Chapter Text
I would have pulled away, then, if I could, but small, firm fingers pulled me forward, unrelentingly, into the dark.
Slam! I awoke to a loud bang echoing through the house. My first thought was the recognition of pain. My head was throbbing with it. I go to try and feel it to see what is wrong, but I can't. My arms are strapped down to what appears to be the armrests of a chair.
The next thing I notice is that there is some kind of slow rattling echoing in the room. Maybe it's a windchime. “What? Where am I?” I heard no reply, but something in the darkness shuffled.
I look around, trying to figure out where I am. I’m sitting, I know that. My arms are strapped to the chair and there is a strap going across my torso as well tying me to said chair.
I try to remember what had happened before I awoke here. I gasp “Micheal!” “Micheal, where are you!?” Right now my first and only priority is to find that little boy and make sure he is safe. I then remembered how I got here. Micheal had wanted me to take him to bed and tell him a story, then it all went black and I woke up tied to a chair in an unknown room, with no idea where said boy is.
The shuffling from earlier returns, and this time it seems to be coming from behind me. “Who's there?” “Micheal? Is that you?” “There is no Micheal here.” The voice startles me, seeming to come from nowhere and everywhere at the same time.
“Where am I? Who are you? What did you do with Micheal!?” I whip my head around, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever, or maybe even, whatever is speaking to me. A sinister chuckle echoes through the room and light engulfs it.
My eyes take a minute to adjust to the new environment, but once they do I am greeted with a large man towering over me. Menacingly. It's then that all the bravery that I previously had leaves my body, and I freeze, all movement halted.
The man in front of me is easily six feet tall, and is clearly much stronger than me. The thing that scares me the most though, is the fact that the once white apron covering his body (at least I think it was white) is stained red. A deep red. A dark red. Blood red.
It is now that I realize that the man is holding something. Clasped in his bloodied hand, knuckles white like ivory, was a long, sharp, blood coated knife. But it wasn't just any knife. It was the kind of knife that was designed to be able to cut through meat and bone. A butcher's knife.
The man slowly steps to the side revealing Micheal. But something is wrong. Micheal isn't scared. If anything he looks delighted. “Well hello Asher. Did you enjoy your nap?” I only then remember that I hadn't told the boy my name. “Micheal? What's going on? Who is this man?” The boy smiles and a chill goes up my spine. Something here isn't right, I thought.
“Oh Asher. Sweet innocent Asher. Did the thought never come to you as to why there is this little boy in this house? Did you think I was perhaps your girlfriend's brother? Well, well, well.” The boy let out a sinister chuckle, and if I hadn't been sitting I would have taken a step back from shock. He continued on with his speech. “That's exactly what I wanted you to think. You fell for my ploy so easily that it was almost embarrassing.”
“What? What are you talking about?” My voice stuttered, I was scared. Who was this little boy and what was he planning to do with me? “Are you going to kill me?” Of all the ways I had imagined my death, being murdered by a middle schooler was not very high on the list.
The boy smiled and stepped towards me, causing me to shrink back into the chair. “Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to kill you.” The boy stepped towards a cabinet that had gone unnoticed by me until this moment. “I just want to do some arts and crafts!”
He let out a sinister giggle and opened the cabinet to reveal a large display of knives, ranging from scalpels to bone saws. It is only now that I realize that the sound of rattling I had heard earlier wasn't a normal wind chime. Suspended from the ceiling is a large collection of bones hanging from what appeared to be leather. Wait. That's not leather. The wind chimes were made of human bone, and they were hanging from the skin.
20 Minutes Earlier
Slam! The door closed behind me with a loud bang and I sighed. “Going to need to get that fixed” I added it to the quickly growing list of things that we need to do before the house is finished.
My housemates had dropped me home with the takeaway after they realized that they had needed to get some last minute essentials from the store.
Thinking that we really needed to get a coat rack, I drop my coat on the floor. I then bring the takeaway to the kitchen, setting it on the counter, I call out to my boyfriend. “Asher! I'm home! Where are you?” When no reply came I sighed. “Where is that man?” I decided to check my phone for any missed calls or texts. When I found none, my concern for his well being began to rise. His car is still outside, so unless he decided to walk somewhere for whatever reason, he’s still here.
I begin my search in the living room. The house is so large and unfamiliar that there is no reason for mindlessly wandering around. I’d just manage to get lost.
“Asher! Are you here?” I call out into the room in hopes that he maybe just fell asleep on the couch or something like that. I flip on the lights and the room illuminates to show nothing. Absolutely nothing. He's not here. “If you’re pranking me it’s not funny! Where are you?”
After practically tearing the room apart searching for him I remember something. “My phone! I can call him” Bringing the device up to my ear, my thoughts are suddenly disrupted by the muffled sound of Asher’s ringtone. Back behind a tarp covered chair, seemingly hidden, is Asher’s bag. I hang up the call and the ringing ceases. “What on earth? He never leaves his phone unattended. Let alone in his bag!”
My mind racing back and forth between the thoughts of if he’s ok and the idea of if this is a joke we are over, I make my way to the stairs. The steps creaking beneath me just strengthen my fears of something bad having happened to him. “Come on Asher! Where are you? If you’re hiding, come out!”
The second floor is dark. Too dark. I try to find a light switch by running my hand across the wall, but I find none. I bring out my phone to use the flashlight. “Well that's odd.” Looking to the ceiling I discover that even if I could have found a switch, nothing would have come of it. There is no bulb in the light.
I enter the room on my left. Once again the lights are off and there is no switch in sight. “Asher? Asher are you in there? Come out if you are!” If I remember correctly this is my housemate Sofia’s room. She has already cleared out all the old furniture, but there are now multiple boxes filling the room. She also was lily enough to receive a room with a large closet. I should check in there.
The floor boards groan beneath my feet as a step farther into the dark room. Opening the closet door I note the way it sticks. “Better be careful then.” The closet is deeper than I thought it would be. Taking a couple steps forward I am greeted with what appears to be a stain in the hardwood. “What on Earth?” Kneeling down to the ground the stain becomes more apparent. “What is this?”
I reach my hand out to touch it but I am stopped when a sound echoes throughout the house. Asher. It's Asher. He's screaming.
My heart is beating faster than it ever has before. The only thought in my mind right now is that I need to get to Asher. The screaming hasn't stopped and one part of me is thankful because it has led me right to where it's coming from. The attic. He's in the attic. I practically slam into the door, I'm running so fast. I go to open the door but something stops me. It's locked. “No no no! Come on! Open!” I jostle the handle praying that if I turn it just right it will open for me. No luck. “Please! I need to get up there!” I don't know who I'm praying to. Maybe it's some higher power. It doesn't really matter. I just need to get this door open.
By the grace of God it opens. But by the time it does the screaming has stopped. I pray that he is alright, and that it is all some big misunderstanding, but something in my gut is telling me that that is not the case.
My legs shake and tremble, all that I can hear is the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears as I slowly ascend the stairs. Before I know it I reach the top. I squeeze my eyes shut tight. I'm not ready to open them yet. Slowly I turn to face the center of the room.
When my eyes open I don't fully register what is happening in front of me. When it does register, a scream rips its way out of my throat. I’m not even aware of it. It's happening fully without thought.
Sitting in front of me. In a pool of what I assume to be his own blood, it’s Asher. His head has fallen back due to the large, bloody, slit across his neck. He is dead. There is no doubt in my mind that he is dead. The thing is, that's not the most disturbing part. The most disturbing part is that his right arm has been removed. It's a clean cut. Too clean. Almost as if it had been done with a meat cleaver.
The blood continues to pool onto the floor. Whether it is coming from the remaining part of his arm or from his throat is unknown to me.
It only now connects in my brain that this part of the attic is directly above the closet in Sofia’s bedroom. Is this where the stain came from?
A sinister chuckle breaks my focus on the body. “Oh would you look at this! We have a visitor! Isn't that amazing?” My head snaps to the side, and I focus on a small boy. “What-what are you doing? Who are you?” My voice stutters with fear. Who is this boy and is he the one who did this to my boyfriend?
“Did-did you do this? Was this you?” I tilt my head in the direction of where what used to be my boyfriend sits. “Oh that? No no no. I didn't do that! Don't be silly!” I let out a small sigh before he continued. “But my friend did! Say hi friend!” He turns to look behind him, and only now do I notice the tall, large man sitting at a workbench-like table behind him.
The man turns his body slightly allowing me to see his face. It also allows me to see what he was working on.
Sitting on the bloodied table are three piles. One pile is bones, bloodied and broken. The second pile seems to be made of what I can only assume is muscle. Cut into small bloodied pieces. That alone would have made me gag, If it was not for the final pile. The worst pile. Centered on the table, as if that is what was being worked on, is a pile of skin. Skin that was cleanly removed. Surgically removed. Almost as if one were to make leather from it.
How I didn't puke right then and there, I'll never know.
Before I am able to process and ponder the revelation of what happened to Asher's arm, my attention is once more brought to the boy.
“Now, I would hate to cut this lovely visit short. You can't be here. And I can't let you leave!” The boy smiles in such a way that sends shivers down my spine. I can't help but feel like I won't make it out of here in one piece. “What are you talking about? What are you going to do to me!?” I step backwards, About to go down the stairs but something blocks my way. I look up to see the tall man standing above me. Blocking me in. When did he get there? The little boy chuckles once more.
“Oh don't worry. You’ll be fine! I just want to do some arts and crafts!”
His sinister laugh is the last thing I hear as the world goes black.