Don't Trust Anyone

A twisted, horror short story that will pack a surprise for any reader.

The police were questioning me on the event that happened two days before. The incident where all of my friends were killed and I was the only one to survive. I was certain that they did not believe my story but I told it to them anyway.

I started my story as I sat at that little, gray table in a small room, “I hid in a corner trying to calm myself from all the horror I had just witnessed in the matter of minutes. It was just a little while ago when my friends and I had entered the abandoned building in the middle of the night. “Why?” I said as I held my arms around myself, shivering in my clothes. All I wanted to do was vomit but even my stomach was too hunted by the events to even dare let the food out.

I had ran off as fast as I could when the scream of my friend, Sarah, filled the house’s walls. I do not know what had happened to her or the others, all I knew was that I needed to get the hell out of there. I never listened to my mother when she tells me not to do things but this time I really fucked up. I finally was calm enough to try to recall what had happened in the other room when everything went down in a spiral. ‘There was the five of us and we had just sat down on the floor. Then a loud bang came out of nowhere and that was when I started running away when I heard Sarah screaming behind me. So I have no idea if I had actually ran away from legitimate danger or just out of fear,’ I thought to myself as I leaned against the closet door of the bedroom I had ran into earlier. I knew I should had went back to see what happened since I did not see anything with my own eyes. But, at the same time, I did not want to be that stupid girl that exist horror stories.

Finally, I got the courage to leave my hiding spot after I found a rushed, brown hammer underneath the old bedframe. I cautiously went back to the first room, with the hammer raised, ready to strike any threat with the blunt of it. I turned into the room and all of me went numb, and my eyes growing large at the scene I had just buried into my memory. My friend Sarah had been ripped apart; her head was spilt in two, there was stab wounds all over her, and a large puddle of blood surrounded her body. My stomach had had enough and all my dinner from that evening met with the floor in front of my two feet. ‘She’s dead….. Dead,’ I thought after I finally collected my thoughts and took back control. My other friends; Johnny, Brandi, and Fred, were not in the room. Maybe they had gotten away, or maybe they were murdered as well. I had to calm myself from going insane or I knew I would never see my home again.

Exiting the room, I slowly checked the other rooms; two minutes later, I found Brandi crying in a closet of the bedroom two doors down from where I had hidden. I silenced her when she was about to tackle me out of relief. Telling her about Sarah was not a good idea, so I kept it to myself until I knew she was stable enough to handle the shock. “Brandi, I need you to calm down so I can get us out of here,” I whispered into her ear as tears still traveled down her face, “Getting out of here and calling the police is our best bet. Is your cell phone on silent like you usually have it?” Brandi held her phone out at me and it showed that it, indeed, was. I nodded at her first, then towards the window of the room we were in. Next, I wrote, “I’ll check if the coast is clear and you get out through the window. Get away as far as you can or go to the house three places away, just to be safe,” in the dust on the floor. Brandi crawled to the window and hid in the shadow of the old curtains so that no one could see her if they looked into the room.

Fear filled my body, as did bravery, as I checked the hallway for anyone. I did not see anyone down either way and I gave her the “all clear” with a wave of my hand. Brandi began to lift the window as quietly as she could and started to put her foot through the window. Suddenly, an axe flew through the air and gutted into Brandi’s stomach. I stood there frozen as I watched her hold her belly, looking at me, and land back words on the ground in front of the window. A black figure pulled the axe out of her and thrusted the axe into her face; it killed her instantly. I ran out of that room like hell and started screaming for Johnny. I did not know what to do. All I knew was that I would die if I did not get out of there. I also knew that I was f*****g scared out of my mind.”

I took a break from my story and, shakily, sipped some water out of the cup they had brought me. Looking at their faces, I could not tell what they were feeling. They seemed indifferent to the story I was telling them, but they’re paid not to show their true emotions during an investigation. So, after a while of calming myself, I continued on where I had left off.

“Two of my friends were dead, one killed right before my eyes. I wanted to be home in my bed so badly at that moment but I knew that I had no chance of that happening if I did not escape this crazy murderer. Still, I had the hammer in my hands trying to find the remainder of my friends. All I had left was Johnny and Fred, who I hoped were still alive and not killed by the mystery man. The reason why I was sure it was a man was because behind the mask there was a glimpse of short hair; the color of the hair, I had no idea. Again, out of instinct, I ran like hell away from that man. So, I did not have enough time to get real detail behind the hair other than the fact that it was short. My feelings at the time, you ask? What do you think? I was terrified out of my f*****g mind! Such a stupid question,” I commented to the police officer with rage in my throat. Still, despite the frustration I was getting from this interrogation, I kept my story going, “Then I finally found Johnny and Fred talking to each other in the old kitchen of the house. That was not the part that shocked me; what surprised me was that they were talking calmly.

I ducked behind the door of the kitchen and listened in on their conversation. Johnny was the first that I heard after a short pause, he whispered, “Fred, we had an agreement that only one of the girls would die and we would ‘save’ the other two from the murderer. Now we only have one girl left, we can’t share Brittany. You know that she is mine and mine alone. You stupid moron, why kill Brandi? She was your girlfriend after all.” I held in an breathe that I could feel holding in my throat as I continued to listen to the words that they were saying. I could not believe what I was hearing. All I could ask myself was why; just a simple “why”. I could feel all the anger filling my body as their conversation continued. Fred finally replied to Johnny’s comment. “Dude, she was getting boring. And have you seen how much weight she had put on? Who would want to date a pig? Besides, now I can get that sexy cheerleader, Amanda, to stop just meeting me for sex and finally just date me. At least she is nice and curvy,” Fred laughed quietly to Johnny as he wiped off the axe that I had watched smash into Brandi’s face just minutes before.

I decided that I would kill the both of them at that time. So, I walked quietly back down the hallway and started to fake cry. I knew they would believe those fake tears since they have never seen me cry before. Johnny started crying out my name asking where I was. I ran to the kitchen, screaming his name and I crashed into him. I held him close to me like a scared little girl would, hiding the hammer under my sleeve of my sweater. Johnny held me closely and started stroking my hair, “I was so worried about you. How are the others? Have you seen them? Do you think they got away?”

Looking at his innocently, I asked, “You don’t know? You’re the one who killed them after all.” Then, I stabbed the hook of the hammer into his back and watched him fall to the ground in pain, screaming. Finally, I said, “Shut the f**k up,” and kicked his head as hard as I could and broke his skull. Johnny was dead with eyes wide open like some kind of decease gold fish.” The sheriff had entered the room and asked me two final questions in a stern and dominate voice, banging his fist against the table, “What happened to Fred?! Did he get away?!” I laughed in that man’s face as I answered his question. I leaned back against my chair and spoke calmly, “That little dick wanted me so badly; he took too damn long to kill that retard Johnny. So, I took that fancy axe he had and slashed it right into his throat. I admit, they were not supposed to kill Sarah but she got in the way to save Brandi’s life.”

The men looked at me shocked as they were dumbfounded by the ending of my spectacular story. I laughed again and commented, “That’s right. I planned the whole thing. I wanted Brandi out of the picture with Fred because I wanted Fred to myself but I knew that I needed someone else to say that they saw Fred save us from the killer. Sara was supposed to be that witness but the dumb b***h tried to protect Brandi and got killed in Johnny’s attempted to stab Brandi’s back when she was not watching. I ran off to make it look like I was the innocent one in case Brandi survived. I only let Johnny believe he was in on it so I could get him out of the picture at the end. Originally, Fred and I was going to kill him together, to make it appear that we saved Sarah from him. But, since the first stage of the plan was not successful, I said f**k it and killed him myself,” I ended, finishing off the cup of water that I had in front of me on the table.

“The expressions on the cop’s faces were priceless that day, so I am not surprised that I got the death sentence for the murders and being, apparently, just completely crazy,” I said to the interviewer on the television show that the jail had put me on to be harassed by the public and the audience of the studio. The reporter asked, “Why make the story seem from one of an innocent girl and not just tell them the truth from the beginning?” I could tell that she was angry with my story, I snickered at her reaction and answered, “What would be the fun in that? I wanted them to have a story they could tell everyone.” I stretched in my chair on the stage and, without giving her a chance to comment or question any further, “Can I leave now? I rather die than listen to all you morons,” I harshly spoke out as I walked off the stage, handcuffs being snapped onto my wrists by two police officers.