She stared back, her eyes first filled with intense fear and then anger as she stared into the emotionless eyes of her killer. “You fucking tart,” she said bitterly.
Cathy didn’t think she’d ever heard Sandra swear before in all the years she’d known her. It had always been ‘sugar’ or ‘fudge’ in place of more offensive language.
There was a sharp sound, followed by a squish. It was the all-too-familiar sound of flesh giving way under pressure. It continued for a moment, its wet sucking sound filling Cathy’s head with an all-too-accurate image of what was being done to Sandra just a few feet away.
The footsteps started again, their heavy thunks moving further and further away from her. Smiling weakly, Cathy allowed herself a sigh of relief.
The footsteps stopped.
Cathy put her hand over her mouth, realizing her falter.
Now the footsteps came closer again, faster and heavier than before. They sounded determined and ready, more sure of themselves then they ever had.
Cursing, she moved forward to brace her hand against the chute’s door, hoping she could stop it from being opened. The thumb of her right hand brushed up against something rough and tight. She stopped, grabbing onto it. It was one of the ropes dissecting the box. A lightbulb went off in her head, her eyes glimmering with hope as she gripped the rope with both hands and pulled.
The entire box slid up in the shaft half a foot, the pulleys screaming from use but working all the same. She smiled, sticking her tongue out one side of her mouth as she pulled again, moving even further and more freely this time.
She heard the swift -shunk!- as the chute’s door was slid open again down below her. She could almost see the Womb’s emotionlessly shocked expression now, its head tilted to one side as it found the empty shaft. It made her grin.
-shhhaut-
It was a quick sound, lasting little more than half a second and so faint she barely heard it, but it made something in the back of her head twitch.
-shhhaut-
She pulled the rope again, feeling its fibers burn red marks into her palms and not caring. She could see a line of light at the top of her box coming from the second floor window. She pulled upwards again and the room came into view, dusty and dank.
-shhau- -tick!-
Too late Cathy realized what the sound was as the rope vibrated in her hands and then became loose. There was a split second where she felt weightless, reaching towards the opening with every ounce of speed she could muster. It lasted only moments before the compartment lost its battle with gravity, the rope slicing through the middle, and she began to plummet back down the chute. She screamed as the box shot downward, the draft catching her hair and whipping it up around her head. She braced both palms against either wall as she plummeted past the master bedroom, continuing down for another few seconds until she crashed into its base, creating a mushroom cloud of dust and mold. Her tiny form rocked about the small space as violently as a dice in a cup. Her head slammed against the top of the box at the same time her butt beat against the bottom, making her entire form feel squished as she bit down on her tongue so hard she felt her teeth connect with one another. Blood oozed from the soft flesh into her mouth as she jolted forward, mashing her nose against the door and twisting her arm the wrong way, hearing the bone break easily. The sound echoed off the closed-in walls and made it ten times worse than it actually was. Pain shot up and down her spine like fire. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move. Her head throbbed along with everything else in her body as warm urine trickled from her crotch onto her leg, then into a small puddle in the center of the shaft.
She sat still for a long moment, focusing on her own breathing as though without her concentration it would stop completely. Something sharp dug into her side that she didn’t want to think about, bringing even more blood out and mixing with the yellow liquid in the middle.
A black arm burst into the chute, grabbing at her neck with its sharp, bony fingers. They wrapped around her carefully and fully as she yelped in fright, then pulled her through the wall. She screamed as shards of molding and plaster ripped at her skin, the sound muffled by the pile of clothes she was thrown into face first. Crying and whimpering like a beaten pup, she tried to scramble to her feet. She lay her hand against the floor to brace herself. “Agh!” she winced, feeling the bone break even more as it scraped against itself. The monster stepped into the small of her back just as he had John Davis, pinning her down with his foot as something sliced across her arm and drew blood. She screamed and sobbed all at the same time, the type of sound only those new to this world and those about to leave it can make.
The same sharpness touched the right side of her stomach, pressing into the tender flesh just over the appendix and denting it inward until it was just beyond the breaking point.
She sobbed again, long and hard. “...please, don’t...” she begged, her voice a whisper. Her shirt and arm were cut, revealing the bruises left by Grendel and other men like him. They would fade eventually, but the emotional bruises would stay for years. She cried as this, her friend’s touch, brought back those memories in ways she didn’t think it ever could, his fingers hungry for her flesh in a way much the same yet very different from those that had hurt
