The Freakshow Massacre

18.

Marty's hand latched onto the handle of the driver's door. The metal handle was cold against his hot, sweaty palm. As he held on, the heat from his hand transferred to the metal and fogged up the highly polished surface of the handle. He pulled it open, (outwards) to find the car door unlocked.

Opening the door, Marty said: "Marcia! Quick! Get in from this side! It's unlocked!"

Marcia didn't waste a second to think as she complied. She hurried over to the driver's side of the car and dived inside before crawling over to the front passenger seat. Marty got in too. He sat in the driver's seat and shut the door, locking it as quick as he could. His fingers wrapped around the car key (within the ignition slot) and he made an attempt to turn it clockwise.

But he couldn't turn it properly. His fingers were numb and weak. With the massive volumes of adrenaline being pumped throughout his body, Marty couldn't feel the key when he touched it. nevertheless, he continued to try turning the car key...but his attempts were in vain.

As Marty did this, he started to worry and panic...wondering what would happen if he failed to start the car. The clowns would eventually catch up and kill them. He would fail again. Just like he'd already done. This was their one last chance to escape...he wasn't going to blow it. He needed to be able to escape and get themselves out of hell. No way was he going to give up.

Marty continued to fumble with the car key, all the while Marcia felt her heart hammering faster and faster, pounding against her ribcage. She was scared that Marty wasn't going to be able to start the car and as a result they'd be left there to perish. Pinky was already in the car park, she could easily murder the two of them within seconds. Unless Marty could start up the car and drive away, they were going to be the next homicide victims.

Marcia wanted to scream at Marty. She wanted to hit him or throw something at him. She wanted to yell at him...to hurry up and stop messing around. But she knew that there was no point. It was immature, pointless and futile. It'd compound the 'already miserable situation' and do nothing but make Marty stressed (more so). It'd be the worst outcome. She decided that it would be much easier to stay calm. It was not like she had any other option.

Suddenly, without any warning, something smashed the passenger side glass where Marcia was seated. Shards of glass smashed into different irregular shapes before plummeting towards the foot-well areas of the car and also spraying out into the car park. The sound of the glass landing onto the car-park gravelled pavement seemed to echo. Simultaneously, Marcia let out a blood curdling scream and as she'd covered her face with her arms, a few shards of glass were embedded just below her forearms skin.

Marcia pulled her arms away from her face while trying her best not to lose it. She examined her forearms to see that they were bloodied and had begun to sting. She looked out her smashed car window only to observe Pinky standing there with a distorted insidious grin. Her pale white fist was raised and blood was trickling down her arm. Pinky vanished from sight as quickly as she appeared. Marty and Marcia glanced at each other; both looking frightened.

"Where did she go?" Marcia questioned.

"I...I don't know!" Marty stammered.

They both began looking out through all the windows to spot the pink-haired clown. But as hard as they tried, they couldn't see her. It was as though Pinky had disappeared into the night.

Akin to an aftermath of an apocalyptic scene, the car park was desolate and silent...void of any souls. But as empty as it seemed, Marty and Marcia knew that Pinky wasn't really gone. She was still out there. Pinky was messing around with the both of them, playing mind-games.