Horror Smackdown 2.4

Picture - 1

Word Count - 1500

Its Lonely in Stockholm

The house was old, weather beaten and in serious need of a coat of paint, as were many of the properties around this part of town. While the veranda was showing the first signs of rot, it was the manicured garden that had attracted Jodie. She had been collecting money for the girl guides for just over seven weeks, as part of her second annual funds drive. Previous experience told her which homes were a good use of her after school time. The way someone had buzzed over the lawn and roughly uprooted thistles, showed the house to be inhabited. The town had once been a bustling place, with a good variety of shops. Since falling on hard times however, most had closed and only the necessary remained. Like the shops, many homes had been abandoned leaving the townspeople mostly on a first name basis.

Knocking on the door with a confidence that only youth can bring, Jodie listened for the telltale movement from within, that would foreshadow the appearance of a paying customer. This was the lower end of town, left as a last port of call for her collection route, due to the shabby returns given by most and the excessive walking along derelict streets. This street alone had so far yielded only one sale, the only answered door, a single mother with a young child. She had smiled and bought the biscuits, underneath her smile the stress had shown across her haggard face.This house was looking no better, thought Jodie, as she read the name on a letter that had been tossed on the porch. The mailbox probably having rotted away some time ago. The letter was addressed to a Mrs Kennedy and made her think of an old lady for whatever reason.

She knocked again harder this time, thinking she had heard someone in the hall and that maybe whoever Mrs Kennedy was she might be a little deaf. The door opened just enough for her to see into the passageway. A noise vibrated down the hall into her ears. It sounded like a scuffling followed by a low moan and it made Jodie call out. "Hello, is anybody home? Girl guides calling." To no response, except the same scuffing. The image of old Mrs Kennedy, having fallen down and in need of some assistance was the first thing through Jodie's mind. Her own grandmother having fallen, breaking a hip before laying in utter agony for the better part of a day before being discovered.

It occurred to her briefly that there was something not right, but this feeling was pushed aside in fear that the woman may urgent need help. The hall was neat, well kept and clean, completely at odds with the smell that filled the air. Hurriedly she walked past the closed doors, calling out to whoever was making the noise. Reaching kitchen area and the end of the passageway she stopped cold. Within an instant, large powerful hands clamped around her mouth, stifling her scream. The sight before her made her want to flee but the hands held her firm against a hard body. A topless man hung, wrists tied and suspended from a hook in the ceiling. Silver tape circled the lower part of his face and his shoes, only just touching the floor.

Her body reacted before her brain could process the horrific sight and she scrabbled her legs wildly as she tried to flee, but strong hands held her head fast. A sudden movement across the room caught her fearful gaze, as a youngish woman stood from her seat at the kitchen table. Beside her an old woman's body lay slumped across the table as pools of dried blood, cracked in the dry heat of the room.

"Why did you let her in?" The woman asked Jodie's captor, picking a knife from the table as she advanced.

"She is mine." His response sent a chill down her spine and she had to resist the primal urge to struggle again.

However the woman simply turned her attention to the helplessly suspended man. Taking the knife she cut from behind his ear along his neck and down his chest. A muted scream was all the victim could manage, as blood ran freely down his front, only to run beneath his jeans and stain through. He twisted on his tether, sending a shower of blood onto the once clean floor. Deep inside, Jodie could feel her body contract in sympathy, as the woman cut him a second time, this one parallel to the previous laceration. Slowly she continued to cut lines into the man, forming patterns at will while he cried tears of agony. Jodie closed her eyes each time the knife sliced into his flesh as if to spare herself the horror of having to watch, but when she opened them again, the scene was relentless. When the man finally slipped into a state of shock, he hung convulsing, flicking blood over his tormentor. The death throes of another human seemed to delight her, as she circled his ebbing body until it hung lifelessly dripping the last of its fluids onto the floor. His jeans dark with the precious liquid that had once sustained him.

Crossing the floor she got close to Jodie and the young Girl Guide could feel the large man tightening his grip as though he were afraid of what this mad woman might try.

"Do with her as you will?" She spat the words at the man like venom, while using a sleeve to wipe the blood droplets from her face.

With out a word of warning, Jodie's protective captor dragged her whimpering down the hall and into a bed room where he released her. Finally able to turn her head she spun to face her attacker, not prepared for the sight that greeted her. Looking at his large frame now, it was easy to imagine that the man hanging in the kitchen, may have gotten off light. This mans face had large scars running its length from forehead to chin, his arms similarly scared. Fresh wounds formed large cracked scabs, showing signs of recent abuse and furniture tacks had been driven into his hands and arms. Familiar patterns of scar tissue jumped out at Jodie, having just witnessed them cut into the flesh of another. The compassion in his eyes threw her the most, as a form of gratitude welled up inside her. Had she been older she may have heard of Stockholm syndrome, but at the tender age of fifteen it was an unfamiliar concept.

"Please." She begged the man. "Please help me." And for a moment she thought he might.

Jodie didn't see the nail until it was in the meat of her hand. He held it tight between his fingers and as he reached for her he drove it home. She screamed in pain and surprise, causing him to push her down on the bed, reaching into his pocket for another tack as he did so. The next one punctured the skin above her wrist, he pinned her to the bed with his weight while reaching into his pocket for another. She twisted and turned ripping the nail free in the struggle sending shock waves of pain up her arm. Clawing at the bed spread she tried to slide from beneath him, while he fumbled for another nail but couldn't slip free. As he plunged another into her shoulder she brought her knee up into his groin. Immediately he fumbled, giving her the break she needed to slide under him, making it to the door and away.

A sudden jerk pulled her head backwards, flooring her as a strange sensation passed under her chin. Looking up she could just make out the sadistic woman standing over her as something hot and wet began to soak her top. Her fingers slid automatically to her throat only to find it gushing with a warm fluid. Her hand coming away caked in blood, she tried to gasp but only succeeded in drawing blood into her lungs.

"You thought him a monster while he was trying to save you." Laughed a female voice but it was too late for little Jodie to pay it any mind. On her feet again she stumbled along the hall, blood pumping down her shirt in waves. Her lungs hurt as she tried to suck air in a panic and came up short, every exhale turning into a sickening gurgle. She felt a cold creep across her skin as the warm lifeblood left her. She slid along the wall until she sat in defeat looking at the door so close and yet so far away, as behind her the sadist spoke.

"You know we have to move again now."

As the blackness closed in on her mind like a million little light bulbs burning out, one after another she thought she heard a man sob most lonely.