Falling into the Siphon; [27]

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;

A heavy weight fell around my heart, digging gorges through burst veins and shattered ribs, as I wrap my hands around the wrists of a young woman, her eyes stained shut by tears and smeared blood. Dead weight; that’s all she was aside from the occasional sniffles broken by sobs. Even when I attempted to speak she laid silent, letting glass and dust to tangle into her hair as she drags over the floor. I don’t know her name, thinking to myself again, too much of a coward to ask for her name, or even why she came here so many days ago. Her body, still bleeding, feed what kept me, her, and so many other victims alive, but her soul was dead – she was hollow.

Knocking my head into a display stand shook the knife lodged in my skull, digging again into my brain. Another squirt of blood shot out and rolled onto the floor, following the trail left by the broken girl’s empty body. However easy it was to pick her up; holding one arm beneath her chest and another beneath the arch of her knees – it didn’t feel that way inside, and I dropped her down to the floor below. Her body echoed a loud smack against the concrete and glass. Surely it was loud enough to get the attention of the three still hanging around.

But, do I drop the two girls from the store above Nick’s… resting place – will they fall on their heads? One hand grabs the handle of the knife, pulls back, and thrusts it back inside two times, digging it in beneath my right ear. No, don’t think of that – not all of them would be that hard to find.

The two girls, one that I. I don’t want to think about what I did. How where they doing, what were they doing in their own peace of silence with each other? Should I even try to speak to them, or should I stay away, point them out to the three still wandering about. Not much still exists to spell out – not even blood since it moves with a mind of its own. Wooden arrows to point them out? Would that be a bit much, when they can just search the place.

I heard an echo of their talks, but not close enough to listen in.

There was a bit of yelling – I heard that much – about irresponsibility and other things I didn’t have much care for. Now, for me, I can’t save anyone, but I can point out their bodies – souls broken or not.

Shambling over Nick’s resting place, I heard snippets of their shouts, but then silence when I entered the darkness the two young girls laid together, in shock silence of my presence. I heard one of them whispering to the other – nothing I had any need of hearing. Beside the spiral puddle of their mixing blood laid dusty stacks of wood, long enough to stand from floor to ceiling. I approached and they went silent, their remaining eyes fixed to my movements when I knelt down for one piece of wood and dragged it outside of their bubble – I might as well be a bubble. It was quiet again, and I pulled one end of the piece of wood over the portion of rail. Good enough, it’d at least attract some attention to it.

Limping back to the center of the mall, words running through my head, I watched two shadows disappear down a flight of stairs. A small sigh of relief, those down there would be found,  and I didn’t have to point them out. But, the driver of the dark car walked along the dry fountain, kneeling down on the carpet.

A thought crossed my ill mind. Why don’t I meet her? A succession of jabs quieted the voice, and blood drizzled down the side of my face.

What would I even say about all this.

Would she know what to do about this, about me?

I can hardly talk – do I let her do the talking with a shaky nod or a bloody hand for a yes or no – or… should I even speak?

Either way. I have to face her and end all of this – for me and everyone caught in this hell between life and death. I plunge myself over the rails and land on my face and side. It’s another echoing smack  and I hear her in the slight distance, The safety clicks.

Silence, and then crunching glass.

“Victor?”  She starts, “I know you’re in there. I’ve seen the video. I know what happened.”

“G-goooooood,” my body groans as I push way from the floor – knife still dug deep into my head. Her face is still surrounded by the fuzz of her jacket, and one hand holds a cross necklace tight – the other holds the gun. “Puh….end it,” comes out in a gurgle, and I sit kneeled on the floor, one hand on the knife handle. I pull it out and dig it back in, scratching against skull bones for it to lock. She says nothing. Through the ever changing focus of my eyes I watch her cringe while I handle the knife, clutching to the cross necklace tight.

“Victor. Yes or no, do you hear what I am saying?”

“Yeeeeeessss,” the hand on the knife drops down and crosses the stream of blood leaking from my  neck and chest, a finger digs into the single bullet wound that killed me first. “Tehiiiiiiiiis is wheeeeereeeeeee I wasss shot. Wiiith mai  own gunnnnn.” A sputtering cough makes her step back, and a spiral of blood circles around me – I watch it brush past broken glass. “Hooow did youuuu know… I waaaasss here?”

“A relative or a friend. They – “ she swallows her words, “ they had fliers for you, and we used the same forum…” she swallows again – is she not telling me something? “We saw your thread, and connected the pieces last week. And the people that went missing, and, and we figured it out from there.” Silence, between the both of us. I don’t move.

“Whaat’s … your name?”

“Carol, Carol Tyler. Where you the shadow in the window, a few days ago?”

“Eyes” it forces out another cough.

“Are you the only one that can… walk around?”

“Yes,” barely above a whisper.



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