Elizabeth’s feet throbbed. She looked down to see what it was that was making them throb to see that she was standing on a pile of rocks outside somewhere, no shoes on. She took a step forward, the rocks digging into the tender flesh of her feet.
She took another step.
It was agony.
Why did it hurt so badly?
Where was she exactly? She didn’t remember leaving Dexter’s apartment. Actually she knew she hadn’t left Dexter’s apartment, so how did she get there? Wherever there was.
She looked up from her feet to see people. Not just any people but detectives, forensic scientists, cops. There was yellow tape, flashing lights.
It couldn’t really be? Her killing ground?
She looked beyond the vehicles and people, her shoddy killing house appearing out of a mist. It looked more decrepit then it normally did. The right side seemed to droop almost like it were about to fall off the house altogether. The roof was more of a brownish red instead of a red like she remembered it being.
Elizabeth took another step toward the house. It practically doubled in size. She looked up and around her, the house’s walls bending outward as she breathed in. She released the breath and the walls returned to normal. She repeated the action watching as the house mimicked her. It should have been more strange to her but she was sure that houses did things like that. It made sense didn’t it?
She took ascended the steps, her throbbing feet protesting each step until she was in the house. It was like her feet didn’t want her to enter but once they were inside they had lost so they complied with her will.
Although, now she wanted to leave. The house denied her exit, the door not budging forcing Elizabeth to turn and face the horror within.
The walls bled.
The screams reverberated through the walls making the house sound like it was groaning.
And there, lined up down an endless corridor were her victims. Each strapped and wriggling to get free of the metal slab she had executed them on. Each one laughing hysterically instead of screaming in pain.
She took a step toward them. The first one trying to look up to her.
“You shouldn’t have killed us,” the man said in the many voices of her victims.
She opened her mouth to refute the comment but all that came out were garbled letters that she couldn’t read.
“You shouldn’t have killed us,” the voices repeated starting a taunting chant.
Elizabeth grabbed at her short hair tugging at it to feel the pain of it but nothing happened. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out. She leaned against the closest moaning wall sinking to her butt, her eyes closed as she tried to pull herself together. Tried to think of what she could do to the already dead.
When she opened her eyes again she was downstairs in her kill room. Looking around the room she saw Dexter, a dark smile of excitement on his face as he reached out to her. She took his hand allowing him to pull her to her feet, across the room to a small corner. The corner was ordinary, sterile. Just as she left it but he brought out a cotton swab, swabbing the corner returning with a q-tip of blood.
She looked from the bloodied q-tip back to the corner and the wall had began to bleed. Her eyes widened as she looked up to the gleeful smiling Dexter.
She attempted to scream again but still there was nothing that came out.
The blood began to fill the room, a small puddle growing quickly to a wading depth. Shortly it was up to Elizabeth’s neck. Dexter still stood a few feet away, his ever prominent wicked smile on his face as he held the incriminating evidence up for her to see.
The blood rose, covering her face.
Elizabeth tried to swim but her feet seemed fused to the floor.
The darkness began to settle around her.
Where was she again?
How did she get there?