Demons (Evil Dead Fic)

Prologue

Oh God...please God kill me...somebody, anybody...

On the road, out in practically the middle of nowhere, a figure can be seen, slowly limping down the road. The figure, a woman, shivers as she hugs her arms to her body, matted brunette hair sticking to her pale skin. Dark crimson drips down from her hair to the pavement, leaving a trail of blood behind her. Shakily, she breathes deeply, exhaling through her chattering teeth. She licks her dry, cracked lips, gulping. Fire tears through her throat as a result.

Finally, she has no more strength. Her toes turned in, the woman roughly falls to her knees, tears silently and unwillingly falling from her reddened eyes. Blankly staring at the road beneath her, she lifts her left arm to her face, attempting to use her hand to wipe away the tears and blood.

It's not surprising when she realizes, instead of a hand, she comes face-to-face with a bloody stump. Bone sticks out of the area where one of her limbs should be, and dark crimson still leaks from the wound, but surprisingly it doesn't phase her. The pain, the stench of blood, none of that shocks her anymore. From what she's just been through, nothing will scare her ever again. Nothing.

In the distance, two headlights are seen, approaching closer and closer to her. She flinches slightly, though doesn't make an attempt to move. Instead she just stays there, unmoving, ready to accept death. The engine of the car grows louder as the vehicle drives towards her, moving at a fast enough speed that it should at least vitally harm her. Closing her eyes, she curls her body up into a fetal position, bracing herself for the hard blow. The roaring of the engine fills her ears, and she thinks any minute that it's going to happen. That the metal will hit her, colliding with her skull hard enough to hopefully end her.

But just as she thinks the sound will deafen her, it comes to a halt. The woman furrows her eyebrows, her tensed muscles relaxing. Listening intently, she realizes that the car is no longer moving. Either it's turned around, or stopped before it hit her. Because whether she likes it or not, she isn't dead.

Please, lord, please...

Slowly, very slowly, she opens her eyes. If she weren't in a state of shock, she would've jumped back in surprise. The front of the car is a mere foot from her face, her image barely seen in its reflective, metal rim. A clicking sound alerts her attention, her head jerking to the side to spot the door opening. Stepping out of the car is a man, looking somewhere in his early thirties, gazing upon the woman with furrowed eyebrows. What spikes her interest is the fact that it's out of curiosity, not quite horror.

Kill me...

The stranger walks towards her shivering form, crouching down beside her. Hesitantly, he brings his hand down upon her shoulder, surprised at just how cold her skin is. She doesn't even quite register that she's being touched. Everything has become so numb to her, it's almost as if she can't feel anymore. The pain from losing her hand? The ache of bruises, cuts and most likely broken bones? Gone. She can't even process her thoughts correctly.

I'm so sorry, everyone...

"Hey..." the man mutters, moving his one hand from her shoulder to her hair. She knows he's trying to comfort her. Probably. She thinks so, anyway. This time she tries to force words out, to let him know she can hear him.

"C-C-ab...in..." she breathes, nearly choking on her own words. Realization crosses the stranger's face then, and he gently turns her body to face him.

"Cabin?" he asks in disbelief. "What cabin?"

She can't move. She can't talk. All strength is fading from her. Moving the bloody stump from her body and lowering it to rest on her knees, she breaks down, tears flowing in streams down her cheeks. She hears him gasp, most likely at the sight of her severely injured arm. But she doesn't care. She just wants to get far away from here.

"Kill...away...h-help..."

"Hey, hey..."

His arm reaches under hers, lifting her to her feet as her sobs grow louder. Helping her to the passenger's seat door, he places her inside, not caring about the blood that stains the seat, or his shirt. As soon as he buckles her in, she passes out due to the blood loss from her amputated hand. Panic fills him as he watches her eyelids droop, her mind drifting into unconsciousness. He feels for her wrist, applying light pressure, feeling for a pulse. He can't feel anything at first, but after a moment or so, he can feel it - though it's weak. Walking back around, he hurriedly jumps into the driver's side and turns his car around, speeding down the road.

Far away from that place.

***

(Wow, first chapter FanFic I've done in a while. The Evil Dead is my current obsession, so I just decided to write this little thing that came to mind! As always, read and review, the first chapter will be coming out soon!)