Slaughter Home

She shot her head up, seemingly to be gasping for air. She grunted as she felt sore at the back of her head. Slowly, she scanned her surroundings and unfamiliarity hit her. "Where am I..." she muttered shakily under her breath. She was in a room. There were no furnitures, there were no windows, there was a wooden door. There was a speaker in the middle of the room. The only source of light in the room came from the lightbulb in the middle that dangled dangerously from the ceiling. She sniffed. It was smelt like death. Why was she here? What happened? Bearing the pain at the back of her head, she tried recalling the last thing that had happened.

It was midnight, she was walking home from her friend's party. She was walking through an alley, before receiving a huge strike at the back her head. Panic and fear began engulfing her as she came to her realisation. She has been kidnapped.

She began hyperventilating in fear, with the thought of the ugly outcomes of the victims that were kidnapped. "No....no...no..." She whispered to herself over and over again.

DOOR. ESCAPE. NOW. The three words flashed before her mind. She got up and walked towards the door with absolute uncertainty. She twisted the door knob gingerly, praying silently that it wasn't locked.

The door opened. Trying to make minimal sound, she nervously slid her head out to see what was out there. She looked ahead. Darkness. She turned her head quietly to the left. Darkness. She looked right. A line of Christmas lights hanging on the wall. Her heart was in her mouth. On top of the lights were words painted in striking red: THIS WAY OUT.

Without thinking twice, she got out of the room and crept along the lights, trying to make minimal sound. It was absolutely silent. She could only hear her heavy breathing and racing heartbeat in her ears. Every step she took was full of caution and wary. She constantly stole a glance over her shoulders, and swore that she saw a figure standing in the darkness that was behind her. With that, she felt goose pimples rising from her skin and hence hastened her pace.

She remained hopeful that there was indeed a way out if she continued walking ahead. She prayed and prayed. Naivety, people would often mock her for it.

Soon after, she began realising there were pictures that hanged on the walls. With curiosity getting the better of her, she inched closer to have a better look. Backing away, her lips began quivering in terror. Those weren't mere pictures. Those were pictures of tortured and battered girls. "Oh no, no, no, no...." She uttered desperately, tears welling in her eyes. She needed to get back. It was a mistake. She shouldn't have left the room. As she was about to make a dash for the room, she felt a strike at the back of her neck. Black, once again.

She laid sprawled on the wooden floor. "Hello." A male voice mumbled from the , causing her to jolt out of her position. "Crap." She grunted before placing her hands at the back of her head that ached. Blood. Barely opening her eyes, she tried examining the room. There were no furnitures. There were no windows. The light came from the single light bulb that hung from the ceiling. There was a door. Was she in the the same room?

"Wrong move there! But it's alright. That's what they did too." The voice continued before erupting into a maniacal laughter. She shuddered. That was the voice of her kidnapper. The voice of her violent attacker.

"Please, please. Let me out. I'll give you money. Please. I beg of you." She pleaded with a shaking voice, unaware of tears welling up in her eyes.

"Nope, nope, nope. There's no fun in that." He said in prissy manner before continuing, "Rich people thinking they can buy anything in this f*****g world."

"Anyway! As I was saying, there are other alternatives or you can wait for me in this very room. But c'mon, don't be a kill joy."

Upon hearing this, a surge of anger and courage rose within her. Before she knew it, she began screaming in absolute fury. "NO, SCREW YOU. LET ME OUT. RIGHT NOW. OKAY. THIS ISN'T A GAME YOU SICK B*****D. LET ME OUT THIS INSTANCE YOU FREAK."

"ENOUGH!" The voice bellowed and she could a hear a loud thud on a wooden object. She jumped out of her skin. "Choose. You could either await your death in this room or play a little of game of Hide and Seek with yours truly. And I vow, that I will let you out if you can actually find the exit."

He continued, as he broke into into a whisper. "You once had fifteen minutes. Now you have five."

She broke down. Her entire body was trembling in despair as she sobbed away. She wanted to be home. She wanted to be with her family. She didn't deserve this. Not a bit.

She closed her teary eyes. She had no choice- she didn't want to die. Not like this. Hence, she left her life to chance. With that, she picked herself from the ground and walked towards the door. The sound of her furiously pounding heart was all she could hear.

She slid her head out of the door. On the right, it was the lights. The wrong way, the voice of the psychopath echoed at the back of her mind. It came down to two ways- ahead or left. All of a sudden, she heard footsteps approaching her. She panicked and before thinking twice, she dashed. Ahead.

She ran for her life, through the darkness. It felt like she was closing her eyes. Same fear. Same uncertainty of what loomed ahead of her. But She kept running, despite her legs feeling wobbly and sore, She just kept going. Then she came to a halt. It was a dead end of the long corridor.

She cursed vehemently aloud. Wrong way. Again. Out of anger, she slammed her fist against the wooden wall that was beside her, causing a painting to drop and shatter. She jumped. With the poor lighting that once again came from a single lightbulb that hung above her, she knelt down before the painting, not caring about the shreds of shattered glass on the floor. It was a replica of Edvard Munch's The Scream.

She raised her head above her. Instead of photographs of battered girls like the previous time, there were paintings and doodles in glass frames nailed on the wall surrounding her. Despite being different drawings, they shared a similarity. They all screamed lunacy. Especially the portrait of the clown with a black background, that was so realistic she felt that its cold and sinister eyes were staring right into her soul. Fear tingled down her spine.

Not wanting to have another look at the horrifying drawings, she spun herself around. And there she was, facing the darkness that had brought her here. She closed her eyes, picturing the route whereby she had to run back to the room and then turn immediately to the left. The right way for her to reach the exit. She took a deep breathe as she got ready to dash.

Then she felt a tight grasp on her shoulder. She turned. Her eyes widened in terror. She gaped but no words could come out. It was the clown from the painting. She stole a glance at the clown painting but it was empty. It hit her. That was no drawing of a clown. It was a window and it was watching her the entire time.

The clown lifted her up with ease and placed his sweaty mouth closely against her ears as he murmured, "Where did you think you are going? You aren't planning to cheat your way out of her by going to the other side are you? Now that's not nice, pretty girl!" She recognised the voice. It was her kidnapper dressed up as a f*****g clown. A gust of cold wind all of a sudden hit her face. The window that the clown came through was still open. She contemplated quickly in her mind. It was nearly impossible for her to pass through her large sized assailant and get out. Unless she attack him.

Using all of her strength, she kicked his face as hard as she could. He dropped her as he grunted in agony. RUN NOW, a voice at the back her head ordered. She rose up as quickly as she could. Before she could do anything, she felt a hit on her back with a wooden object. She instantly fell to the ground as she screamed in utter pain.

She tried getting up once again but she felt too feeble to do so. She clawed the wooden floor, hoping to drag herself to move away from him. He grabbed her by the legs and pulled her back. Once again, she was facing her clown-faced kidnapper. His wide eyes stared right into her. She knew from the murderous stare that he was livid. He spat in fury, "YOU DARE HURT ME? AND HAD THE AUDACITY TO EVEN ESCAPE? NO THREE CHANCES, LIKE THE OTHERS, FOR YOU. YOU GET WHAT YOU DESERVE, PRETTY GIRL." She let out a desperate wail, incoherently begging him to let her go.

He took no heed of whatever she was saying. He rose the bat at high angle. She let out a piercing scream. Mercilessly, he began smashing her skull repeatedly. She then laid on the ground motionlessly. Her eyes were wide open yet her soul was long gone. The place was once again silent and all one could hear was his heavy breathing. Looking at the bloody mess before him, he smiled sadistically to himself.

He lifted her corpse and placed her on his shoulder, before trudging down the hallway. Then he stopped in front of the poorly lit room that he once placed Her in captivity. He put her down. He whipped a camera out of his pocket of the clown suit and snapped a picture of her dead corpse. New addition to the collection , he thought with satisfaction. He stared at it in absolute glee and awe. He messily scribbled at the back of the picture, labelling it, '#4'.

Welcome to my Slaughter Home.

Author's Note

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