Last night's story The Lovecraft Strain
Hey there kiddies. Ms CreepyPasta here. I was just making an appointment with my manicurist. Why? Well, you ever wake up and realize you been buried alive in your own backyard? That's how my day started. And lemme tell you, digging your way through six feet of dirt will leave your nails a real mess. Plus I have a coupon! From my last birthday. But onto tonight's intro...
The pretty girl surviving the events of a horror movie has become a cliche, a laughable cliche at that. But surviving doesn't mean you walk away... unchanged. Tonight's story is a pasta re-write about one such encounter. I call it--
Nina the killer
I used to get abused by my parents a lot, my two personal bullies. I would get slapped around, and if I fell down I would get kicked. My body was a portrait of scars and abuse. This was my life. And this is my story. I used to get abused by my parents a lot, my two personal bullies. I would get slapped around, and if I fell down I would get kicked. My body was a portrait of scars and abuse. This was my life. And this is my story.
** ** **
I fell to the ground, only to receive a swift kick to my rib cage from my father. "Go to your room Nina!" My father yelled at me, as though I had been caught doing some mischief. He had tired of the game early. Lucky me. Often these sessions end with my mom practicing her cutting hobby on me.
I limped off to the relative safety of my room. Why didn’t I go to the authorities you may ask? Because I was bound in fear. Fear that they would come after me, no matter where I would be sent. My parents had told me as much.
I walked to my locker just as the school mafia show up. Gee great. This was just out to be my week.
"Stay away from me." I tried to sound tough. I wanted to stand up for myself, but I can’t, and they know it. I hear the hateful laughter of kids all around as one big kid bounced me of my locker a few times. I looked to my right and saw Jeff down the hallway, looking embarrassed for me. As the bell rang they let me push through them.
Saved by the freaking bell.
** ** ** **
At lunchtime I carried my tray to the table where Jeff sat. It wasn't the loser table because even the losers had too much self-respect to hang with us. "Hey Jeff." I sat down across from him. Jeff mumbled something in response. He was clearly still embarrassed by the drama earlier.
I felt so bad for him. But never for myself. Self-pity really is for losers. I just wanted to take his pale hand in mine, and make things better. "Jeff." I began to say, but he got up and took his tray to the return window.
The biggest loser is the loser who eats alone.
*Weekend. No school!*
As I walked home, a fire truck screamed past me, speeding toward my part of town. I felt a surge of hope. 'Maybe the rental units set themselves on fire.' I realized I was grinning widely at the thought of my parents burning alive. Maybe that's dark, but they had made my life hell for fifteen years. So yeah, I felt they deserved a little hell too.
The truck wasn't at my house though. I would find out later where it really went, and my heart would skip for different reasons.
** ** ** **
He lived, but just barely I heard. The hospital was across town, and there was some suspicion around the fire, so I wasn’t allowed to go visit him. And I didn't see him at school after that. They said he was deformed by the fire, and would probably finish out his schooling being taught at home. I missed him, because now I was all alone at school.
Some weeks later I turned the TV on when I got home. This is the only time I get any TV time, before my parents get off work. It was on the local news channel, and I was going to turn it when I heard my neighborhood.
*News 7even Breaking News Alert*
"Bringing you a developing story, where two local families have been brutally murdered in their homes. One survivor, Jane Arkensaw is under protective custody at Memorial hospital. Jeffry Woods is wanted for questioning by the police. Any information on the whereabouts of Jeff Woods should be reported to police immediately. Residents are advised to keep their doors locked until more information is known.”
I was shocked. Quiet, shy Jeff wasn't a killer. Was he? The rest of the night was a haze to me. The more I thought about it, the less it horrified me. Jeff was a sweet guy, he didn't deserve to be pushed around. A bit to my own surprise, I realized I was jealous. Jeff had seemingly taken control of his life. It was unorthodox, sure, but who was society to turn it’s back on us, than judge us for defending ourselves?
That night I was woke up by a strange sound. I couldn't place it. I listened carefully, breathing calmly to see if I heard it again.
"Go to sleep..." A rough voice growled from my closed closet.
"Jeff?" I asked, as my closet flew open. I didn't have time to move, or scream as he pinned me to my bed, one hand over my mouth, and a knife pressed at my throat. He looked nothing like the sweet boy I had known. His face was sickly white, and his eyelids were gone. The corners of his mouth had been carved into a permanent grin.
"I guess you heard about me..." He said in a low voice. I didn't dare nod. "You think I killed them." Again, I couldn't say much. "You got it wrong. I set them free." His grin seemed to widen somehow. "And now I'm going to set you free."
I should have felt afraid or something, but I felt nothing. I was dead inside. My parents had killed me. I was ready to be free. To my surprise, Jeff twirled the knife around and plopped it into my hand. "You know what to do." And with that he left me to stare at the knife in wonder. It was like being a prisoner all my life, and then being given the key to my cell.
My drunken father was passed out on the couch. My mom was asleep in her bed. Neither of them woke up before I did the deed, before I unlocked my cell. I cut her throat, and stabbed his. I did not linger over them. This wasn't sport to me. This was a mercy killing. Mercy for myself.
Using that very knife, I carved my own smile to match the one I saw on Jeff's beautiful face, because I was never going to frown again. Never ever again. Digging through a bathroom drawer, I found what I wanted. A sewing needle and some thread. Using these I stitched my eyelids open, the sharp points piercing my skin was nothing compared to the pain I had endured over the years. I always wanted to look at my beautiful new face.
I'm going to visit those creeps at school next, see how they like the new Nina.