What Goes Around Bites Around

Melinda flutters her eyelids open, a creaking sound in the background. She inhales and comes to herself. It takes a moment for her dizziness to clear away, then she turns her head left and right in a slow motion. She seems to be in a bare and semi-dark basement. A wave of blood flows down from the far wall to her right and rushes to her, and she screams as it falls over her. Screeches and whispers of pain and death overwhelm her ears as blood covers her. The teenager looks down at her hands and legs and screams once more.

So much blood! I’M COVERED IN BLOOD

But then the blood fades away in a quick fashion. Melinda blinks, puzzled, and a deep sense of dread knots her guts. This is so wrong. She looks up and sees blood dripping from the ceiling, touching the floor with a faint dripping noise. After spending a while willing herself to move, she stands up and sees hooks hanging from the ceiling.

What the hell is this…?

Terrified, but curious, Melinda walks cautiously to the nearest hooks. Only two feet away. It’s weirdly easy to walk, as though she’s sliding on the cement floor. Or maybe the terror is making her feel like floating. She doesn’t know and doesn’t care right now, because what she sees make her back away and retch.

Hanging from the hooks are uneven slices of human skin, dripping blood. They’re fresh and awful, with disgusting bubbly fat sticking to them. Melinda gasps and turns around. All the basement is dim, lit by a red lava lamp—a fucking fitting choice, she thinks bitterly. And all over its length, there are these hooks on the ceiling, with flesh…

As she flicks her brown hair away from her face, panicked down to her core, she realizes she hasn’t vomited nor sweat. This is curious… Melinda jumps, pulled out of her thoughts in the worst way as the door to the basement opens. She sees a shadow in the redness of the light. A man’s shadow. The killer. And she’s his next victim.

Trembling with fear and apprehension, her eyes bulging out of their sockets, Melinda dares to look up at her predator. He’s young, with jet black hair spiking out of his head, with eyes wild and wide. He’s got a distorted grin on his face; he looks manic. Not surprising.

Melinda yelps and backs herself against the wall behind her. Her hands are all over the bricks, as though that’ll keep her grounded. She thinks for an instant it’s odd she doesn’t feel their texture, but then fear works in mysterious ways in such dire situations. The predator, with his wicked smile, walks down the wooden stairs in a slow, frustrating pace. He’s even nonchalant about it, which irritates her. But aren’t all killers like this? So confident? It’s like this is normal to them.

“It’s good you’re finally conscious.”

His youthful, almost enthusiastic voice startles her. He sounds innocent. Like a demon in disguise. After all, isn’t the devil in the details? Melinda gulps and gives him her best angry look. But it doesn’t impress him much as he approaches even more and stops at mid-distance from her.

“What do you think of my treats?” he asks with a proud grin as he shows off the slices of flesh. His expression turns dark, of the kind that accepts no rejection as he fixes his brown eyes upon hers. “Admire them.”

Melinda swallows with difficulty, but her mouth is dry. She nods and stares at a few of the hooks, nodding to make him think she’s marvelling at them. She hears him chuckle and clap his hands once.

“Perfect! You’re a good girl, Mel.”

The familiarity with which he talks annoys her. She clenches her fists; usually, there would be pain from her nails digging in her palms, but so far nothing. She’d agree she feels out of herself.

“So, I’ve got a surprise for you…!” he exclaims, enthused.

Melinda frowns as she notices a golden gleam in his eyes; it seems… otherworldly. As though… he could see things that others missed. She’s becoming crazy, that’s all. In her situation, that’s normal, right? Right!

The killer walks towards the far left wall, where there’s a lack of light. “Oh, by the way, I’m Cody,” he introduces himself as he bends over. He pants and groans, as though pulling something very heavy. “It’s better for you since we’ll spend a long time together, y’know.”

Then, he drags the corpse to her. It’s clearly been sliced up to hang on the hooks, but Melinda can see her face. Her own dead, pasty white features. She screeches and Cody shouts, putting his hands on his ears. As he lets go of the body, its head slams on the floor, but Melinda feels no pain. Like she hasn’t felt anything since she woke up.

“I…I’m dead?”

“And we have a genius here!” Cody mocks her with a laugh. “It’s your turn now, dear. By the way, you won’t feel anything.”

Melinda’s false breathing (it’s a habit) is ragged as she’s leaning with her hand against the wall. She’s watching her body in disgust and utter horror. She’s disfigured and a lot of skin is missing. She retches and again, nothing comes out.

Cody walks to a small workshop near the entrance and grabs a hatchet. He smiles at her, then gazes at her body longingly, a bit of saliva leaking from his mouth. Melinda’s shaking her head vehemently, desperation taking over.

“I’ve always seen your kind. Dead people, I mean. I’ve never been alone… and you won’t either,” he tells her as he raises the hatchet.

Melinda’s mind falls and rises like on the run from a nightmare. She sees blood descending in ominous waves from the entrance and hears awful voices again. She screams and slides down the wall as Cody brings down the hatchet on her corpse’s left arm. He drops the hatchet and grabs the arm, smiling, saliva now dripping in long lines on his chin.

“That’ll be enough.”

He fixes his golden brown eyes on her terrified gaze and nods as though they had a secret deal. Then, he stands up and brushes the debris and loose bits of flesh from his gray pants. “Wanna dine with me?”

“You’re mad! You really won’t-“

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. YOU ran away from a safe home, YOU’re the crazy one,” he shouts at her, pointing with his free hand.

Then, he whirls around and hurries up the stairs. His words punch her in the stomach. She flinches, but she knows deep down in her soul he’s right. Although she can’t remember a thing from her past, except a vague anger and a memory of a quarrel as thin as a silk veil. Melinda hesitates, but no matter what her past is, she has to know if this killer will really… do what he’s implying.

Eat me.

She retches again, yet she puts an ethereal foot one before the other until she can grasp the banister, which she sees but doesn’t feel. She takes a deep breath through her clenched teeth and walks up the steps, closing her eyes as she wades through the blood plaguing her. Melinda opens her eyes after she’s climbed the last step and enters the dining room. It is spacious, even beautiful, what with red drapes over the windows, elegantly carved chairs and a long glass table.

“He will have you forever,” she hears in hisses as another wave of blood crashes over her from the kitchen.

Melinda pants, but this time she doesn’t scream. Doesn’t even mind the blood coating the kitchen, the dining room and possibly herself. She hears footsteps and turns to the left. Cody’s bringing her slices of her arm on a silver plate, grinning at her. She stays frozen in place, watching him do the unthinkable.

Indeed, Cody sits down at the head of the table and grabs a slice. He brings it to his mouth, blood dripping on his chin, and he takes a bite. Melinda lets out the loudest and shrillest scream she ever has and falls to the ground.

He turns his crazied face to hers, munching. She sees the madness in his eyes, she also sees shadows to the right in the golden rim of his eyes. She blinks, confused, and at a loss.

“Delicious, hmmmm, yes,” he says, satisfied.

Then he licks the blood off his lips and smiles. She can see bits of flesh stuck in his front teeth. Again, she retches and gags… but nothing helps.

“Oh, you can’t run. Once eaten, you stay with me. With us, for all time,” he coos before gesturing to the wall across the dining room.

Melinda’s head moves in brusque instances, her hands opening and closing. If she still had a heart, she would have had a heart attack. As she turns to look at the wall, she sees a row of ethereal teenagers, five girls and two boys. Four of the girls are crying, the other is grave and has her arms crossed over her chest, as though disconnected from reality. One of the boy doesn’t meet her gaze, and the other is laughing, shaking his head in his hands.

“Welcome to the family, Mel.”

Again, her nickname, the repulsive familiarity. She rages and starts to shout at him, but then she sees him, taking another bite. He grins at her before munching this time, her blood and skin coating his mouth.

And behind him, coming from the neat kitchen, deadly whispers and a huge wave of blood rushing to her again.

You’re ours now. You will stay with us. Us, us, us… Our family.

His family.

Welcome, Mel.