs to check on her. Always good to have a cover story at the ready!
'Ugh... I hate this... stupid... chain...? Hmmmm... I wonder.'
Upon reaching a bit of an epiphany, Blake coiled up the slack in her chain around her fist, very much like what that Soldier of Eternal Damnation had done when he struck her in the head. While crude, it was like a set of brass knuckles. If she was stuck with the stupid thing, (for now), why not learn how to use it?
"Hmmm, what would Jason do? ...Or Lisa, for that matter?" she wondered aloud to herself, with a smile.
For about an hour, Blake practiced, mixing her usual preferred martial art attack, kicking, then followed up with quick, precise jabs against her invisible foes. Not many ever suspected the frail, often sickly girl of knowing how to fight, though she still needed rest often, as the heat of the day wasn't agreeing with her. While taking a break and getting some water from the faucet of her little private bathroom, Blake heard the distinct sound of the police cruiser rolling up the dirt driveway. Slowly, she crept to the door of her room, opening it just enough so that she could better hear what was going on downstairs. Hoyt was already inside, bragging about the "catch of the day."
"Whohoo! You shoulda seen them, Mamma! Them two pretty boys was kissin', can ya believe that? KISSIN', suckin' face while waitin' fer us down at the station! God Damn, what's this world commin' too? Tommy and I'll deal with them fags out in the barn."
"Hoyt! Language, you ought to know better then ta use the Lord's name in vain." Luda Mae scolded.
With a heavy sigh, Blake quietly closed the door, though she was still able to hear muffled voices below her. Yes, taking the Good Lord's name in Vain, because that's the worst thing that they were doing right now. What about the brutal murders? Kidnapping? Rape? Torture? ….nothing about that, hmmm? Come to think of it, they even said grace before meal times.
Blake took a glance out her window, catching the familiar, gigantic form of Thomas striding down the worn path of trodden dry grass that led to the barn, dragging two male bodies behind him with one hand while the other had his trusty chainsaw hefted over his shoulder. The two men were badly beaten, barely alive, and had already surrendered themselves to the mercy of their captor. Seeing this, Blake closed her eyes and concentrated her thoughts on Thomas.
'T-Thomas... p-please, don't h-h-hurt them anymore. They've d-done nothing wrong.' she pleaded.
When her mismatched eyes blinked open, Blake saw the giant looking to his sides and behind him, as though he expected to find the girl right outside with him, somewhere. Then his gaze tilted upward, catching sight of Blake looking at him from the window.
'Pretty Blake upstairs. Safe. How did Pretty Blake speak now?' Thomas' gravely voice faintly echoed in Blake's head.
He must have stood there for a solid five minutes, just staring at the girl, wondering how she had done that. It certainly didn't feel like his imagination. Though before Thomas could puzzle it out, Hoyt came strutting around the bend, waving his arms around and began yelling. Possibly the only reason Blake was able to actually hear him was because of his raised voice.
"Hurry up boy, git that meat to the barn already! I gotta go stash the car fer the night! Chop, chop, Tommy!"
Slowly, Thomas nodded obediently, though he cast one last look up at Blake. The girl shook her head 'no', silently pleading with him to let the captives go.
'Why does Pretty Blake cry for them? Beg for them? Not understand. Bad, cruel, people. They would hurt Pretty Blake.'
As Thomas walked off, Blake had to lean against the wall as a sudden drain of energy hit her out of no where. After not being able to properly use her abilities for such a prolonged period, it took quite a bit out of her to project more complex thoughts towards him. Sighing in defeat, Blake laid down on the bed, picking up her sketchbook and pencil. What could she even do for those poor saps? Thomas seemed to think that he was protecting her, defending his family. It was just another firm reminder that while he may have been tender and gentle with her, he was still a monster.
Blake flipped through the pages of her sketchbook, stopping to look at the portrait of the first man she actually saw Thomas murder. On the next, the teenage couple she had tried to set free. It was a project that she had started. Trying to remember these people, most of whom she didn't even know so much as their names, as humans rather then chopped and ground up chunks of meat. Perhaps in due time, they could be used to help the police identify victims so that they could be given a proper burial of sorts. Turning to a blank sheet, Blake began drawing, intending to preserve those two men she saw being hauled to their deaths in graphite.
"I'm sorry this happened to you two..."
*Lurking around, on the Highway*
Meanwhile, unknown to the Hewitt family, a rival to their evil pulled over along the side of the road, concealing the dark red SUV he was driving behind some trees and bushes. Darius Gordon grinned to himself. He had been scouting out this stretch of road for the longest time, growing increasingly bored as nothing peaked his interest, save for that old, abandoned slaughterhouse a few miles back. Might be a great place to set up their new coven. A growl escaped his throat as Darius pulled out his phone to discover that his battery was almost dead. However, after days of hardly any activity, the tattooed man just couldn't resist the urge to check out the old farmhouse he spotted from the road.
"Looks like a good place to leave the Honored Mother's Mark." he hissed to himself.
Darius tended to get a sick joy from breaking and entering, loving the feeling of making people feel defenseless and helpless in their own homes. He took out a handgun from the glove compartment, concealing it in the waistband of his jeans, and made sure that his electric prod was ready to go. Given the choice, Darius always chose the prod over the gun. A bullet was too easy and quick. But as his Grandfather always told him, 'there ain't nothin' like watchin' a little bitch layin' in the dirt, unable ta move. Unable ta scream. Just twitch and beggin' with their eyes as tears wet the ground. Always let em rest in between jabs, makes the pain last longer!'
"Worth a peak at any rate."
While he still wore his sigil ring, Darius had put on regular street clothes, a plain green t-shirt and blue jeans. He didn't want to give away his occult status by wearing his black robes... that and it was still bloody hot outside! After tying a dark red and green striped bandana over his nose and mouth, the cultist made sure he had all of his weapons and gear, then closed up his vehicle and took off, doing a quick look around the front of the property. A dilapidated mailbox near the dirt driveway tilted slightly to one side with the letters "Hewitt" perched on top. It was desolate and unnervingly quiet. No one around for miles. No one to hear anyone scream!
Darius slunk up the length of the front yard, making it to the porch. He could hear some dogs barking in the distance, but he paid them no mind. Ascending the steps, the cultist took a look through the nearest window, taking notice of the old-style living room and a legless man in the wheelchair dozing in front of an ancient TV set. There weren't any cars parked out front, leading him to wonder if perhaps that old man was the only one at home, or if any vehicles had simply been stashed somewhere.
The sneaky cultist decided to circle around the property, keeping close to any windows as not to be seen by anyone else that may have still been inside. Eventually, Darius found his way to the barn, which was not only where the dog barks were coming from, but he could hear one man talking and another responding with low, animalistic grunts. Intrigued, he crept forward, crouching down where he found a gap in the building that he could see through.
From what Darius could spy, there was a man wearing a tan sheriff's uniform standing beside an absolute beast of a man wearing old, tattered clothes and heavy leather apron. When the titan turned his shaggy head, a thick muzzle-like mask could be seen covering half of his face. Their backs were to Darius and neither one was unaware of their spectator at the moment. Hanging in front of the odd pair, suspended on meat hooks puncturing their flesh were two bodies, one still alive and squirming in terror while the other was quite dead and had his skin partially flayed off and an arm and a leg had been removed. Thick, viscus blood steadily dripped to the floor while the giant butchered the dead male and the man in the sheriff's uniform tormented the live one. On a nearby work table was a chainsaw, still softly sputtering with flesh and blood clinging to it's teeth. While any rational person would have taken off to go tell the police, Darius found himself almost entranced by the gory sight. After all, he hadn't had anything to eat for a while.
"Good job there Tommy! I'ma gonna be doin' some barbeque tomorrow, get those cuts nice'n thick! Atta boy!" Hoyt praised, with a laugh before elbowing his helpless captive in the ribs, "Nothin' quite like a good, Texas Barbeque, wouldn'tja say?!"
Thomas only grunted in response as he wrapped up the chunks of flesh in butcher paper before working on gutting and cleaning the carcass. Although Darius wasn't able to get a good look at them, he could hear the dogs snarling and barking.
"Shut the fuck up, ya damn fuckin' mutts! Shit... why ya still keepin' them filthy things?" Hoyt grumbled.
Thomas just shot his Uncle an annoyed look, brandishing his flaying knife as he did.
"Easy there, boy. I know, I know. Gotta keep yer little pet happy."
Having seen enough, Darius stepped away, continuing to listen to Hoyt shout at the dogs while Thomas carried on with meat preparation. At first, the cultist thought he'd just give his brothers and sisters an update on what he had discovered, only to find that his cellphone had died completely. Quietly, he groaned and cursed in frustration, running his hand through his shaggy, dark hair. If he left now, he'd be able to tell the rest of the coven in person. However, it was also quite possible that by the time he came back with the rest of the Soldiers, the people occupying this place could be long gone for all he knew.
Then he got an idea. Smirking beneath his bandana, Darius slunk around the barn, blocking any entrances with what he could find on hand before quietly lowering the bar on the main double doors, locking Hoyt and Thomas inside for the time being. Luckily, the barking dogs and screaming of the unfortunate captive masked any noise he may have made. Satisfied, Darius crept back to the porch of the house, practically slithering up the stairs, before trying the handle on the door after casting the poorly aged screen door aside.
"Well, some people are smart." Darius snickered, upon finding the front door to be unlocked.
Slowly, he pushed it open, trying to minimize the noise the old door made, before slipping inside. To Darius' right, the old man in the wheelchair he saw earlier was still dozing, the TV on, which helped conceal the cultist's presence. As a precaution, Darius drew his prod, taking a look around the corner. The door to the kitchen was currently open and he could see inside. An elderly, gray-haired woman was in there, humming to herself as she sipped a cup of tea at the white square table, nose in a book and oblivious.
Without a sound, Darius crept his way down to the hall, though before ascending the stairs to explore the second floor, that strange, out of place metal door grabbed his attention. He took a careful look around once more, then slowly slid it open. It was a bit noisier then Darius preferred, but luckily the TV drowned out the sound. Inside was dark, damp, and considerably cooler then the rest of the house, but damn did it reek of butchered flesh and stale, dried blood! In other words, the lone Soldier of Eternal Damnation felt strangely at home.
"Nice, I'm beginning to like this place more and more." he chuckled to himself, "Praised be the darkness below indeed."
The puddles on the floor, blood-stained tools, and pieces of bodies hanging on meat hooks did little to bother Darius. However, by now he had turned his prod on, delighting in that little crackle of electricity that followed. There didn't seem to be anyone down there, alive anyway, not at first, until some moaning from the shadows in a particularly dark corner grabbed his attention. Darius quickly abandoned his treasure hunt, icy cold blue eyes piercing through the blackness.
"What? A-again...? So soon? The old harpy up t-there would satisfy me more!" Vex hissed, from her shadowy prison.
There was another moan, this one different, indicating that there were two people down here. Getting a better look, Darius recognized the first female, hanging by her wrists and feet only barely touching the dirt floor. Vex... Diablo's second in command with the hunting party that had gone missing! The second girl, tied up and sitting on the filthy ground, was a young blonde with purple streaks died in her hair, wearing a very revealing cocktail dress that was now in tatters. One of Hoyt's newest toys. Darius paid no mind to the blonde, his focus on his missing Sister in Arms.
"Vex! W-we thought you dead! Praised be..." Darius gasped, in genuine surprise, "What kind of a deal did you make to stay alive this long?"
Groggily, Vex blinked for a moment, trying to flip her matted, dirty hair out of her face. Was... was this some sort of deception?
"Darius... t-they sent you? H-how long... h-has it been?"
"Over a month, Milady." Darius answered, as he cut his fellow cultist down, "What of Diablo and the rest of his team?"
"All... dead, sweetie..." she answered, swiveling her finger around the dank basement, "They killed them, I was... only k-kept alive because t-the make-believe sheriff liked... to fuck me with his tiny, soft penis."
Vex took in several deep breaths, trying to keep her mad cackling quiet as she clung to Darius before ripping the bandana off his face and pulling him into a deep, violent kiss. Gasping for air, they parted, exchanging nearly identical, wicked grins.
"Oh how I've missed this..." Vex purred, "A real man... not that rent-a-cop who can't get it up."
"I've missed you, Vex. Wait until Lucian learns of this. As for old "D"... no great loss there... I for one wont shed a tear for that son of a bitch. Tryin' to take YOU away from me."
Darius looked over Vex's naked body with a critical eye. She was skinnier then he remembered and looked like she had been beaten, though she still had the strength to stand on her own.
As much as they would have liked to do more with each other though, both of them knew that this was not the time or the place. After finding her old outfit amongst the messy storage arrangements and slipping it back on, Vex reclaimed her blade, which was thrown haphazardly on a table next to some meat cleavers and a few flaying knives.
"Missed you too, love." Vex sighed, as she kissed the flat of the blade, "Oh... now don't be jealous, Darius...you got the first one." she teased.
"P-p-please... h-help me..." pleaded the girl that was still bound on the floor.
Both Darius and Vex turned to her, smirking as the other captive gazed up at them with wide, terrified eyes. She shivered violently and sobbed, asking over and over again for the pair of them to let her go.
"Awwww... want some help, sweetie?" Vex asked, with a venomously mocking tone.
Before the girl had a chance to scream, Vex sliced open her neck with the machete blade. Warm blood sprayed from the wound and what life was left in the unfortunate girl faded from her eyes as she feebly struggled and gasped for air that would not come. With a relieved sigh, Vex bent down and began greedily lapping up the blood first.
Darius just smirked, "So, what did she do to piss you off?"
"The limp-dicked cop out there was planning to replace me with this fucking little cunt! Can't handle my criticism," Vex answered, in between mouthfuls of flesh, "Secondly, they... aren't exactly the most gracious hosts and I'm fucking starving!"
"Save some for me, would you?" Darius responded, licking off the blood that had splattered on his hand.
With a wicked smirk, Vex turned to her former lover,
"Darius... you should know. She is here! Amelia's flesh and blood!"
The male cultist's eyes widened, though they both quieted down when they could hear footsteps overhead. At Darius' questioning gaze, Vex continued in a low whisper,
"The whole family's been keepin' her here all this time. Poor daddy-waddy got shot, over and over again, leaving little Blake all alone. Heheheee... they're domesticating her into a docile, little housewife for the retard with the chainsaw. Already tryin' to get her pregnant with his baby. Hehehe!"
Yup, the giant man next to the sheriff in the barn, those two would be hard to forget. But Blake McCormick? Here of all places? He had heard that she was usually accompanied by two German Shepherd dogs. (The same breed his Grandpa favored.) If he and Vex could bring the girl to her rightful home, they'd easily unseat that upstart Miranda out of her Second in Command rank and gain Lucian's favor. This was better then he thought. This must have been the "hidden evil" Lucian mentioned.
"Vex, my sweet, the gigantic retard and Andy Griffith are a little bit preoccupied at the moment." Darius purred, devilishly as he brandished his electric prod, making it spark and crackle.
"Well then, let's catch ourselves..." Vex paused for a moment, hearing Luda Mae's muffled voice overhead, followed shortly after by the rattling of a chain dragging along the floor, "A little stray kitten."
::To be Continued::
Author's Notes: I thought it'd be fun to have Thomas genuinely worry and really put in some effort into "fixing" what happened with Blake. Probably my favorite part in the chapter, when I was writing it, is when Thomas actually lies to his Uncle with a straight face to protect Blake. It's just so touching. I'm also exploring a little more with the psychic connection those two are forming and we see what Blake does in her down time. A good skill to have is to learn how to make the world around you your weapon, never know what you may need to defend yourself.
Another slower, "breather" chapter, but don't you worry, next chapter WILL have a lot of action and the gruesome gore I know you crave! I love the idea of making the Hewitts the "defending team", as it were. Usually, they're in control of the situation but I like turning them into the victims. While Tommy and his family may have twisted morals, they are a very strong family unit. But, for anyone that's read Guardian Angels, you'll know full well that the SoED are not to be taken lightly either.
As always, Reviews are even better than coffee! They really motivate me to keep on going. Hope you all enjoy and I'll bring you more shortly. (Luck and real life, permitting.)
Disclaimer:: I do not claim to own The Texas Chainsaw Massacre or any of it's characters. The references to Jason Voorhees and Lisa Voorhees are from Lady_Vorrhees' story, The Strange Good Girl.