Gorehound |-/ Joshler

Chapter Four: Crocodile Tears

"Joshua wasn't the most dedicated of parishioners, but he was still a good man. I haven't seen him in church for a couple of days and...and I'm afraid that something's happened to him."

Tyler wiped away a tear with the back of his cardigan sleeve. "What with Winnie and Jessica disappearing, and now him..."

The police officer nodded sorrowfully, taking down the information on the paperwork. "And you said that he was one of your parishioners?"

Tyler nodded.

"Did he seem to not get along with anyone? Any of the other parishioners?"

Tyler held back a smirk as he thought back to the questions that Joshua himself had asked him two days ago upon coming into his house.

"He was very polite, very quiet. He came to pray and give thanks, nothing more."

"Alright..." The officer wrote down a side note. "We'll find him, okay? And we'll find those two women."

"Thank you, thank you," Tyler fake-sobbed, his hands reaching out and covering hers. Her face immediately flushed red, assumedly because an attractive young man was holding her hands.

"Have a blessed day." He said to her, standing up and shaking her hands in his light grip. She smiled up at him before remembering that she was on the job, and instead gave him a firm nod.

He left the annex of the police department in a totally different mood; stoic-faced rather than weepy.

Leaving the building, he picked at his nails to remove any traces of blood. He had noticed them in the department earlier and was too busy planning the night ahead to do something about it.

He got in his car and drove to the local supermarket, buying two frozen dinners and a package of Sharpie markers. At checkout, he gave a sickly-sweet smile to the woman behind the counter.

"Joshua must be a hungry little piggy," he murmured to himself as he carried the small paper bag of his purchases out the car. "I think I'll feed him after the marking."

Joshua spent the entire day curled up into a ball on the musty floor of the basement, trying his best to ignore the gnawing in his stomach and the shattered cleaver pieces that lie on the floor.

He thought about hiding one in his palm and striking Tyler down when he came back. But the thought was quickly pushed away when he remembered that he would have no way of getting out of his chains.

Head to the hard floor, Joshua felt tears roll down his face. He had long since forgotten to recount them, seeing as how he could spend the rest of his impossibly short life down in the basement.

It was humid down there, with the tantalizing drip, drip, drip of water somewhere around him. Everything reeked of blood and putrefaction, making Joshua not wish to see what lie beyond the single, naked bulb's beam.

Everything was enshrouded in darkness: the basement, the staircase, his heart. He had no hope of escaping.

Another growl ate away at Joshua's stomach; there was a roiling heat accompanying the bite of the hunger now.

The thought of food plagued Joshua's mind. Would he ever eat again? Would Tyler starve him until he withered away to nothing, then...eat his stringy, malnourished flesh? 

Suddenly, a crackling of speakers could be heard. A high pitch whine followed, making Joshua nestle his chin further into his chest.

A choir of rich baritone voices began singing in Latin, joined by a slightly higher pitched group. Then, it broke out into a cacophony of instruments being paired with the choir.