“I’m… not sure what’s happening to me. I just… started to like it… the...”

He was visibly shaking now, holding his hands up to his face to see the earthquake that was erupting inside him, as well as making sure that it was truly him. He shoved the next word out in an almost unintelligible stutter. “P-pain.” 

The winter-spring night transition confused me, humidity licked the air, and as soon as it was finished waving its tongue around, the cold night air froze my body, keeping me alert. However, I didn’t need it. I felt my jaw hug the floor as my friend slowly dipped his mind into the pool of madness. When he dragged me outside, away from the party (much to my displeasure), I was propping myself up against the railing of my porch, but at this point I manned up and stood straight up to face my friend. 

“The pain- yes, their pain- was my pleasure. They… had to die.” He heaved a sigh. “I’m glad I told you that.” 

“You’re glad? You just confessed to the murder of three other classmates!” He sagely nodded with a newfound calm of a killer. He was no longer not sure of himself. There was no turning back. He gave a demented half-smile, and peered at me from underneath his long bangs. 

“I realize. I said it.” He took a step closer. “And did it.” 

I knew what would happen in the next few moments. “Why did you tell me that? You just sealed my fate you… you…” Dear god was it hard to talk through confused tears. 

“Monster?” He cocked his head sideways. “Quite a fitting term.”

My friend always had this little backpack on him. He never took it off. That, and his hoodie. He fucking loved that hoodie. Anyway, the backpack wasn’t that big, so you could imagine the surprise I experienced when he drew a machete from the damn thing.

Not what you’d expect from a serial killer, it wasn’t the Jason Voorhees blood-soaked machete. No, it represented him in this moment. Sharp and curved to a fault, even though it was night, and the blade was black, it seemed to radiate a sort of light. Maybe it represented the light at the end of my tunnel after it plunged into me. 

He nodded towards the door. “Five seconds. I figured out when I killed the captain of the football team that I love it when they try to run.”

At that moment, I realized that I wasn’t his target. No, he wasn’t trying to do something to me, his best friend, as some sort of sick, psychopathic way of preservation or whatever the fuck they think of when they gut the people they got to know over so many years. No, he wanted to slaughter everyone at this party. Every fucking person here will die tonight. 

“Four.” I kicked off of the wooden patio and fumbled with the handle. My hands felt so slippery trying to open that fucking sliding glass door. I threw the thing open as I heard an echoed sound of a two being made. What the fuck happened to three? 

Solo cups scattered across the ground, beer spills were everywhere, hair was frizzed up to the ceiling. 


The last thing I saw was confusion on everyone’s faces before everything went black. Had I died? No, I was still very much alive. He cut the fucking power. I knew my door was about five feet to my right, so I quickly dashed towards the only landmark I cared to remember at this point. I, once again, fumbled with the doorknob before swinging the cheap door open.

Before I could react to anything, yell, or even finish my step out the door, a blackened blade opened up my chest with a diagonal slash, and I fell. All across my abdomen, all I could feel was a searing heat, as if I was the fuel in a bonfire. I gripped the wide slash in a futile attempt to… I don’t know, do something.

I watched way to many movies. I heard splashes of blood, extremities, and, fuck, one time even a head, fall to the floor. All falling to the floor. After the last scream echoed throughout my head (physically, it will always ring throughout my head), light footsteps walked towards me. 

“Hey, buddy.” He said, kneeling down by my side. “Remember when we used to play games? Let’s play one right now.”

I couldn’t move. The pain was too great. I attempted lifting my arm, yet to no avail. He flashed that fucking smile again, the one that plunged into your very fucking soul and took out anything that you held dear to you. His hand moved with the orchestrated speed of an experienced killer as his blade plunged into my hand. He wiggled the blade around for a bit, each movement causing my shriek to become louder.

He withdrew the blade from my hand, but struck in the same general vicinity with a chop that severed three of my fingers. Sounds could not describe the searing heat that coursed throughout my everything. Making sure I could see, plain as day, he closed his jaws down on my severed fingers, chewing on them contently. As he bit down harder, the fingernail on my former index finger shattered. The scumbag before me quivered with pleasure and spit out the fingers.

“Oh yeah, gotta love that crunch.” How does one move from slightly antisocial to psychopathic faster than fucking ludicrous speed? For a moment, he gazed upon my broken body. Then smiled. Again. It never left his face. “I’ll be back soon, but now…”

He looked out the open door and both of us recognized my parent’s car. “Gotham awaits.” He winked and slunk out of the door, closing it behind him.

I laid there, motionless. In a few minutes, a middle-aged woman was about to receive a heart attack. The door opened, and the night light once again poured in. But instead of the shocked actions of my parents, two ball-like things rolled in.

“Happy fucking Halloween.” I gazed into the lifeless eyes of my parent’s severed heads before blacking out. 

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