Face your Demons

Chapter 4- Hillside Police Station

Eventually George began to make his way into the abandoned dilapidated town. Lighting struck and began to fall. The man scowled and ran a hand through his slicked hair. Suddenly, he heard a high pitched pant coming from behind him. He turned around quickly, and stared into the fog, a woman's silhouette was approaching. But there was something wrong, very wrong with her. Knives and daggers stuck out of her back and there was a black bag over her face, her form was naked and smeared with blood.

“Ma’am. You need help?” he asked dumbly. Of course she needed help, he thought. She came closer and struck the officer, he tumbled back and drew his gun while the feminine creature panted and moaned. Sewell stepped back and shot three shots into the monster. She dropped to the ground and twitched as she died. George was panting harshly, amplifying the pain in his lungs. “What the fuck is going on here?” he asked aloud. Rain beat down on him again, soaking his now dirty uniform, blood streamed from his cheek, pooling in the hollows as it dripped down. In the distance he could hear more moaning. These aren’t women, these are monsters, like from story books he thought as he gazed around frantically for shelter. Limping as he ran he slid into the wall of what he identified as the police station. Breathing a pained sigh of relief. He holstered his gun and leaned against the brick wall as he caught his breath. He cold heart pounded, and his dark, corrupted blood flowed faster in his veins.

That was when he spotted something lying on the floor, a piece of paper. He knelt down and picked it up. The contents angered him and he bunched up the paper and threw it as far as he could. “What is going on, who are you and why?” he screamed in a painful breath. The man dropped to his knees and lit a cigarette. “I know, I was a bad husband,” he muttered. Tears, a foreign sensation welled in his eyes as he remembered his wife. She was the one that turned him into a monster, but she was also the only person that ever loved him. When she wasn’t belittling and degrading George, she was sickly sweet and baked and fuck like a rabbit on ecstasy. There were more bad times than good times. She was bitter and rude more often than not, and over time she wore down the once decent man and turned him into the monster he had become. “Then again you did treat me like shit,” he justified as he stood back up and wiped the dust and ash from his pants. He puffed on his cigarette a few more times, allowing the nicotine to hit his bloodstream in a delightful caress. He spit out the butt ans crushed it underfoot before he explored the rest of the cryptic station. A gaping hole in the center of the building made most of the place inaccessible, but inside a small room, among dusty boxes, the injured man found several clips of ammo and a first aid kit. He closed the door and removed his dirty uniform shirt to bandage the wound on his shoulder. The scratches were deep and blood beaded on his pale skin. Hastily he bandaged himself as best as he could before he shrugged the pale blue shirt on his shoulders and buttoned it expertly while wearing his leather gloves.

Slowly he emerged from the small room and squeezed through the opening in the wall. The rain had stopped and the creatures seems to be gone. Sewell wandered through the streets, his black heart pounding in his ears, his lungs painfully inhaling and exhaling while he searched for what ever it was he needed to find.

On the balcony of a small home he found a make shift bridge that ran across a piece of the broken road. Calmly George walked, heel to toe over the shaky structure into an apartment building. He didn’t know what he was looking for anymore, he just knew that he needed to be here, and that there was something he needed to discover. Quietly he walked through the cluttered apartment before he made his way to the door. Curiously he decided to check every room before he left. As he slowly opened the door to apartment 4, he saw something that made his breath hitch. In the middle of the dusty, grim living room a beautiful young brunette was undressing. She pulled off a black chiffon dress, which revealed her black undergarments. George stood in the door frozen, aching with pain and desire. She removed the bra and revealed smooth, round breasts. The officer bit his lip perversely and swung open the door, but in that instant she was gone. Nothing remained but her discarded clothes. Anxiously Sewell checked the rooms looking for the mysterious woman but found nothing. He was frustrated, confused and beginning to feel the dreaded emotion, fear.

Had he really seen that? Or was it his imagination. The corrections officer chalked it up to his head injury and continued to explore the empty building before he headed to the front hallway. Discarded mail sat sadly on the ground, some discolored by time. They served as reminders of he past, of things forgotten.

George stopped and stared at the envelopes as memories flooded the apex of his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shut them out, he couldn’t. He was manifesting his own private hell, and this was just the beginning.