Derranged

Chapter 6- Cruella DeVil

"To see her is to
Take a sudden chill
Cruella, Cruella De Vil"

Mal had gotten out of the shower, dripping wet when she realized that she would have to unfortunately don her old, ragged, mud stained and odious clothes. Just when she unfolded her overly large faded orange towel, she noticed that something tucked into it. It was a short purple dress, in a skater skirt fashion. Curious, she slipped it on and found that it was just about the right size! She didn't know where Carlos acquired this dress, but she didn't care. It was wonderful!

She put her boots back on and observed herself in the mirror to finish drying off her hair. She was too preoccupied with the feeling of being clean drying herself that she didn't notice the shadows of two feet on the other side of the door. The figure on the other side was breathing heavily, as they often did when preparing for what needed to be done. It was not something to be taken lightly.

In a flash, the door swung wide open and a figure screeched and lunged at Mal. The large figure wielded a large silver dagger in it's left hand. Mal dove to the left and the dagger plunged into the mirror, shattering it into pieces. Instintively, Mal grabbed a large shard and took off into the hallway.

Mal turned back for the briefest of moments to see assailant from the back. The large white coat with black and white spots, the red leather gloves and black and white hair.

Cruella DeVil herself!

Run, run, run! Mal thought to herself as she fled down the hallway. She ran to the front door but it was bolted shut and it looked as if it had been locked with a key…from the inside! The figure was in the hallway now, darkness hiding her face and the moonlight outside illuminating bared white teeth. Mal took no chances as she dodged to the right and skipped steps as she ran up the stairs, trying each door and seeing if there was a secondary exit. Each and every door was locked except for one that was open just a crack. She fled inside and slammed the door shut.

"Whore! Filthy little whoreeee!" screeched the voice from the outside, "You'll die just like your Mother! In a pool of blood, disgusting and unloved! I'll skin youuuu. I'll skin you like those puppiessss." They banged on the door, kicking harder and harder until Mal was terrified that the door would come off its hinges. She was much stronger than she looked, especially for someone that Carlos claimed was on the verge of depression and death from inactivity. Perhaps Carlos was wrong.

Carlos! Where was he? She hadn't seen him since before she was going to take a shower. Wait, she thought, did Carlos tell Cruella that she was here? Oh no, she thought, please let this not be true. Mal didn't have many friends, and she hoped she could count on Carlos to help her.

Mal surveyed the bedroom to get her bearings. It looked old, antique in the sense that whomever occupied this room was born in another time. The walls were faded bloodred, black lace curtains covered not just the window, but each part of the elaborate bedframe. The bed was decorated in pink bows and the frame of the bed and table was black lacquer wood frame in elaborate designs. A telephone, redundant on an island that had no telephone lines to make calls, was on the nightstand. It was a rotary phone and beside it was an overfilled ashtray with one single smoldering cigarette in a black plastic holder perched on it. There was a figure tucked under the covers in the bed, immobile and silent.

"Carlos?" whispered Mal as she stepped closer. The closer she got, the stronger the pungent odor got. It was faint in the air when she entered the room, but the heavy smell of floral perfume masked the potency. There were a few candles illuminating the dark room, not bright enough for Mal to make out the figure in the bed. She grabbed one of the candelabras from the night stand and held it to the figure.

She screamed when she realized what was in the bed. She couldn't stop shaking, desperately trying not the drop the candle at once. It was a corpse! The high cheek bones, the nicotine stained teeth, the frail frame…

It was Cruella! From the looks of things, she had been dead for years. Wait, thought Mal…if Cruella is here, then who is…"

The door flew open with a heavy kick, splinters of wood cascaded into the room. The figure stood in the doorway. Now that the figure faced Mal in the light, she could see the truth.

"Carlos?" asked Mal, shaking with fear.

"Why can't you leave my poor boy, my Carlos, alone?" asked the scratchy, feminine voice uttered from Carlos's lips.

"What happened, Carlos? Did you kill her?" asked Mal, trying desperately to think of anything that would snap him out of this.

"I can only imagine what she did to you," continued Mal, "My mother probably did the same to me. Scars…burns…they hate us and want to hurt us as much as they were hurt."

"I'd never hurt my boy…" continued Carlos, "I love my Carlos. Everything I did to him, he deserved it. Anything else, well…he probably needed it."

Carlos inched closer, hand gripping the knife until his knuckles were white. He moved swiftly and elegantly for a man in high heels. Mal guessed that he had much practice with this. How long had he been this way?

Mal gave up trying to reason with him and rushed him, trying to throw him off guard. He stepped aside with grace and tripped her. She fell down with full force and Carlos drove the blade deep into her thigh.

She screamed like she had never screamed before. Ignoring the pain for a split second, between tears streaming down her face, she remembered the mirror and drove it into Carlos's side. He matched her scream but not for the same reason.

"My coat!" he shrieked, "My perfect fur coat!" he screamed. Mal couldn't believe it. He really had become his Mother in every single way. Carlos, an unbelievable rage in his eyes, was suddenly upon Mal, flipping her onto her back and throttling her throat with his bare hands. Mal gagged and sputtered, flailing desperately to try to throw him off her, but his weight was too much for her and he overpowered her. The last word she attempted to utter was lost to the wind as one loud snap of her neck silenced Mal forever.