Into The Woods

Chapter 4

I am now covered in my blood as it continues to seep from my wounds. It stings, and I wonder if the knife was properly disinfected. It’s a strange thought to have at this moment, but it’s the only thing that keeps me feeling almost sane. Or maybe it’s a sign that I am finally slipping into true madness.

He throws his knife to the side, making me flinch. He shifts on top of me, and, with intrigue, he looks at how my wounds bleed down my body. The look in his eyes belongs to a hungry animal. I’ve never seen it before, causing my sobbing to become much, much worse. I stayed mostly still while he was cutting me, afraid my movements would make him cut straight through me, but now I can’t help it anymore. All the tension in my body leaves me at once.

My sobbing arouses him as he presses his body against mine briefly before sitting up. He frees his erection from his jeans. I can also see it clearly when I look down at his crotch. His c**k is twitching and leaking at the tip. The blood is driving him wild, and I barely know how to respond to it. Do I have to respond, or do I just have to let him do whatever he wants? I’m not sure what to do, but I know he means the words he spoke. He would kill them.

It did not matter if I told him no. The most I could do was try and appease him to save my parents.

He puts his hands on my stomach, covering his palms in my blood, and then, as though the arousal has now taken the upper hand, he moves his bloodstained hands to my t**s. His fingers move over the curves, playing with the n*****s until they are tight peaks. He marks them in red. His handprints now etched into my breasts. I shiver, my stomach churning. I feel violated, but still, I am not ready to utter a scream of fear for my parents.

I watch as he turns into a wild animal before my eyes. Seth moves off me for a second, shedding his jeans before he moves back over me. He then spreads my legs further apart. He grabs ahold of my legs and pushes at them, folding me in half. He exposes my p***y and looks at it, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. His lips part, and he uses his bloodstained fingers to rub all over me, turning even my p***y red with my blood.

“f**k,” he mutters, his nostrils flare as he sucks in a breath, like he’s breathing me in.

I respond with a sob, and that in itself seems enough for him to close the distance between us. He grabs hold of his c**k and guides it toward my entrance, and my heart races, and I scream. He lets me go and growls before slapping me hard. My head whips to the side and I let out a whimper of pain.

“I warned you.” he snarls when I see his fist connect with my face, my vision tunnels and blurs just as I hear my parents' running footsteps.

No, this can’t be real. It just can’t. I want to tell them to run, but I can’t find the strength to do it.

A feral snarl rips out through the darkness just as I am swallowed by it.

What a stupid, naive girl I was. Now he was showing me just how cruel and sadistic he truly is. How cold he is. However, waking up, I find I'm on the floor in my parents' living room and not in my bedroom. Mom's hideous floral drapes are the first thing I see. There is something wrong with them. A darkness stains the fabric and is splashed onto the walls surrounding the window. Blood, it’s blood, but I don’t understand how it got there. Then I hear a sickening scream. I wonder if my mind is playing a trick on me again, or if I'm dreaming. But as I watch him s*******r my mother, ripping her to shreds with his bare hands. I know that shouldn’t be possible.

My mother’s blood pools around me. It seeps into my hair and into my clothes. He tosses her to the ground and when she falls on the floor beside me, her blue gray eyes wide as she slowly blinks, gurgling noises leave her.

"You!" She garbles before exhaling her last breath, I could barely understand her, but I know the look in her eyes. I blink back tears, hearing his trudging, heavy footsteps on the floorboards. I squeeze my eyes shut, playing dead when I feel pain slice through my scalp.

It happened so quickly I had no time to react, no time to beg and plead for our lives, I shouldn't have screamed. Yet the rushed footsteps of my father racing down the stairs have me squeeze my eyes shut once again. Not wanting to witness his death. No sound made it past my lips when I hear him gasp. My eyes fly open. I choke and splutter as I take in the bloodshed on the living room floor. The horror on his face as he takes in his dead wife and me, his only living child left, would forever haunt me.

"What have you done, Maya?" He booms, confusion sets in. What does he mean? Can he not see me here bleeding to death on the floor? I gasp for air, struggling to breathe. Squeezing my eyes shut I repeat my mantra, this isn't real, this isn't real! Only when I open my eyes I am now standing, I am soaked in blood, and dazedly look down at my hands to find I'm clutching a knife. My brows pinch and footsteps make me look up to see my father moving toward me furiously.

I gasp, trying to tell him to run when he races over, hands gripping my arms as his face twists into a snarl. Yet I was fading away, but not before I hear the vicious growl. A growl that is as threatening as the man who slaughtered my mother in front of me.

My mind tries to conjure up some explanation as to where he went, yet I draw a blank, my father gasps while I glance over his shoulder, then clench my eyes shut, not wanting to witness his death when I see him standing behind my father.

Yet I hear it, hear every crunch of bone and tear of flesh. Every second he is ripped apart by the beast before cackling, laughter rings out. Yet my eyes are too heavy to open, my mind slipping away with my life. I feel myself falling; the ground rushing toward my face. The impact of the hard ground I don't feel when I feel fingers grip and fist my hair. His face hovers above mine, dark ominous eyes peering back at me, inhuman eyes. The glint of the blade that I somehow ended up with shines under the dim lighting, tauntingly.

Four times he stabbed me, yet her face was slashed to pieces with what looked like claw marks, yet I saw no claws from his fingertips. I could do nothing as I bled out. How was it possible? I gurgled, choking on my blood as it fills my mouth. My fingers reach feebly for my mother as a tear slips down my cheek.

“And you thought you could reject me,” he sneered. I thought his wording was odd. Reject him? I simply ran from my stalker. Nothing warranted this. I think when my head is slammed into the ground. How I prayed I would never wake up, yet life is cruel, and somehow I survive. But did I really?

It's because of me, they are dead.

I should never have come back here.

They didn't deserve this.

Maybe, I should have listened to my mother and stayed gone, I should have let my imaginary monster kill me as she said.