Julie Peterson jumped up from her kitchen table, the wooden chair falling back off its legs. The poor girl’s face was still bruised, so much so that her freckles were barely visible. Her amazing smile that had shone with youthful innocence in her yearbook picture was gone now, and if anyone had asked, they would have said this girl was not capable of such an angelic display. She looked old and tired, so much so that Mike had a hard time believing that she was only fourteen.
“Hello,” Mike said, faking a bit of cheer. I hate doing this, he thought, but the image of Phillips looming over Cathy’s ripped and torn body kept his charade going. At least for a little while longer.
“W-What are you doing here?” she asked, stammering with fear as she backed herself up until she was against the wall. She jumped when the cold boards touched her back, as if she had thought someone was behind her. She was covering herself very well, wearing a fluffy pink pair of pajamas with flowers on them. They seemed seasoned and shabby, like she had been wearing them all day. Beneath the frills of the shirt a white undershirt was visible, but only until she pulled the top a little tighter.
It occurred to Mike what this sad child must think. Why else would we be here? Hating himself, he carried on. “I’d like to have us a little chat,” he smiled, the malevolence in his own words frightening him.
Her expression was anger now, her face turning blood red as she struggled to point an accusing finger at him while holding the pajama top together. “How did you get--“
Julie Peterson’s words stopped in mid sentence, as her cute little pointed nose and triangular chin both seeming to quiver. In reality, it was her body that was shaking. “No...” she whispered silently, her bottom lip no longer under her control. Those magnificent green eyes filled with unholy fear, something that went far beyond anything Mike had seen before. He didn’t pretend to understand. “Gawd, no--“ she continued, no longer shouting at them. It was just a frightened whisper now, like someone slowly praying in the darkness during one of those slasher movies.
Derek Smith finished walking into the door, closing it behind him with a soft click. “I let him in,” he said flatly, no trace of emotion or grief anywhere in his voice. He smiled though... but somehow it was an emotionless smile. Like it was a photograph pasted onto his lips.
“Your Mom still went out to the Clarksburg wedding reception with you home like this?” Mike asked, trying to sound menacing instead of absolutely shocked. “Tisk tisk.”
“That won’t do, will it?” Derek laughed, his fingers dancing wildly along a nearby wall.
“Don’t hurt me...” Julie pleaded, huddling into a little ball on the floor now, rocking back and forth but never taking her eyes off of them. “Please--”
“We won’t,” Mike cut off, a bit too quickly, then added. “As long as you give us what we want.”
Tears jerked down the girl’s face, and a series of dry sobs escaped from her lips. “What do you want?” she asked, very afraid of the answer.
Mike turned and looked at Derek.
The both of them smiled wickedly.
“You’re crazed,” Xander said finally, a small dribble of blood rising to his lips with the words. The pool of blood that surrounded him had grown exponentially, spreading out in all directions. It was glowing with an ethereal presence, because the dark life-liquid should not have been visible there, in the darkness of his mind.
Spider grabbed him by a handful of hair, throwing him. His body turned for the first time since he arrived, and he slammed his back against the floor. Again, blood came to his lips. It made him gag, wishing that he could force himself to throw up. “Ingrate,” she spat, her upper lip curling in disgust and her eyes narrowing in contempt. After a moment her lips lost all their emotion. Her slanted eyes remained narrow, but abandoned the anger that they had readily embraced seconds ago and replaced it with something that could only be described as hunger. She sat on his gut, her legs tucking around either side of his head and her dress curling about on his chest. The red gown was slit up both legs, making him feel like there was nothing separating the two of them at all. Her long black hair swung about wildly as she looked down upon him with an almost sensual desire. Suddenly, her features softened. Her body became warm onto his and she leaned down and kissed him, lightly, on the lips. “She always loved you, you know,” she informed him, her expression growing sad. Her hands fluttered over her abdomen, as if Sara was talking to the madwoman through stolen ovaries. “She loved you, but she didn’t know how to love you. You were so much more to her than a boyfriend, Xander. They all used her, her body at least. I don’t think one of them much cared about her mind. You were so wonderfully different. She simply did not know how to react to it.” She paused and glanced down at him. Her fingers slid down her own legs and then onto his
