June 13th, 2014:
Brandon and I were supposed to be heading to Spain for our honeymoon today. Instead I'm sat in a holding cell, awaiting my transfer to a 'Secure Psychiatric Institution'. Yesterday I was told why I'm here. I was found running down the street in a torn, paint smeared wedding dress. I was taken to the police station to explain why I was that way while two officers went to my house. When they arrived, they found a trail of black footprints leading up to our room, my footprints. They had to show me pictures of the room, and I still don't believe it's real. The room was covered in abstract strokes of black paint strokes. The window had blood splattered across it, I guess that's why the leaves were red. But the worst of it, was the corpse that lay front and center. Brandon had been mutilated, but not in the way I remember. In the pictures, Brandon has X shaped stab wounds where the ropes had been as well as his eyes. A Chelsea grin adorned his face, accompanied by smears of black paint down the side of his face. Not even five feet to the right of him laid a torn, bloody tuxedo. The final adornment to the gruesome crime scene; a bloody wedding ring, thrown carelessly to the side. The officers said there was a blood smeared butchers knife hidden in the back yard, but how did it get there? I've tried telling them my story, but no one will believe me. They're saying I had some sort of psychotic break, but I never stopped taking my meds! I've got to go now, it's time to transfer.
YOU ARE READING
The Man Behind The Mask
HorrorIs it a human, or is it a monster? Or is it simply a manifestation of our darkest desires? Whatever it may be, one thing is for sure; once you encounter it, your life will never be the same.
