Demons In My Bed

Burning

Anger and rage soon began to be replaced by anxiety and fear. This made two people now that she’s killed, albeit this guy probably deserved it. Dropping the knife, she bolted to what she assumed to be the front door and flung it open before slowly stepping outside and sucking in a breath of fresh air. Off in the distance she could see the sun was starting to set and the air around her had begun to cool a bit from the evening breeze, nothing too cold but just enough to keep any perspiration at bay. I need to get rid of this body.

Surveillance of the property around her only comforted her in knowing she had made the right decision to defend herself rather than try to flee. She had no idea where he had brought her, how far the nearest help could have been, or where she even was. Seeing the mostly charred remains of an old farmhouse off to the left, ideas began forming and soon she had her plan of disposal. It would only require a few materials, and with her luck they shouldn’t be too hard to find, given it looked like she was on an old farm.

After about twenty minutes of wandering the property between the old house and shack, she had finally managed to acquire everything to finish the job. A bit of searching had proved to be useful as she pushed an old wheelbarrow back towards the shack filled with her haul of goodies. Once inside, she carefully placed the wheelbarrow next to the creep’s body that had remained draped over the coffee table before removing the jug of gasoline that had been riding and set it in front to help keep it front sliding.

He deserves this. I’m only doing what’s right.

She fought with herself as she fought with his body for what seemed like forever before finally managing to roll-shove the naked corpse sloppily into the wheelbarrow. Placing the jug of gasoline back on top, slowly she began to push the deadweight back out the door and towards the old house.

Thank God I found this, otherwise I might’ve just had to use the shack.

It wasn’t long before she had reached the old concrete foundation of the house that had remained intact despite the previous arson. Wiping the perspiration from her brow that had formed from all of the heavy manual labor, she took a seat on the bottom most step and took a break to catch her breath and contemplate all that had happened since first opening her eyes in the hospital.

“Fuckin’ creep,” she said whispering to herself before standing again and removing the jug of gasoline.

It was time.

A devilish smirk began to dance across her peachy lips as she dumped his body onto the steps like a stone altar, almost as if she were making a sacrifice to the Devil himself. Taking the jug, she began dumping gasoline all over his body and around until there was just enough left to pour a little trail about twenty feet back where she stopped. Tossing the jug off to the side, she pulled out a little booklet of matches she had found earlier during her search. Striking it against the little matchbook, the match quickly caught flame and Ferrow couldn’t help but admire the way it danced in the gentle breeze, daring to extinguish it at any moment if blown too harshly in one direction or the other.

“Adios mother fucker, and may God have mercy on your soul. We both know I didn’t,” she said, grinning again before tossing the lit match onto the trail of gasoline. In an instant, the gasoline ignited the trail and began to devour the rotting corpse on the steps. It wasn’t until the smell of burning flesh hit her nostrils did she bother to leave and return to the little shack. A final glance back at the body to ensure he would truly be gone was all she took before disappearing back inside once more.

Exhausted, the moment Ferrow closed the door behind her she collapsed in the trail of blood that was leading throughout the house. Her eyes began to flutter again like before, but instead this time she fought to stay conscious, not wanting to black out again. Last time she woke up in the tiny shack, and if the creep had any friends or family, they would eventually show up there looking for him. Reaching up, she flicked the deadbolt into the lock position in a last-ditch effort to secure herself before falling against the door and drifting off once more. Perhaps these blackouts would be her new normal after such chaotic events and dump of adrenaline.

Wake up killer...

Electric blue irises were suddenly wide open once more and staring at the world in horror. An inaudible scream escaped her pale pink lips as she gasped for air before almost falling forward from her sitting position. What the fuck.... She looked down at all of the blood on her hands and body from her previous activities and could feel the fear and anger returning. After a few moments of collecting her wits about herself and reobserving the tiny shack she had sought refuge in, Ferrow pulled herself to her feet and wandered in the direction of the tiny bathroom that was still wide open.

Looking at herself in the mirror she couldn’t help but begin to finally break down and fall apart, oceans of tears pouring from electric blue pools: raw emotions shaking her to the core so intensely she had no choice but to reach forward and grasp the sides of the tiny porcelain sink to support herself in-between desperate gasps for air.

Fuck just breathe. What am I?

A beautiful f*****g disaster ready to blow.

If psycho could be described as a person, then Ferrow would be the posterchild.

The broken doll.

The slayer.

A killer.

Murderer....

“No!” she screamed, gripping the sink more intensely, her blood-soaked snowy white knuckles somehow finding an even paler shade.

She had to wash away the reminders of her sins. Ripping off the raggedy bloodstained hospital gown, she tossed it into the other room and started the shower that previously alerted her to her kidnapper's location when she first regained consciousness. The handcuffs he had tried to use to restrain her were still locked onto her sole wrist. She made a mental note to remove that later before hopping into the shower and allowing the hot water to engulf her. God help me...

The cascading hot water burned her skin only slightly, causing it to turn a lovely shade of rosy pink, a better alternative to the gruesome red that was starting to swirl down the drain. This would be her first proper shower in almost eight years and rather than enjoying this moment she only felt more suffocated by the bittersweet reality of what had transpired. Looking around the shower, it appeared her creeper had little value in his hygiene and only offered a bottle of 3-in-1 Men’s wash. Why do men do this to themselves? Better than nothing, I guess.

Sighing to herself, she picked up the bottle and allowed a decent-sized dollop to plop onto her snowy palm before proceeding to later and rinse away the remaining sins that plagued her body. In truth, no amount of soap or bleach would ever be able to purge her soul of this past Hell. This would just be something she would have to learn to live with over time, and find ways to cope with the chaos raging inside. At least her skin could feel clean for a while, even if it made her smell like a tad-too-cheap gigolo. Her hair would just have to suffer a bit longer and live in a braid or bun until she could acquire the proper supplies for its maintenance and upkeep. Once the water began to run cold, that was her sign it was time to exit her new sanctuary and dry off.

The tiny little wire rack above the toilet only offered one single hand towel for drying herself and she said a quick silent prayer before working its scratchy fabric across her body. Dry enough, I guess. Exiting the bathroom, the jarring reminder of the bloodbath all over the living room hit her again and she hurried faster to the other room where she was hoping to be a bedroom of some type. Luck was on her side as she entered the dark little space and upon flicking on the light, she found a twin bed with an end table next to it, a small dresser, and a closet. The thought of wearing that slimeballs clothes made her sick, but her only other option was to wander around naked and that probably wouldn’t go over well once she eventually ventured back to town.

“Damn Ferrow, you really are f****d,” she said to herself while she rummaged through what little the closet had to offer. Pulling out a black hoodie about four sizes too big for her, she gave it a quick sniff check before sliding it over her bare body. At least it would pass for a dress for now, as nothing else in the room would fit, it seemed. Plopping down on the bed with a heavy sigh, she could feel the exhaustion taking its toll on her fading body. A loud resentful growl erupted from her stomach, reminding her she still hadn’t eaten anything yet and the handcuff on her wrist was starting to rub it raw. There should be a key around here somewhere....

Opening the little drawer on the night stand revealed a random assortment of creeper goods, and the key. Bingo! She quickly snatched the key out and freed herself from the iron holding her prisoner and allowed them to fall to the floor with a.... hollow thud? What? The way the metal hit the wood, it didn’t sound like a normal floorboard. Curiosity got the best of her and she followed the cuffs to the floor.

Tap. Tap.

It was in fact hollow! “What’s he hiding down here...” Rummaging through the little nightstand again, she found an old pocket knife and flicked it open. Wedging it between the boards she was easily able to pop the loose board free, revealing another little stash spot. Inside was a small assortment of handguns, some ammo, a couple wadded rolls of cash in rubber bands, and another little tin box with a various assortment of drugs, some she recognized and some she didn't.

What the f**k.