The Hook

8

As Janice was forcibly woken up from the nightmare, her bloodcurdling scream traveled with her into the waking world. She knew she had been dreaming, but she just wanted to stay awake now. She wanted to stay awake until she opened her eyes.

As her eyes opened, she saw Dean's head.

It was being held over her by the hair, gripped tightly by a large, calloused hand. It was moving back and forth in the air, the grotesque lips touching hers each time it did. Janice screamed again.

Suddenly the head was thrown across the room and hit the wall with a wet, sickening splat. Now Janice was face to face with the killer. He looked directly into her eyes and said, "Go ahead and scream all you want, pretty girl. No one can hear you." His lips curved into a sinister smile as tears began to well up in Janice's eyes.

She looked him dead in the face, determined not to cry, and said, "Fuck you."

With that, she raised up one knee in a jerking motion, hitting him right where it counted. The killer grabbed onto his now-aching privates and fell sideways onto the floor. Janice heard his head hit the hardwood with a dull thud.

Acting quickly, Janice jumped up and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She was panting, gasping for precious air, and trying to get her clouded brain to think of something.

How did he find me, she thought, and what the fuck do I do now?

That thought dissolved as she heard the knob on the door turning. She ran into the other room, hoping that Matt and Meagan could help her. She pushed the door open and screamed again.

She saw Matt lying on the bed, his face frozen in shock and pain and fear all wrapped into one. The point of a sharpened screwdriver jutted from the center of his throat. The killer had taken the coward's position and killed him from under the bed. Janice's face was drenched in tears now.

Wait, she thought, suddenly snapping out of her hysteria, why didn't he use his hook? Holy fuck, the son of a bitch must've left it stuck in the car.

She knew that she had to act fast. She ran from the room just as the killer was stumbling out of her bedroom, his hand still gripping his crotch. The stump where the hook had been was being used as a means of keeping his balance; resting on the wall each time he took a step.

Janice could only look at him for a moment before a small voice in the back of her head finally said, run.

She ran as fast as her legs could carry her down the stairs and into the living room. She looked around for a few seconds, but then stopped at the wall under the stairs. When she saw what was there, she could only utter the words, "Oh... oh, god... Jesus H. Fucking Christ."

Meagan was staring at her, suspended from the wall. Her arms were outstretched, and her feet were touching. It was as if she had been crucified. Impaling both of her hands and her feet were large knives from the kitchen, and her throat had been cut open so deep that Janice could see the bone.

That bastard, she thought, that motherfucker. I'll kill him, goddamn it.

Just as Janice had this thought, the killer appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a crazed look in his wide, manic eyes. He looked at her and said, "You ready to join her, bitch?" That's when Janice ran.

She ran straight to the front door, the killer close behind her. As she opened the door and stepped outside, he grabbed her by the hair and started pulling her back in. She felt a burning pain in her scalp as the killer continued pulling and pulling.

She had to act fast. She ducked down, pulling the killer with her. She turned around quickly and he let go of her, reaching with his hand to grab her throat. Reacting quicker than she ever had in her life, Janice jumped up, raised her foot, and kicked him right in the gut. He let out a pained cry as she ran out the door and slammed it behind her, smashing his face with it.

Janice ran to the car, happy to see that the hook was still there; lodged in the door she had been sitting behind. She tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't budge. It was stuck so deep in the metal of the door that it couldn't move at all.

She kept pulling as hard as he could on the hook, hoping and praying that it would release itself from the door before it was too late.

All of a sudden, she heard the front door of the house burst open and saw the killer walk outside, stumbling more than he had before.

She pulled and tugged on the hook. Nothing. It didn't give at all.

The killer was getting closer, nearly falling as he limped toward her.

She tugged harder, harder. Still nothing.

He was closer now, halfway there. There were flames of anger in his eyes.

She pulled as hard as her strained body would allow. Finally she felt it move just a little.

He was almost to her. His stump rested on his still-throbbing gut.

She pulled, and the hook was finally starting to come out of the door ever so slowly.

He was so close that she could smell the stench of congealed blood on his clothes. His hand gripped his face, crimson blood flowing from his possibly broken nose.

She almost had it out now. Just a little more tugging and it would be free.

He was there now. He removed his hand from his face and blood gushed from his nose. He reached out to grab at her throat.

Just as the tips of his fingers brushed her neck, the hook slid out of the hole it had made in the car door. She raised it above her head and watched the killer try to back away. She brought it down with every last ounce of strength that she was able to muster, and it pierced right through the top of his head. Blood squirted from the wound as he looked at her in surprise. There was still blood dripping from his nose as he fell to his knees, uttering a dying whimper as he went down. He opened his mouth and blood poured from between his lips. His eyes rolled back in his skull and his body toppled to the ground with a deep thudding sound.

Janice did nothing for about a minute. Then she finally let loose all of the emotion that had been building up inside. She collapsed onto the ground into the fetal position, her back leaning against the car. She put her head between her knees and let all of the tears she had been holding back fall from her tired, bloodshot eyes.

When the police showed up, having received a call from one of the neighbors about the screaming, that's how they found her. She was still bawling as they rushed out of their car and over to her, asking her questions that she didn't think she knew how to answer.

That was how the night ended for Janice. What had started as an innocent date at the movies had turned into the most horrific night she had ever experienced. Two of her best friends and the man she loved were dead, and she had been forced to take the life of another human being. She was never the same after that, and neither was the small town that she called home.