Rules, Star Wars and two bedtime storybooks.
I woke up the next morning in the dark, to find my bedroom window had been boarded shut. I sighed and pulled myself out of bed, deciding a much needed shower wouldn’t be too risky, and took a short one. When I got out I dressed in a black cotton shift type dress and walked downstairs cautiously. I was now rooming with what I suspected was a Professional Serial Killer, and I was far from ready to trust him. I snuck into the kitchen and saw that he had prepared breakfast for me. It was a glass of orange juice and a thick waffle with cream and blueberries on top. Right, so the murderer that was keeping me captive in my own house was a gourmet chef too? I gulped down the juice with two painkillers for my neck, and picked the blueberries off the waffle and ate them. I walked to the lounge room, and found a note on the table. “Feel free to do whatever you want. I’m outside working on a project, and I’ll be back in around 2. xo.” I put it back down. This guy was a psychopath. I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Living in the mountains, so far out, we only got one channel. And it was a news channel. So usually when we went into town, we splurged on videos. We must have had over 500. I went to the cabinet and pulled out the first one I saw, which turned out to be a Star Wars. I pushed it into the VCR and settled myself on the couch, with my favourite throw-rug keeping me warm. I watched it emotionlessly, vaguely thinking that I was a lot like Princess Leia, and Gerard was my Jabba The Hut. I giggled at the thought of me in her skimpy slave outfit, chained to a fat, drooling Gerard with a long, flailing tongue. Later, after the movie had finished, and I had just lay there on the lounge for hours, Gerard came in. “Hi Adrienne. How are you?” He asked timidly, as though he was my classmate rather than my captive. “Fine.” I said coldly. He looked slightly hurt, and walked into the kitchen. I heard the fridge open and close, and then the oven. He came back in and sat down next to me. I looked at him and asked “How old are you?” he raised his eyebrows and said “22. You?” I shrugged. “Come on Adie.” I winced at the shortened name “I’m 17.” He looked surprised “You look older.” I shrugged, and he sighed. “So, wanna watch a movie?” I had been planning to go straight to sleep, but I wanted to see what was up with this leaving at 9 business, so I said “Ok. I don’t care what. Videos are in that cabinet” I motioned with my hand. He nodded and rummaged through the cabinet, coming back with 5 videos. “Nightmare on Elm Streets…” He said contentedly. He liked horror movies. Go figure. I guess he could relate to the killers. That made me feel uneasy, so I sat up and straightened my back as he turned on the TV and pushed in the video. The next few hours went by in silence, except for the phoney screams of the movie. The movie didn’t hold my interest at all. I guess horror movies lose their edge once you’ve lived it. Considering this, I shot a reproachful glare at Gerard, who was to into the movie to notice. The 3rd one ended and he looked at his watch. I quickly shut my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I felt his hand stroking my cheek, my hair, my lips, before a spring in the lounge and creak of the floorboards told me he had left the room. I squinted my eyes open, but he wasn’t In sight, so I clasped them shut and listened. It sounded like he was packing a bag. There were metal things going in there… He loaded a gun (I gulped) and then he came back out. “I love you Adie…” He whispered, before kissing my forehead and walking to the front door, and then leaving. As soon as he was gone I jumped up and started my search for his stuff. He was sleeping in my parents’ room, god that made me sick. Only clothes and shit in there. I looked through every room in the house, and I didn’t find anything. I walked downstairs, defeated, and noticed two notebook type things sitting on the counter. I picked them up. One was a sketchbook, and one..,. A scrapbook. I looked through the sketchbook slowly, seeing detailed and very good drawings of mangled corpses, with names and addresses underneath. Sometimes just names and addressed. Whole pages of names and addresses, a few times. I was getting to the end, where I saw a picture of me. It was very nicely drawn, but sent a chill down my spine. It was me on the floor outside my bedroom, where I had collapsed. I turned the page to find more pictures of me, asleep, sitting down, standing up… Pictures of just my lips or eyes or hands or legs, my name written over and over. I slammed the book shut and moved on to the next one, opening it slowly. There was nothing on the first few pages, but then a postcard with a photo of Chicago on the front, a whole bunch of names, and to my absolute horror, actual photos of mangled corpses. Some matched the drawings, but there were so many… And so many more names, all with crosses through them. I skipped most pages, feeling sick, till I got to the last page. Tears sprang to my eyes as I saw the photos of my dead family and their names, all crossed out except mine. Mine had a big red circle around it. I looked at where there had been a family photo, but I was torn out of it. I had to get out of this house.
Yeah... Is this worth continuing guys?