“Don’t you move.” Bella smiles, a giddy feeling running through her as she screws the camera lens free, letting it drop at her feet.
She walked for miles to find this place. A house in the middle of nowhere. Abandoned months ago after the brutal murders of the family inside. Of her boyfriend. Her best friend.
Of Edward.
Her friends thought she was insane. Wanting to take pictures of places like this. To relive the memories they wanted her to forget.
People choose to ignore the morbid, to pretend it doesn’t exist. Those kinds of things, that type of thinking, is only for the depraved. That you should leave things like this alone. Loved ones lost are meant to rest in peace.
Bella embraces it, seeking those things out. She tries to find the beauty in it. Things other people aren’t willing to look past.
Edward always supported that part of her. He enjoyed the smile it brought to her lips and the light in her eyes.
It’s why she’s here. Why no one can keep her away, even if they tried.
There is always darkness in the world. It surrounds everyone, digging its fingers inside and trying to take hold.
But just like the terrifying scarecrow she’s feet away from, it’s the dove on its shoulder most people wouldn’t think about. They’d ignore it. Only taking in how truly horrifying the stuffed man looks. How his eyes seem to follow them everywhere they go. How the wind makes his arms move and they’re so sure his head turns an inch toward them.
Like its hollow eyes are boring into their soul and laughing at their secrets.
The dove though, it’s light against dark. Beauty in chaos. Its stark white feathers stand out against the frayed edges of a straw hat. And for a fraction of a moment, Bella finds peace in the way it finds comfort on the scarecrow’s shoulder.
With a snap of her camera she takes a dozen quick pictures and the bird flies away.
She sits on the grass and looks around. Her mind going a million miles a minute. Thinking of Edward and the way he smelled. The way he smiled. How his fingers felt on her skin. How he tasted.
She quickly shuts that door of memories, not wanting them to distract her. To take away why she was really here.
Months ago, the last time she saw him, she knew he was different. Different than the man she spent years with. She had caught him looking at her pictures, only this time instead of looking at her with amazement at her work, he looked hungry.
Desperate.
She still can’t understand why he came to this house. Why he chose the people he did. Why she couldn’t see it before.
Now she was going for answers. To put him behind her once and for all, and no longer feel like the fool who couldn’t spot the monster.
Clouds roll in a few miles south of her and lightning streaks across the sky behind the scarecrow. With the camera to her face, she captures what she can of the storm before heading off to the house in the distance.
It’s worn white wood and wrought iron bars fascinate her. She’s seen the farmhouses around here, each miles away from one another, and none look as beautiful as this one.
Where the others are small, pitiful shacks settled around dead grass and broken crops, this house is surrounded by green fields and life. Its gothic look and haunting feel only pull her closer.
She drags her fingers across the porch rail, brushing away the vines and dirt as she goes. Chills race up her spine and adrenaline courses through her veins as her hand wraps around the iron door knob.
The door opens with a whine, its hinges protesting as she steps inside and looks around.
Thunder cracks above, the storm inching its way closer with every minute that passes. She knows she’ll have to stay here tonight, that her friends will worry, maybe even try to find her.
The thought passes quickly as she spins in place.
There is no dust, no sheets over furniture long forgotten. Pictures hang on every wall. Smiling faces of the young and old. Each one in dark wooden frames with clean glass.
The smells that hit her aren’t of mold or mildew, but ash and smoke. Of wood burning and food cooking.
Her breath hitches and her skin crawls as she nears the kitchen, certain someone is in there. That she isn’t alone.
She wonders for a second if maybe she shouldn’t have come, that maybe the sinking feeling in her stomach is a warning. That she should run. Get far away from here.
But when she reaches the kitchen it’s empty. There isn’t a bowl, not a pot or pan. The stove is covered in a thick layer of grime and the faucet on the sink is snapped off.
She gives a nervous laugh as lightning flashes outside the window, casting dark shadows that dance along the walls and across her face.
“He’s dead, Bella. He can’t hurt you,” she tells herself as she tries to calm her breathing.
She’d seen his body and those of his victims. She even felt for his heart. Waiting to feel it beat under her palm as it lay on his chest.
He is gone. He can’t hurt her. Can’t scare her. Stalk her.
In the distance, outside of the picture windows, the scarecrow is gone. Its wooden-crossed home empty. Only the hat remains, the white dove from before sitting atop it.
Laying her things on the large sofa in the living room, Bella begins bringing in wood from around back and lights a fire. Warming the house and enjoying its scent.
With the storm rolling closer she wastes no time, bringing out her camera and exploring the house.
She’s always believed there to be magic in places like this. Spirit was too easy of a word, too often used in homes like this. The creaking of old floorboards doesn’t mean someone is being follow. The whistling of winds and the shuttering of windows isn’t always a ghost trying to speak.
Sometimes it’s just the house. Sometimes imagination. Mostly it’s whatever people want it to be.
As she snaps pictures, he walks in a slow circle. In a dance around his property, letting the girl seek her muse, letting her enjoy his things.
She finds bedroom after bedroom. Children’s toys sitting atop a neatly made bed. A vanity filled with brushes and combs. A row of porcelain dolls standing on a dresser. Each one perfectly made, with red painted lips and hair that feels like silk.
She takes pictures of everything and anything. Her eyes go wide and her lips twitch into a smile with every new find.
She knows the house has been abandoned for years, that everything inside belongs to the family that died before Edward ever tainted it. She knows that someone is taking care of it, how could they not? It’s all too perfect. Too clean.
Even the floors shine.
The nagging feeling comes and goes with every new discovery. Her worries fade fast as her finger works the trigger of her camera. Flashes of lightning are soon replaced by the flashing bulb around her neck.
Thunder booms, but she barely hears it, her ears and eyes intently focused on her surroundings.
Before long she is beyond exhausted. Her legs burn from climbing so many stairs and her eyes sting from looking through the lens for hours.
She makes herself comfortable on the sofa, stretching out as far as she can, letting herself relax.
There’s still one room she hasn’t explored. One room she’s saving until morning. A room that was pictured in the papers and mourned by the town.
She resists the urge to run into it now. Wanting to savor it. To spend hours exploring it. The house is beautiful and the pictures she took prove that, but it isn’t why she came. It was more of a bonus. A surprise.
Clicking through the pictures, one after the other, she can see how much she missed just by looking. How breathtaking it all looks. How the nagging feeling starts to return as she notices just how meticulous everything was set.
Like she just missed whoever lives here by mere minutes when she arrived.
With her fingers slipping from the button and her eyes closing, her camera slips into her lap. The last photo revealing an image of the world outside. Clouds rolling in the background and lightning moving in the air.
On the cross, where the dove perched on the shoulder of the scarecrow, stands empty wood and a hat. The dove now alone, its eyes looking right at her.
Outside, as Bella sleeps curled on the couch and unaware, he is there. His hand grips his blood stained scythe. A malicious smile curls over crooked white teeth.
Inside, the flames of the fire grow, its glow illuminating him as he enters the room. He stops a few feet away, the tip of his scythe scratching the floor as he pulls it behind him.
Slowly he lifts the wood and metal into the air and brushes a stray hair from her forehead. The blades rusted tip cutting a thin line across her skin.
She wakes with a start, her eyes flying open and landing on his. Sinister green eyes stare down at her as his lips twist into a smile and his hand tightens on the wood.
She’s confused at first, trying to remember exactly where she is. With a gasp she sits straight up, ready to apologize, but her eyes catch the scythe in his hand, the flames lighting the blood on its tip. She reaches up and feels the blood on her forehead, wincing as her fingers trace the cut.
“I didn’t know anyone lived here,” she whispers, pulling her knees to her chest and clutching her camera. She wishes now she hadn’t made a no cell phone rule. That her car wasn’t miles away. That she would have accepted Jake coming with her.
She turns her head as lightning flashes into the room and spots the empty post, the dove still perched atop.
“I’ll get my things. I won’t come back, I swear.” Her bare feet hit the floor at the same time he raises the scythe, pushing her back against the sofa with its blade. She can’t stop the scream as it bubbles from her chest, and the man’s eyes narrow on her.
“I’ve missed you,” he smiles at her, cocking his head to the side. His dark, dirty hair falls into his eyes. Eyes she’d know anywhere. Green and hard. Angry and narrowed.
“Edward?” she stutters, her chest aching as he digs the scythe harder into her skin.
“Who knows you’re here?” His eyes trail down her bare legs and he licks his dry lips as if he could taste her skin on them.
“Everyone,” she lies as tears fall down her cheeks and blood rushes her ears. “How are you… I mean. I saw you. You died.”
Confusion hits her like a ton of bricks and she blinks quickly, trying hard to understand how he’s standing here. Alive and well. Looking down at her like the predator she remembers.
“Do they really?” His eyes sparkle with excitement as she cowers in fear. He can feel her shaking through the handle and he twists the knife, slicing open her shirt. “You didn’t think I’d ever leave you, did you?”
She takes in a quick breath, squeezing her eyes shut as she feels the cold metal against her bare skin. She thinks of screaming for help, but the thunder would only mask it and the neighbors are too far away to hear her anyway.
“Please let me go. I didn’t know this was your house,” she pleads as he takes a slow step towards her.
“No,” he smiles, pushing her shirt further open with the blade. “I think I’ll keep you.”
The windows behind her shake as thunder rolls above them and it distracts him, giving her her only chance.
Praying it works she grabs the camera, shoving it in his face and begins snapping. The flash flickers. One. Two. Three times. And he stumbles back, growling and grabbing. His hands reach her and smack the camera to the floor.
She ducks out of the way, quickly jumping off the couch and takes off running into the hall. With desperate eyes she searches for a way out, but he’s blocked her in. Taking off toward the kitchen she slides on the rug. Her side slams into the railing of the stairs, making her cry out in pain.
“Fuck,” she hisses, clutching her ribs and picking herself up off the floor. Her eyes grow wide as she hears him, his blade dragging across the floor as his steps echo in the old house.
“Are we playing a game?” His voice carries, caressing her skin and making her shiver. “Should I count to ten, Bella?”
Her eyes close as bile rises to her throat and her heart pounds, making her ribs scream in pain.
“There has to be another way out.” She tiptoes into the kitchen, searching for the back door, looking for her escape. She’s relieved when she hears the banging of a screen door and she takes off, almost falling into it. Her fingers, slick with sweat, grip the handle, jerking it hard, but it won’t budge.
Her eyes find the locks, each one bolted from the inside with the keys missing.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he sings, laughing as her sobs break into the silence that follows.
Her knees give as she hears him draw closer and her back slides down the door.
“I can’t die like this. Not by him.” She cries into her hands as fear tries to consume her. She feels it take hold of her bones as she becomes weak. “There is always another way out. There has to be.”
She looks around the ancient kitchen and pulls herself up as she begins opening drawer after drawer. His steps become closer, the wood whining as he moves and she smiles when she turns.
A door. One she had seen before. The same door she wanted to savor, shines like a beacon as her fingers find purchase on a pair of rusty scissors in a drawer.
With lightning flashing all around her, she turns and runs for the door just as he appears at the entrance of the kitchen.
“Leaving so soon?” he chuckles, swinging the scythe in slow circles at his side. She looks him over. Nothing has changed. Even looking now, even scared, he still looks handsome. Still looks like the man she thought she loved.
“It’s a lot to take in,” he takes a slow step. “You don’t have to be scared of me, Bella. We can make this work.”
“So you can kill me too? Like the others?” she asks, her hands shaking. “You died!”
“Sort of.” He smiles at her, and she fights the urge to run to him like she used to. He was easy to be with, so charming.
“No,” she shakes her head at herself, disgusted at her own thoughts. “You loved me once. Please let me go.”
Her eyes dart around the room, trying to find a spot, to find a way around him.
He’s too fast for her. Too big. He’s on her before she can even get around the table.
“I’ve been watching you all day,” his lips skim her neck as he pulls her close to his body. She can’t help that shiver that runs over her. The feel of his skin burning hers and she bites her lip trying to look away.
“Please don’t do this.”
“It’s been so long,” he whispers in her ear. His breath heats her skin, making her knees weak against him.
With a frustrated cry she tries to fight him off. Her legs kick and her feet stomp, but he only laughs, pulling her even tighter against his chest.
She can’t help the small sigh that leaves her as his smell surrounds her. Like a lost memory she can feel it in her bones, feel him. How his touch alone made her shiver in pleasure.
“That’s right. Fight against me. I always loved that about you.” He kisses the corner of her mouth. “Not like the others. They were all so weak, so pitiful. It’s why I waited for you for so long.”
“You’re sick.” She spits in his face and her grip tightens on the forgotten scissors between them. Using every bit of force she has, she shoves them into his thigh, smiling up at him as his eyes go wide. She runs then, jerking open the door to the basement and slamming it behind her.
She wastes no time running down the stairs and looking for a way out. She knocks over shelves, tossing cans and bags as she goes.
When she finds a light, she screams as it floods around her. Revealing Edward’s work. His trophies.
“They weren’t good enough.” She turns, her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes, as Edward stands at the bottom of the stairs. “They weren’t you.”
Along the walls are bodies. Their wrists shackled and their bony faces staring up at her in horror. Each one is stripped of clothes. Scars line their withered skin.
She tries to speak. To find the words, to understand. Instead she sobs, dropping to her knees.
“I tried to make them you.” He comes up behind her, his hand running down her head. She’s too weak to push him away, too scared. “There was always something missing. The hair was wrong, lips too pouty. I don’t have to worry anymore. We’re together again.”
She tells herself not to look again, but there is something about his words, the way he said them, that forces her to.
In the corner of the room there is a steel table covered in blood. Metal drums surround it. A saw lays bloodied on the floor. She turns her head, looking back at the women hanging from the wall and she screams as he pulls her to her feet.
“I should have known they wouldn’t work.” Each woman is different, but the same. She isn’t sure whose arm belongs to whom. Or even their hair.
Stitches line their scalps, their shoulder blades and even their necks. Some have marks across their hips, their hands.
Each one wears the others skin.
“They’re all too dead to show you their eyes, but none were as brown as yours,” he tells her, pulling her around to face him.
“What did you do?”
“You left me no choice!” He shouts, shaking her and forcing her to look at them once more.
“You did this. You! Not me.” She tries to fight him again, but his grip is too tight, digging into her skin and making her wince in pain.
“I was only trying to get you back. To have you with me forever.”
“By mutilating bodies?”
“It was a learning process,” he laughs, enjoying himself and the way she’s reacting. It was always her reaction to things that drove him. When she was happy, she was beyond words. When she was angry, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Let me go,” she says, closing her eyes and trying hard to get the women out of her mind.
“I have too many plans for us.”
“Edward.”
“I’ve missed you. The taste of you, the way you feel in my arms. How you used to smile up at me in bed.” He strokes the side of her face, making her shiver. “The feel of your slick skin against mine, the smell of your fear as I thrust deep into you. That little struggle as I pinned your arms. The screaming.” His eyes close as a dark, twisted smile forms over his lips.
“Let me go. Just let me go and I won’t say a word,” she cries as his green eyes snap to hers.
“You enjoyed me inside you once.” He pins her against the wall, pulling one of her hands above her head, the other held between them. “I still remember the way you felt wrapped around me, Bella.” His hand runs down her side and between her legs.
“Fuck you,” she screams trying to break free, but he only laughs.
“Soon, my love.” With a kiss to her lips and a scream in her throat she feels the metal as it encloses her wrist.
“What did you do?” She pulls hard against the chain on the wall, falling as it stops her.
“You cut your hair.” She see’s the angry smile and the hurt in his eyes as he looks at her.
“What?” She grabs for her hair, running her fingers through it and looking at him, confused and scared.
“Well, we have to fix that.” He walks over to the table and bends down. Her eyes shoot wide when he grabs the saw and flips it on.
“No, Edward. Please don’t do this. Please?” She sobs trying to break free from the cuff. “I’ll do anything.”
“Don’t worry.” He puts a finger to her lips as the saw buzzes in her ear. “It was never the cutting that killed them.”
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CREEPY ASS BITCH!!! OMFG y'all have no idea the melt down I had reading this. HOLY SHIT.
That being said, what a way to go out with the very last prompt!!!!!! You guys know what's next, right? Yup....the three evil minds of the Unholy Trinity will combine for one horrific story!!! There is a slight change in posting...we will start posting on Friday instead of tomorrow. We just need a couple of days to clean some things up, but don't worry, we'll be back with a vengeance on Friday!!! Until then, leave Jesse some love for this creepy fucking story!!
~The Unholy Trinity
