Chapter 5

After a snack and some water, she felt rejuvenated. She oddly loved it when the power went out. The house was calm, and the only noises were of old wood settling or wind whistling through the windows. It was all a lot like a classic film. Without the buzz of electricity, things seemed simpler. Marcy went back to her bedroom and took stock of everything. Nothing had moved, nobody was here. The fear made her think about one of her story lines, and she suddenly felt a little inspired. She checked the battery on her phone, 72%, enough to start a new chapter. She started fumbling with the entry, just wanting to get some of it down while she felt this intoxicating fantasy come to life. The power was out, he had cut the wires to her house. It was dark and stormy. She was all alone, or so she thought.

Marcy fidgeted cross-legged on her bed. This was all sort of eerie and ironic, playing off the real events of tonight to make some kind of creepy daydream out of it. She didn't have any idea of where the story would take her, but the setting seemed too perfect to resist. She saved the entry without publishing.

This one would go nicely with her theme of break-ins. She wasn't sure why, but that part of the movies always tickled her... watching Chucky stalk his victims. He had a sense of humor about how he approached murder. As her thoughts wandered, she replayed some dialogue in her head. His raspy voice tossing one-liners, cursing. She loved his accent and his careless attitude. He had swagger, and confidence was hot. Her face started to flush, partly in shame. She always went off the deep end hearing his voice in her head. It was enough to send a chill down her spine. She looked at the bed, now in disarray, and decided to give herself one last try.

Chucky waited, practicing a little patience, but not much. He felt for the switchblade in his pocket. Still there, ready to go. This was it, this was her. Dumb ass had left some easy breadcrumbs to follow. She even signed in with her real first name. She was laughably easy to find. Little slut had a death wish typed up in every detail of her stories. He had so much material to use. The bed was starting to creak now, she was right above him, masturbating. This was too good, he couldn't help himself. He pulled out the knife and set it between his teeth. Rolling out from under the bed, he gripped the bed skirt and started to feel his way up over the side of the mattress.

"Oh, Mar-theeeee" He called, the knife muffling his taunt. She stopped moving, her eyelids fluttered open just as he launched himself forward. He landed next to her on the bed and swiftly transferred the knife into his hand. His weight pinned the covers down over her arm. She was in shock. This must be part of her fantasy? "You wanna play?" His eyes flashed with electricity. He poised the blade over her face and brought just the tip down to press sharply over her pursed lips. Her chest was heaving now. She was frantic, afraid, confused. He had her. "I heard you like my style, doll." He casually pulled the blanket down to expose her chest and devoured her with his stare. She couldn't make a sound. This was very real, and she was lost in disbelief. The fear started to subside, while a bit of anticipation creeped in. This was too much like her stories, was she hallucinating? He leaned forward and smiled, tracing the tip of his knife down her cheek, up over her ear, and behind it. The feeling sent chills over her neck and scalp. It was an intimate feeling, like a lover brushing the hair out of your face before a kiss. She felt her heartbeat in her crotch. Her body sagged into the bed, her back arched.

"Are you... real?" Marcy breathed. Her voice barely a whisper.

He grinned again, narrowing his eyes. "In the flesh." He expertly released the blade with his pointer finger, using a come-here motion to slowly bring the knife shut. "So I couldn't help but notice you're having some... trouble." He giggled at her obvious sexual frustration. "You need some inspiration?" He lowered his head and looked at her through a stitched brow. That look melted her resolve. She rolled her eyes back and felt a spurt of wetness tickling its way onto her panties. She couldn't believe this was happening. This was insane. She should be getting the fuck out of here, but it was tempting all of her darkest desires to let him have his way with her. "Hey Bitch!" His voice was angrier, less sultry. "Look at me when I'm talkin' to ya." He pressed the button on his switchblade and slapped the flat side of the knife over her breast. She writhed, indisposed in compulsion.

"I.. c-can't" She wasn't lying. She felt utterly overwhelmed by the circumstance. His eyes were piercing. His breathy, guttural voice rocked her senses. She squirmed as he climbed to sit on her belly.

"You c-c-can't what?" He mocked her. "Look, I get it. You're starstruck, I don't blame you. But listen, I'm gonna be a Good Guy and help you get over whatever this.. sick fuckin' obsession is, OK?" He bared his teeth as she nodded compliantly. "We're gonna play a game..."