Falling into the Siphon; [17]

Few people notice the absence of Victor Lewis, an Urbex that targets one building a month, taking pictures and recording video. Two weeks ago, he targeted an abandoned mall, and told friends of his plans – only they made the connection to his plans and disappearance, and share it on a small local forum. As the rumors spread, more follow after Victor’s footsteps.

Mature | Death; Body mutilation; Body horror;

They’re talking loud in what was once the comfortable silence, it echoes, they might as well be yelling. Two people, both women, their words blur together in a long sting of droning noise – they are completely unaware of the secrets in the walls. I don’t walk to them yet, waiting in the darkness of the storefront the teen and the man with the fresh pearl picked. I can still hear the guy’s sobbing, the teen’s yelling. The women are getting closer, their works slowly make sense, the footsteps on glass coming ever closer. A gust of wind blows out of the mall and their talking stops, the teen still screaming.

Running, they are both running closer; what alarmed them?

The rooms held their own secrets, why are they running.

The gust of wind stops and the running slows, their shouting begins again.

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know, but it sounded like it came from in there,” a light shines into the darkness on my left and the yelling and sobbing stops, another gust blowing gently inward.

“You sure? I really don’t want to go in there, it’s too dark.”

“Don’t worry, I got this flashlight.” One steps in and walks right past me, the flashlight shining against the opposing wall. The second follows behind her, wrapped in a dark fluffy coat. Could it be the owner of the car?

The slopping sound of the knife inching out of my arm doesn’t make them turn. Good. The first one wanders closer to the backroom, the second one stands still, looking from side to side,  but she can’t see me standing behind her. I can already feel the sensation of her pearls leaking over my hand, and I stab her in the head. She screams, the first girl turns around and shines the light on me. The knife pulls back the hood of the second girl when I wiggle it out of her skull and brain, her hands grabbing back on the blade of the knife. For her, it was a bad decision, and I grab her wrists behind her head, tug the knife out, and drag it across her wrist.

They both scream and the first girl runs, running to me and trying to hit me with the flashlight. It connects and I drop the hands of the second girl, who crawls away and turns around. The first girl hits me with the flashlight again, right across the forehead and she strikes again, and again, then shouts to the second girl. The knife was out of my hands, she held it in hers, and threw it back into the darkness. “Run!” yelled one of them, and I grabbed one of their ankles and tugged. The first girl’s face landed on glass and she turns back over quickly, kicking at my face. In my other hand I held a long shard of glass, blood dripping down the jagged edges, and plunged it into her ankle. She screams, the second girl screams, and I crawl up the body of the first girl while she fights. Her punches tickle, the blood bubbles drip over her, and I stab her in the chest close to a dozen times until she doesn’t fight back; only sobbing becomes her now.

The second girl huddles away in the corner, the flashlight turned to my face – it could’ve blinded me if she wasn’t holding it, shaking it between sobs. “No, no no, no no no no,” she hiccups and whines, watching me rise to my feet with the glass shard still held in my right hand. Her ‘death’ isn’t as exciting as the first girl’s, she only sits there sobbing while I stab her several times in the face – making sure I don’t hit the pearls staring at me.

Sobbing silence returns with the teen in the other room shouting for a girl named Jessica, the same fucking girl he was crying about before. The two girls are just lying on the floor still except for hiccupping sobs, I should move them somewhere else. I have to step over the sobbing first girl to get out of the room, embracing the silence that covers me when I make it all the way out. At last, some sort of silence.

The second floor would be an ideal place to fit them, cause more trauma to the teenager about a girl that won’t answer him back. Stepping back into the room and over the broken glass greets me to the sobbing and bawling of four people – they just won’t shut the fuck up. Where in the fuck did the knife fly off to?

Plodding through the darkness, knelt down on the floor and sweeping around tiny shards of glass, I search for it, where the fuck did it go. The women are still sobbing, glass is moving somewhere behind me, one of them might be trying to escape. Can’t let that, won’t let that, and my hand brushes the blade of the knife. It’s the first girl, she’s trying to crawl out of the darkness. Head shaking, I drag myself over to her and kneel on her back, pulling the scarf around her neck backwards and choke her. The knife becomes a wedge between her upper and lower jaw, and I pull back and saw it through her skin, listening to her screams. Her pearls must be a pure white now, right for harvest.

What does it taste like?

Moving forward, kneeling on her upper back and almost on her neck, the hand without the knife pulls her head back by the dirty blonde hair, and the knife digs into the flesh around her socket. The women is screaming, the knife retreats and her teeth meet the floor before the knife comes back, slitting the eyebrow area off. It’s texture, except for the short hairs on one side, feels like sliced tomatoes. She can only watch the knife come back after the dropping of her eyebrow. The blade points almost at her eye, then dips downwards, and slowly shears the flesh away, rubbing against the bone socket. Back and forth, rubbing, slowly the meat around the pearl loosens, the blue spot and tiny black dot staring away to the distance. The knife falls away and her head slams into the ground, a tooth shard falling out and blood spilling down her lip. She’s still breathing, bubbles coming through the thick rich blood.

The knife returns to her face and carves through the flesh attaching the top and inner side, making a cut deep into her nose running with snot. Disgusting. Face hits tile again, shaking loose the blood seeping around the glossy pearl – so close, and I lean in and lick it. Her copper doesn’t surpass mine, but the tears that lit up like a beacon are so delicious, and the eye itself is smooth, just like what a pearl should be, or like a giant juicy grape. One more lick before it comes out, knife digging deep into the boney socket, stopping every so often to tear away flesh from around the sparkling pearl and leaving them on the ground. The pearl, still ever so bright, is barely held in by thin strings.

They take a little more force.

Straddling her head, left hand digging deep into the socket for the wires holding it in, the knife patient, ready, hungry, and I am too. The sphere cradles within my hand and pull, shifting it to the left, and exposing the veins and nerves that are the only thing holding it in. I’m doubled over her, face over hers, and give the eyeball another lick, and cut the nerve.

Ah, there it is, cradled in my hands, gleaming in the light, the knife among the glass.

I wipe the blood away from the blue center, holding it still by the nerves sticking out of the back. Oh god, it’s wonderful. And I hold it over my head like a cherry, open my mouth as blood bubbles over the gashes. I first let it lay across my tongue, roll it into my mouth, and let it slide around for a bit, the nerves at the end tickling; I bite the nerves and suck on it, the blood bubbles near bursting out my throat, and I roll it over and split it. For the most part, it’s tasteless, bitter and runny. The husk of the juices is all that is left and I pull it out and toss it.

Now, to move these two before more people show up.

I drag the second girl first by her legs, letting the glass shards tear at her back, slam her head into each step, and leave her alone in the darkness of an upstairs store with a small desk near the front and several shelves going from front to back. I take the short way back down, break a leg, and limp back to the first girl and drag her out by her arms, her head dragging on the floor – it probably harmed her other pearl, but the first one was bitter so the other one must taste the same. I let them lay down beside each other, nearly head to head in the small space. I leave them to do another round of checking, almost out of the store, I hear them talking and consulting each other, and I heard them clear through the sobbing and the hiccups.

“Was- was that VTLewis?”

“Just … leave it,” and then they are quiet. I’m sure that one of them was the driver, but then that means the thread is still up… and people are trying to come here. Another plunge off the second floor resets my thoughts and I pick the knife out of the glass.



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