She is the queen with the world wrapped around her finger. Her independence screams dependent and her role as the raging feminist was a lie seven feet long, six feet deep. Her views of life were scattered and contorted with the fact she was a pathological puppet. She was fake, as fake as the manipulative facade she carried strong on her shoulders.
She was weak, a phony, and it's about time to take off that pretty little mask. Donna Pinciotti was the queen of nothing. And to that, I say "Off with her head."
Donna had stood up to peek at her lover as he quietly walked down the stairs. A small smile pulled at her lips and decided it would be best to let him have fun with his stupid game. As soon as Donna closed the door, an eerie sense of being watched consumed her. The darkness of the room didn't help, either. Sighing softly, the young woman slowly backed into the black and felt slightest temptation to hold her breath.
'This house would be a good location for a horror movie,' Donna thought as she blindly felt her way to something to sit on, preferably a chair. Finally, she felt a mattress and slowly sat down. The sheets felt dingy, as if they were made from dust and grime. In her repulsion, the red head laced her hands on her lap.
Donna didn't know why Eric had decided to play the dumb game. They could be well on their way to explicit ecstasy now. Yet instead she was sitting, waiting for her soon-to-be husband to find a good 'hiding' place. She was probably the only one by herself and she was actually sort of scared. Then again, Kelso and Fez were probably terrified to the point of tears. And Jackie would be hiding in Hyde's self-sacrificing hold. To be honest, she was surprised Eric wasn't at least a little freaked out by them being in a stupid "haunted" house. But Africa had taken away his fears, and her dorky Twizzler. In his place was a stronger, brave man who would protect. Yet now he was hiding.
The squirming in her stomach as an effect of her white-hot lust had transformed into a piercing pang of paranoia. Donna didn't feel safe. The ache was so strong that she almost felt like throwing up. But she chose to ignore the creeping nausea and wait for twenty minutes to pass by.
But with every second that passed, every breath she took in grew heavier. Labored almost. Donna closed her eyes and breathed through her nose to try and calm her racing heart beat. It didn't help though, she just felt more suffocated.
Her pale skin felt as if it were ablaze, and her brown eyes stung like salt had absorbed into her pupils. Her lungs seemed to ache for the slightest amount of air even though she was gulping down the oxygen. Was this a panic attack, or was she going to pass out?
"Help!" Donna tried to speak, yet no sound cried from her throat. Her lungs were about to burst and her inhales proved helpless.
The room was spinning. Against Donna's will her eyes began to shut. A final scream attempted to crawl out of her throat, yet was silenced by a black gloved hand.
"Hold your breath," a voice sang to her the final words Donna heard before her world faded to black.
Tonight the queen would be torn apart, piece by piece. Truth and honesty ripped from lies and deception. Her two faced hide would be turned inside out- for all of the world to see. The damned harlot now exposed for what she truly was. It's time to tear the queen from her high horse and throne, strip her of her beauty and dignity to cast her into exile and face her mortality. Donna Pinciotti was "to quoth the raven- nevermore."
Donna's eyes fluttered open, only to be consumed in an even darker black. The air was now warm and stuffy, and was permeated with the deep scent of... trees? But she could breathe at least.
At that, the twenty-one year old took in the deepest breath she could muster. She smiled and cherished the fact her lungs could gorge themselves with oxygen. From her air deprivation, her torso still ached, yet it was a pain to remind her how lucky she was.
What confused her was the gloved hand. The smell of the leather nearly gagged her. But what she didn't know was if it had been real. She was at the brink of passing out and could have easily imagined being suffocated. And the voice that had followed... it was so familiar, but she couldn't put a name to it. "Hold your breath" still echoed in her mind, and she shivered violently as an effect.
Donna yawned and sat up, only to bump her head. A sick sensation crawled like a parasite through her blood. Her eyes widened as her hand slowly moved to her side. Her choked sob was muffled as she felt the wood... now she recognized the smell; it was pine.
Raising the same hand, the red head shakily felt for what she had hit her head on; it was the top to her tomb. Nausea contorted her stomach as she felt the lid to the box she was trapped inside.
"Help!" Donna screamed as loud as she could. As a result, her throat burned. Someone had to hear her. "Somebody! Please help me!" Her shriek had melded with a hopeless plea clouded with tears.
Donna was claustrophobic.
I could feel her fear pour out from the so called "box" that looked very similar to a perfectly crafted coffin- made by yours truly. Her cries sent laughter to erupt from my throat. Her agony caused me such joy. There's something about scared kill; it has a stronger taste.
Donna's breathing became erratic once more. Her terror began to seep from her every pore, to coat her body in a sheet of sweat and tears. While she always had control and a practical disposition, she was now in a pathetic frenzy.
Her fists pound heavily against the lid casing her in the tight fitting coffin. At first she thought she was high, but she had come down awhile ago. It would make sense if the guys played a prank on her- only they didn't carry around an old fashioned casket. And by now they would have let her out.
To think there was someone else walking in the house chilled her to the bone. They had to be completely out of their mind if they had put her in here. What if they found Eric, or her closest friends? She couldn't' let this happen to them either... but what could she do?
Donna bent her right leg and kicked the top board as hard as possible. If this was actually a coffin, then the lid would have opened from her brute force. Yet the board remained intact, encasing her in her tomb. This only scared her that much more.
"HELP!" Her scream was long, in hopes that someone would hear her desperate plea. "Please? Eric, somebody!" Her throat ached from the intensity of her shout.
Tears cascaded down her ashen cheeks, slowly soaking in her skin. Sweat had also begun to coat her brow. The air she breathed in felt hot, yet at least she could breathe. She was going to die in here.
Beyond despair, she decided on one last attempt of freeing herself before screaming her lungs out.
Donna's short jagged nails grazed over the inside of the lid. Suddenly she dug her nails and dragged them furiously over the wood. The sound and feel of her clawing nails made her feel even more disgusting. She was like an animal as she continued despite the throbbing pain and splinters piercing through her soft skin.
She stopped when the lid became slippery, casing her fingers to slide. Donna knew her own blood had begun to ooze freely, yet she didn't think it would hinder her.
In frustration, Donna slammed her fist and head on the bottom of the tomb. A shock of pain coursed through every nerve, causing her breath to hitch. There were tiny nails stabbing through the wood, and now into her skin. She had been laying on a bed of nails. And her head had been pierced.
She could taste the blood as it began to pool in her mouth. Donna was paralyzed; she couldn't move her head off of the nails. And if she could, she wouldn't be able to stand up. Donna was going to drown in her own blood.
As she breathed in, her throat constricted, causing a bubble of crimson to form. That bubble erupted in her mouth, sending a drool of blood to drip down the corner of her lips.
Donna's body tensed as a whirring sound filled her ears.
'Oh God,' she thought, her stomach twisting in disgust.
Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and abruptly jerked her head off of the nails. Blood dripped down her shoulders, and she whimpered. She had to get out of here. Now.
Raising her arms, Donna pounded furiously against the corners of the lid, trying to see if there was a weak area. Her efforts proved pointless. Screaming in frustration she stomped her foot on edge and hoped it would help her fall or break through.
Donna was my favorite to play with. Her fiery personality mixed with her secret girlish antics made her caught in between two choices. To save herself or scream for help. Feminism seemed to be stronger, but her dependency was starting to leak through. If I didn't kill her, she would have killed herself. It's difficult having multiple personalities.
Donna shut her eyes to try and stop her tears yet they continued to fall. She couldn't believe she was about to die, and it was Kelso's fault. There was no one who could save her, she was completely alone. If Eric had stayed with her she would have been safe. If Eric would have been with her they could have left.
Let's play the blame game. Name a person and pin your mistakes on them. Target the person you know will be the weakest. That was Donna's strongest game, if only Eric had asked to play that. She couldn't face her own wrong doings, she was better than that. Like her fiancee, in her eyes she was perfect. She could do no wrong. Except live.
And I would be righting her wrong.
Donna's breathing was heavy as she felt herself being pushed; not mechanically. There was someone out there, someone was sending her to her death.
"Help!" She screamed, fighting off the urge to throw up. Her cries and tears stopped as she heard a quiet laugh from above. "Please... I don't want to die, somebody, ERIC! Help me!" She ignored the rising laughter and knew that if she were in the hands of this maniac monster, there was no hope for her.
"Here's payback, Lumberjack." Donna's eyes widened at the voice, so familiar. She couldn't believe it.
Just as the name crossed through her mind, she heard the roaring of a band saw growing closer and closer.
"I'M SORRY!" Donna shouted, in hopes that it would get through to her killer. Yet her voice was engulfed by the loud machine that began to cut through the side of her coffin. "No, no, NO!"
Donna's pathetic, lingering scream of agony was silenced as the spiked blade of the saw began to rip through her side, splattering her dark blood every which way. Her limp head fell back once more, landing on the bed of nails.
Sighing softly, I wiped my hands of the blood from the red head. After disposing of her, I had a new empowerment to my walk. Now I was making my mark. After getting rid of the kings and queen, I could move to the princess, the knight, and the jester. I stared at the three perfectly crafted wax carvings on my lap and quickly moved my index finger over each of them.
"If he hollers let him pay, fifty dollars every day..." I sang quietly, giggling as I threw the middle carving to the ground; two choices left. "-told me to pick the very best one and you... are... it..." My eyes lit up as I held the small carving that my finger had landed on. Holding the partner, I kissed the head and set it on the table. "Don't worry," I whispered to the discarded sculpture, "You're next."
Turning my attention back to the chosen piece, my happiness spread through my body. This choice had given me a whole new excitement to this game I was playing.
Grabbing the blade I had thrown, I stabbed it through the wax, over the sternum. Red liquid spilled from the cracked figure and I wiped my stained hands on my face.
I watched as the broken wax doll melted into the wood in the fireplace after being engulfed by the large, roaring flames.
"Bye Bye, Burkhart," I whispered, eyes lit like wildfire.