Over and over and over. Holy hell, how incredibly fucked up was that?
His eyes fluttered open again. Drank in the carnage again.
He heard voices. Muffled. He strained his ears and realized the sound was coming from outside. Then came an abrupt burst of mad laughter. The sound made him shake with fear and anger. How could anyone do the things these people had done and laugh about it?
But the answer was obvious. These weren’t just people.
They were monsters.
And any moment now they’d be back inside, back to finish the night’s grisly work. Because he was the only one still alive. He sniffled, the hard reality hitting him again. His friends were all dead. And they had died horribly. After hours of torture and unspeakable violations.
Suffering beyond quantifying.
The memory of the awful things he’d seen taunted him, a dark promise of the shape of his own near future. For some reason he couldn’t fathom, they’d saved him for last. He had been beaten. Tortured. Mutilated. Two fingers were gone from his left hand, the stumps a charred mass of blackened flesh where they’d cauterized the wounds with an acetylene torch. But they’d spared him the worst of it, measuring the pain and trauma, keeping him alive and forcing him to watch helplessly as his girlfriend was flayed alive.
He sniffled again, wiped more tears from his eyes.
Something glinted in the periphery of his vision. He turned his head slowly to the left, wincing as fresh jolts of agony sizzled through his body. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of the axe propped against a side of a broken down old sofa in the living room. Lantern light flickered in the room. The old house had no electricty. The old Sutton place had been abandoned for decades. Once in a while kids from town would come here to party and fuck, but even that was a rare occurrence these days. The creaky, termite-infested farmhouse was just too creepy and gross a place to take girls. But tonight had been different, of course. What better night to visit the old Sutton place than Halloween, right?