BrutusThePanda

I can hear them screaming. All of them. Every mother. Every son. Every daughter and her father. Every lover. Every friend. Every strange, unimportant, unneeded, disgusting soul that walks by me. Each and every one of them avoid any form of acknowledgement to my existence like I was dirt on the cement beneath our feet. Their screams fill my head, almost to the point of deafening decibels. They don't know I could hear it, but I can. I can smell the flesh burning off of their skin, and it makes it so hard for me not to smile. I can see the flames, I feel the warmth. They don't feel it, they feel the snow falling around them and the cold December air, but they will feel what I feel for them. They just need to unlock the right doors. Their screams will be heard by everyone, I can hear it.
One girl looks down at me, her eyes are so...saddened. Our glance only lasts a moment before the man beside her kicks snow at me. "Fucking bum." he laughs. That should have angered me, but his screaming overpowered his laughter, and that keeps me calm. The girl looks back at me and mouths "I'm sorry" like that had erased the situation from my memory. It hadn't, of course.  She has the loveliest olive skin I've ever seen, and light blond hair that makes her look like a sun kissed Goddess. Her screaming was painful to my ears. It was very...pained. Not like everyone else. Hers was more victimized than the rest. Hers, I didn't want. But fate had decided for her. People who don't believe in fate don't understand it's true power. They're so...blind. They're avoiding the inevitable. Why? I think it's because the human population has this odd, unreasonable belief that they are Gods in their own way. I've seen the power of a God, and no human can match him. Death is the only God, and no matter what we as humans do, we always see Death when our lives end. I think of myself as a harbinger of Death. I ready the souls of this planet for their arrival to His gates. I'm the doorman for Death's temple.

That girl passed my mind all day. It wasn't the first time I had seen her, she walks down this street daily and nightly. During the day, she usually walks with that man. The tall, bearded red hair man. He's too much muscle, and not enough mind. At night, however, she walks this street a completely different person. Alone. With strangers. In fishnets, a tight shirt. Her make up is heavy and her hair is everywhere. I don't see anything wrong with prostitution, but for someone so youthful and beautiful to waste her life away like that, it hurt my heart. Just on time, tonight she walks by me again, alone right now; she's probably on her way to a clients house. She looks down at me, and we stare into each other's eyes again. This time her eyes are dead, and there was no "sorry" coming from her lips. This time she spit in my face. "Piece of trash" is what she calls me. Her metamorphosis into a harlot drove the God of Death from his temple and into my mind. I can't hear anyone's screams anymore. I can't smell fire. I can't see anyone's flesh burning. I hear my hear beat. I smell the cold air. I see...her. And it's in that moment that I know. Death has taken his leash off of me. I feel his cold, rotting hand let go of my shoulder and he whispers into my ear "Bring her to me" and I do that.
I'm already standing up as she's crossing the street. This part of New York is usually dead around this time of night. I let her gain some distance on me before I start to move. I don't want to play around with her, no. My God has asked for her directly, and I don't want to disappoint him, so I begin to run at her, my hands opened wide. It was only a short moment before they were around her throat. My running impact threw both of us to the ground, but I did not let go of her throat, instead I held on tighter. She tried to let out a scream, which angered me more, so I squeeze harder. I can feel the pulse in her neck rushing, trying to get blood to flow to her brain. It's failing, I know that already. Her hands are flailing in the snow and her feet are kicking underneath me. "You fucking harlot," I say to her, watching tears and snot and drool run off of her face, "you deserve this. He wants you." I change my mind as I see her slipping. This isn't how my God would want her to arrive at his door. No, he enjoys my artwork. So I decide to give him a show. I kneel beside the woman, her hands on her throat and she's coughing at the fresh air entering her lungs. I take one of her hands in mine and I look over her body. Her perfectly olive skin isn't so perfect anymore, it's bruised from my doing. Her hair is a mess of snow and tears and sweat, her fishnet leggings are ripped and her purple tube top is ripped, exposing one of her breasts. I kiss her hand, the one I'm holding, before I fix my grip around her middle finger. Her eyes are locked onto mine again. There's no sorrow, there's no death, this time there's only pain. So I snap the finger entirely off of her hand. She finally lets out a scream. It sounded exactly as I heard it earlier today, but now I love it. I crave it. So I break off her index finger. And then her thumb. I leave the last two and I decide to finish up. She's nearly out cold now so I have to be quick. I want her to feel whats about to happen. I sit her up against the abandoned building we are beside, and I pull out my straight razor. She's now looking everywhere except for at me. You can look wherever you want, my dear, but I'm not moving. I take the razor to the side of her neck and I cut, deep but not lethal. She groans, but doesn't scream. I do the same to the other side. Again she only makes a mumbling sound. Finally, I kneel in front of her, my razor now tucked away in my jacket, and I hold her head with both of my hands, like a bowler getting ready to roll his ball. "He'll greet you with open arms." I say to her. She finally looks at me, confused. I snap her neck. She dies immediately of course, but now I have to get to work on building my art. The hardest part of the process I find, it removing the head. My God does not like the heads to be damaged, as they're the one true part of the human body that expresses real pain. So I pull and I pull until hers is removed.  I place it beside her body, gently before I clean up her hair. She still looks beautiful, surprisingly. And then I pull out my razor, and my bottle of kerosene, and I make art.

After the encounter with Jeff that seemed like a lifetime ago, Madison had begun to change in a drastic way. She quickly destroyed the pig mask that Patrick had made for her, replacing it with a latex wolf mask, identical to her predatory position. After she had slaughtered Jeff with her bare hands, Madison realized that she had nothing left to fear, not even Pigskin; she had become the hellion she used to have nightmares about. Her weapon of choice had also took a change, swapping her knife for a machete she had found on a recent kill. The victim was a hunter named Frank Welson. He was accused of hanging women in the woods when he was on his so-called "hunting trips". If there was one thing that aided Madison in choosing her prey, it was weather or not the chosen was more evil than her. She loved the feeling of the machete as it quickly found its way through Frank's neck, letting it fall to her feet. Madison Grace had suddenly faded from existence, and in the shell of her body lived Salem, the masked demon.
Her newest mark was a man who owned a construction business, Christopher King. At first, he had looked innocent, as if there was no guilty pleasure of his Madison could work with, but he slipped; Madison knew if she had watched King long enough, something would show. It seemed as though Christopher King was part of a local drug ring. From what Madison could tell, he was high up on the chain of command, calling the shots to all of the thugs who sold the drugs. He seemed to traffic any drug he could, varying between cocaine, marijuana, ecstasy, and other assorted paraphernalia. He was a late worker, tending to be the last person to leave the work sight every day. This pleased Madison, because she could choose whichever night she pleased to attack. From the feeling she had tonight, the attack would come shortly within the next few hours.
Madison stood outside of the construction sight, a soon-to-be apartment complex, surveying the scene. It was nearly completed; the outer walls were up now, most of the tractors and trucks had now left. There was a light coming from the top floor. This, Madison figured, was where Christopher was located. He was probably working on finances and other paperwork that needed to be completed before the finishing of the home. Slowly, she began to enter the building. The inside was an assortment of hallways and lobbies, all similar to each other. Soft, wine colored carpet covered the floor. The whole place smelled like a woman's perfume store, which turned Madison's stomach. There was no sound at all, besides the slight creaking beneath her feet. It took a few moments for Madison to find the stairs, but when she did, she stopped at the feet. Grasping the machete in her hand tightly, Madison quickly left the apartment, allowing Salem to enter. When she did, she started to walk up the stairs towards Christopher King. The light began to shine brighter and brighter with each step she rose to him. Finally, after moments of walking the set of stairs, Salem stood at the top. Down the hallway, she could see the light. There was about six doors on each side of the hallway before the opening into the lobby which Christopher now sat, his back towards Salem. Slowly pacing her way towards her prey, the latex mask on Salem's face began to feel like it was her skin. The wolf on the inside slowly morphed into the predator on the outside. Before she could clue in to what was happening, she was behind him.
"Hey." she whispered. Quickly, without hesitation, she swung the machete through Christopher King's neck. As his head hit the ground, Madison noticed something odd. There was no blood. The next instant she knew why. The head that her machete just cut through was a mannequins. Confused, Madison turned. Standing behind her, however, was Christopher King. "So you're Salem." was the last thing she heard before the bottom of the axe in King's hand hit her, before everything went black.
Madison began waking up in a familiar position. She felt like deja vu had taken over her. It took moments for her to realize that her mask was now off, along with her machete wasn't holstered to her. Her hands were tied behind her, which were also tied to her feet. Slowly, everything came into focus. She was laying tied to a bed in one of the hotel rooms. At the foot of her bed sat Christopher King. He was a young man, in his thirties at the latest. He had short dirty blonde hair that reached only to the tip of his ears. His face was solid. He wore a faded pink dress shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, tucked into black dress pants. His hole composure seemed to shine etiquette; he seemed perfectly normal. The only thing that was off about King was the axe he was resting his chin on. Noticing that Madison was starting to wake up, he stood and walked to the side of the bed. "You're finally awake, Madison. Or Salem, is it? Which would you prefer?" the way he spoke to Madison was new. He sounded...interested., "I swear to fuck, you piece of shit I'm going to..." he interrupted her. "You're going to what? Slaughter mill? Behead me? Not to be rude, my dear, but that sounds awfully difficult in your position. I'm not one to be the bearer of bad news, usually, but you might want to look at your surroundings," he rose his arms and spun around, like he was showing off a masterpiece, "you're in my zone. This was my hunt, Madison. Not yours. I knew you were coming for me. I planned on you coming here. I knew our fates would cross, the had to." Madison fought the ropes, trying her hardest to break free. "What the fuck. How? Who even are you?!" a loud, playful laugh came from Christopher. "Wouldn't you love to know. I'll try to start this simply for you. I was normal, when I was younger. I had a loving father, a bitch of a mother, and a fucking monster of a brother. I was left alone to fend for myself after he decided to murder my parents right in front of me..." now it was Madison's turn to interrupt. "So how is any of this my fault? I didn't do a single thing to you, asshole!" anger began to rise in her body. "No, none of this is directly your fault. However, I do need you to be a messenger for me. See...King is just a mask for me. It's my own personal creation, if I dare say. My brother...his was slightly different, as you know." Every word coming from Christopher was confusing Madison more and more. He was throwing her through loops, and she had no choice but to jump through them. "To put it simply, Madison Grace, my name isn't Christopher King." slowly, he walked closer to her. "Then tell me what it is, don't hide behind it. I'm obviously not going anywhere." she laughed. Even in a moment where she could die, Madison did not feel overcome by Christopher. "My name," he began, bending over Madison, his face in hers, "is Christopher Hayden. I'm Patrick's long forgotten brother."
So much more confusion crashed into Madison's body. Patrick had a brother? And he was now preparing to kill her? This was a situation neither Salem or Madison was ready to handle. "You're...Patrick has a..." the word's just would not leave her mouth. "Yes, I'm Patrick's brother. I'm the ever more sadistic brother to the legendary Pigskin. He killed my father. He slaughtered him right in front of me. He laughed while he pushed him onto a meat hook, and laughed more as he cut his face in half. Your loverboy is a monster who's been keeping a pretty dark secret, Maddie." more rage. "Don't you dare fucking call me that." that was the name only meant for Pigskin...or Patrick. Christopher laughed, raising his axe to Madison's throat. "You're a feisty one, I can see why Pat kept you alive now. You must be fun to have around. Too bad for him, that's going to have to change soon." now the axe was raised above Christopher's head. "I have a message for you to give to Patrick. Tell him his brother misses him." with those words, Christopher slammed his axe down.

Jeff released a loud, monstrous howl of pleasure and pain. He watched as Patrick's grip on Madison tightened. The blade slowly began to fall from her hands, until Patrick had it within his free hand. "Stand up." he ordered her to rise. She stood, but not like she was taking the order. She stood as if she were defying Patrick. Anger was growing in Madison. She let Patrick feel on top for the most part, but that was because she needed protection. She needed to feel like Jeff could never get to her. And now she stood beside Jeff's body. Tied and defenseless. Because of her doing. "Jeff's mine," he started to say, before Madison ripped the knife out of his hand. "Like the fuck he's yours. Do you see him right now? I fucking destroyed that sick fuck. He's blood's on my hands." Patrick stood closer to Madison as she spoke. "I could kill you right fucking now." was all he said to her, before turning around and walking towards the doorway. He stopped in between the bedroom and hallway, and turned around, resting against the side of the door. "Let me see how you work." were the last words she heard Patrick say before Madison felt the dried flesh of a pig surround her face.

"I honestly want to thank you, Jeff," Madison began saying, mounting Jeff's broken body again, "for everything you've done. You've pushed me and you've pushed me until I broke. I had some sanity left. Hell, I thought what I let Patrick do was down right insane. But you...you really showed me the monster. You opened up the pits of hell in me. I can't thank you enough." Madison's voice was flat, yet so much evil could be heard underneath the nothingness. Jeff tried to laugh, but the pain overcame him and it turned into an agonizing coughing frenzy. Madison slowly lifted Jeff's face to hers. They stared at each other, face to mask. Jeff could see an empty void that once held nothing but fear. What looked back only saw pain and destruction. It saw a collapsing structure, a defeated purpose. The blade was now placed to Jeff's face, side ways, almost at an angle. Without any words, Madison began to tear the skin off of Jeff's cheek. She peeled off a thick layer of flesh, hearing Jeff's screams grow louder and louder the more she cut. When she finally cut the cheek's flesh off, she began to laugh. "Not so funny now, is it you little prick?" she let out. Madison grabbed Jeff by the throat with one hand, and ripped the mask off of her face with the other. In an instant, she had her lips to his. He could taste her tongue, soft and sweet, massage his. When she rose, her laugh grew. The sound reminded Patrick of Jeff when he would start to attack. He tried to walk closer, but he was so in a trance with the way Madison changed while she started to kill. He saw an innocent girl turn into something just like him, if not more powerful than Patrick, right before his eyes. "Don't you dare call me Madison. She's a privilege you don't get to see anymore. When you see this...this creation....you're looking at your demise. I am the burning fire. I am your end, Jeff. And my name is Salem."

The name rung through Patrick's ears. It's as if it were there all along, but it just stayed in the darkness. When he were ready to kill, he wasn't Patrick anymore. He was a ruthless murderer. He was Pigskin. Just like Madison. He could feel as though she had the same monster within her. The name of the creature was unknown until now. Salem was here. Madison finally let her beast be known. In a motion, everything Salem would be known for had come to life. She threw the blade into Jeff's stomach. Forcefully tearing down to his abdomen, Jeff's body began to convulse in sheer pain. No sound was audible from Salem. Even without the mask on, Patrick could tell who he was looking at was not the Madison Grace he had seen moments before. This was Salem, the killer with an intention. And that was to kill. As Jeff's intestines rose from the gap left in his chest and stomach, Salem rose. Now she eyed Patrick, with the same eyes he had given her.

"Rope. Give me some. Now." Salem walked to Pigskin. "Fuck you." He laughed out to her. She didn't find this funny. Raising her blade to Patrick's throat, she let a growl escape her teeth. "Rope." was all she managed to say. Slowly reaching behind him, Patrick found rope in his pocket. He quickly handed it to the bladed killer. What was this feeling in him? It was fear. It was so beyond unnatural. Patrick had never been afraid. And yet, the thing he helped create nearly just killed him. Turning around, she walked back to the the dying body of Jeff. His body shook and jolted. With precision, the rope was around Jeff's neck. The window that once scared Madison with lightning and tree branches had now become the target of Salem's final action. She quickly tied the rope to the window ledge, keeping it firmly in place. Walking back to Jeff's near lifeless body, she began to lift him. The window was almost too small to fit a body out of, but it was perfect to fit Jeff's. With everything she had for energy, Salem lifted his body out of the window, and released it. As the rope went farther down, she watched until she heard the crack of the end of the drop, and the end of Jeff.

Patrick watched in horror and amazement at everything that had just played out. Jeff was now dead; everything he had built inside of him as a defense now lay in the grassy field outside of Madison's apartment. Salem...or Madison...whoever it was that was now in front of Patrick, eyed him like a predator. She grabbed his throat, pushing him to the wall. Her lips forced themselves to his. When she pulled away, she watched him; a near breathless, excited Patrick. She rose her blade to his face, and without hesitation, cut open his bottom lip. He winced in pain. "You," she began to say, laughing, her face pressed to his so he could feel the warmth of her breath, "you're mine." he grabbed her by the back of the neck, placing his lips to hers now. When he pulled away, she was just as excited. "And you," he stated,"you're still mine."

Madison lay in her bed, shaking in fear. It had been roughly two weeks since the incident with Jeff, and she was not able to shake the mortal fear of his face lurking over her. There was a storm outside, ravaging the trees, pushing them against her window like monstrerous arms. Every smack of thunder startled here, the flashes of lightning keeping her awak. She lay almost motionless, clenching her mask and holding tightly on to her blade. They were her safety for the night. Patrick had made her a skinned pigs mask for her, and gave her a blade similar to his, but more slimmed, like her. They brought upon protection. But would they be enough to stop Jeff? Would they fend off the laughter that would ring through her ears? Within the next flash of light, she saw him standing by her bed. In a quick swing, she felt air. Was she hallucinating? The signs said yes, she was. But her mind would say otherwise. In the next instance, she was held to the bed, defenseless as to what were to come.

She tried to let out a scream but was gagged before that was possible. In the next flash of light, she saw him. She saw the leather jacket. The torn jeans. The mask of flesh. Patrick was on top of her. This lifted her from the darkness, feeling him so close. She lifted her head to his mask, attempting to move it to kiss him, but failed. He pushed her back down, pulling rope out of the back of his jeans. "Now now, don't go wild on me." he said, laughing. "You sick fuck." she mumbled through the gag, laughing back. He tied her hands, and then her legs. Pulling out his blade, Madison could hear his chuckle underneath the mask. He was pleased with her. Sliding his knife in between Madison's legs, sliding it gently up and down, Patrick could hear her breaths become heavier. "I thought you...didn't like being teased, Piggy?" she breathed out. "I don't. Payback, however, I am faithful to." he chuckled, pressing the blade harder against her pants, eventually reaching the zipper. The belt. He sliced it open, like it were his newest prey. She tried to sit up and reach for him, but he grabbed her throat, pushing her to the bed with force. "Not tonight. You're my prey." he growled, unbuttoning her pants, pulling them down and off. She heard the unzipping of his pants, she saw his face come up to hers, his mask off of his beautiful face. She felt his hand tighten around her throat as he entered her. They both let out a gasp of relief. She reached to his face, biting the lower lip. Digging in dip, the blood flowed into her mouth. The copper taste gave her a sensation. He growled in pain, yet it sounded pleased at the pain. Patrick was notorious for pain. And Madison was in love with taking advantage of it. The feeling of him sliding into her intensified as he sped up. Her fingers nailed at his spine as he pressed farther. She could feel him reaching his peak as they look eachother deep in their eyes. The lightning flashed. The thunder boomed. The trees cracked at the window. Madison was almost breathless. The lightning sped up. All she could see above her was the face of the man who could have taken her life. And behind him was a grey sweater. A white face. A smile.A knife.  And beneath the thunder, she could hear the laugh.

Without hesitation, Madison rolled her body and Patrick's away from Jeff, in the same moment as he swung his blade down. Swinging her leg towards him, she felt her foot make contact with his head, knocking him back. They both their clothes back on, and immediately reached for their blades. Madison found hers, but Patrick couldn't find his. Jeff's laugh rose. "Thought you got rid of me, didn't you, Piggys? Well guess what? I'm still here." he shouted over the thunder. "Madison move!" Patrick yelled to her, pushing her away from the action. She fell to a corner, again being forced to watch Patrick fend off Jeff. In an instant, they were a blurred rush. Patrick was swinging his fists, Jeff swinging his knife. They fell into her closet before Patrick through the laughing monster back out, onto the ground. As he walked towards him, Jeff threw his body at Patrick. This threw him backwards, breaking them through the door. At that moment, the thunder stopped, as did the sound around Madison. She was left in blackness, with no sound. After an eternity in the blackness, a jolt of lightning flashed, and she was terrified at the sight. In that moment of light, she saw Jeff. Standing infront of her, laughing. The next thing she knew, he had his hands on her hair, throwing her onto the ground. As she scrambled on her knees, fumbling for anything as defense, she felt Jeffs body as he jumped onto her back. His laugh had changed, like he were playing. "Come on, bitch. You put up a better fight than this before!" He wrapped his arms around her throat and began to squeeze. She could feel the air leaving her, Madison was slipping into nothing. She eyed the door, looking for Patrick. She could see him in the hallway outside of her door. HIs body lay there, almost lifeless. Almost, as she could see his breathing. This told Madison to fight. She knew she would have to fight this battle by her own. But how could she beat Jeff, her greatest fear? She was never afraid of Patrick, and he held a blade to her aswell, intending to kill. But she could feel a soul in him. The monster behind her right now was souless. There was no way she could persuade him. And then she remembered Pigskins last words to her, the first night they had met. "You...you're mine." she couldn't leave him here. She owed him that much. In a moment of adrenaline, she began to rise. She stood. Jeff had kept his legs and arms wrapped around her, but he had failed to see the blade in her hand. With every piece of energy in her, Madison swung down. It penetrated Jeffs thigh, and this made him give out a scream. She lifted it out of him, and swung down in the same area. Again. Again. Again. The leg let go. In a flash, Madison threw the knife to her other hand, and repeated on Jeffs good leg. In moments he let go, but still hung on with his arms. Madison looked into the hallway just in time to see Patrick starting to stir. This was a good sign. But she hadn't let it distract her too much, she was ready to finish Jeff. Without thinking, she dropped to the ground. This made Jeff let go as pure agony rung through his body. His body sprawled on the ground, shaking in pain. Trying to reach for his knife, Madison kicked it out of Jeff's reach. "Not this time you sick fuck." She lifted him up, sitting him up infront of the bed. She found the rope Patrick had used on her, and began tying Jeff in the natural fashion. He began to laugh, for a moment, Madison hit her fist off of his face, stopping his laughter.

Patrick was finally standing on his feet, disoriented. The sight he saw when he entered the bedroom was unbelievable. Jeff was tied, with perfect precision on Madisons bed. There was blood covering his pants. His eyes showed fear, agony, pain. But what his eyes were looking at is what shocked him. Madison was on top of Jeff, laughing. "Squeal for me, you little fuck." she hollered. She raised the blade as far as she could, and swung down. Her arms didn't reach Jeff, however. They were stopped in motion by a hand grabbing her wrists. In shock, Madison turned her head to Patrick, however that's not who she had seen. She was looking in the eyes of Pigskin. She saw the serial killer from the first night on this bed. His hand squeezed her wrists, making her drop the knife. Patrick had stopped Jeff from dying. They're eyes didn't move, their vision staying on each other. In this moment, this miniscule moment in time, as their eyes gazed upon eachother, Madison knew what Pigskin was planning to do. And she knew she would not be able to stop him. Not this time.

Madison lay in her bed, shaking in fear. It had been roughly two weeks since the incident with Jeff, and she was not able to shake the mortal fear of his face lurking over her. There was a storm outside, ravaging the trees, pushing them against her window like monstrerous arms. Every smack of thunder startled here, the flashes of lightning keeping her awak. She lay almost motionless, clenching her mask and holding tightly on to her blade. They were her safety for the night. Patrick had made her a skinned pigs mask for her, and gave her a blade similar to his, but more slimmed, like her. They brought upon protection. But would they be enough to stop Jeff? Would they fend off the laughter that would ring through her ears? Within the next flash of light, she saw him standing by her bed. In a quick swing, she felt air. Was she hallucinating? The signs said yes, she was. But her mind would say otherwise. In the next instance, she was held to the bed, defenseless as to what were to come.

She tried to let out a scream but was gagged before that was possible. In the next flash of light, she saw him. She saw the leather jacket. The torn jeans. The mask of flesh. Patrick was on top of her. This lifted her from the darkness, feeling him so close. She lifted her head to his mask, attempting to move it to kiss him, but failed. He pushed her back down, pulling rope out of the back of his jeans. "Now now, don't go wild on me." he said, laughing. "You sick fuck." she mumbled through the gag, laughing back. He tied her hands, and then her legs. Pulling out his blade, Madison could hear his chuckle underneath the mask. He was pleased with her. Sliding his knife in between Madison's legs, sliding it gently up and down, Patrick could hear her breaths become heavier. "I thought you...didn't like being teased, Piggy?" she breathed out. "I don't. Payback, however, I am faithful to." he chuckled, pressing the blade harder against her pants, eventually reaching the zipper. The belt. He sliced it open, like it were his newest prey. She tried to sit up and reach for him, but he grabbed her throat, pushing her to the bed with force. "Not tonight. You're my prey." he growled, unbuttoning her pants, pulling them down and off. She heard the unzipping of his pants, she saw his face come up to hers, his mask off of his beautiful face. She felt his hand tighten around her throat as he entered her. They both let out a gasp of relief. She reached to his face, biting the lower lip. Digging in dip, the blood flowed into her mouth. The copper taste gave her a sensation. He growled in pain, yet it sounded pleased at the pain. Patrick was notorious for pain. And Madison was in love with taking advantage of it. The feeling of him sliding into her intensified as he sped up. Her fingers nailed at his spine as he pressed farther. She could feel him reaching his peak as they look eachother deep in their eyes. The lightning flashed. The thunder boomed. The trees cracked at the window. Madison was almost breathless. The lightning sped up. All she could see above her was the face of the man who could have taken her life. And behind him was a grey sweater. A white face. A smile.A knife.  And beneath the thunder, she could hear the laugh.

Without hesitation, Madison rolled her body and Patrick's away from Jeff, in the same moment as he swung his blade down. Swinging her leg towards him, she felt her foot make contact with his head, knocking him back. They both their clothes back on, and immediately reached for their blades. Madison found hers, but Patrick couldn't find his. Jeff's laugh rose. "Thought you got rid of me, didn't you, Piggys? Well guess what? I'm still here." he shouted over the thunder. "Madison move!" Patrick yelled to her, pushing her away from the action. She fell to a corner, again being forced to watch Patrick fend off Jeff. In an instant, they were a blurred rush. Patrick was swinging his fists, Jeff swinging his knife. They fell into her closet before Patrick through the laughing monster back out, onto the ground. As he walked towards him, Jeff threw his body at Patrick. This threw him backwards, breaking them through the door. At that moment, the thunder stopped, as did the sound around Madison. She was left in blackness, with no sound. After an eternity in the blackness, a jolt of lightning flashed, and she was terrified at the sight. In that moment of light, she saw Jeff. Standing infront of her, laughing. The next thing she knew, he had his hands on her hair, throwing her onto the ground. As she scrambled on her knees, fumbling for anything as defense, she felt Jeffs body as he jumped onto her back. His laugh had changed, like he were playing. "Come on, bitch. You put up a better fight than this before!" He wrapped his arms around her throat and began to squeeze. She could feel the air leaving her, Madison was slipping into nothing. She eyed the door, looking for Patrick. She could see him in the hallway outside of her door. HIs body lay there, almost lifeless. Almost, as she could see his breathing. This told Madison to fight. She knew she would have to fight this battle by her own. But how could she beat Jeff, her greatest fear? She was never afraid of Patrick, and he held a blade to her aswell, intending to kill. But she could feel a soul in him. The monster behind her right now was souless. There was no way she could persuade him. And then she remembered Pigskins last words to her, the first night they had met. "You...you're mine." she couldn't leave him here. She owed him that much. In a moment of adrenaline, she began to rise. She stood. Jeff had kept his legs and arms wrapped around her, but he had failed to see the blade in her hand. With every piece of energy in her, Madison swung down. It penetrated Jeffs thigh, and this made him give out a scream. She lifted it out of him, and swung down in the same area. Again. Again. Again. The leg let go. In a flash, Madison threw the knife to her other hand, and repeated on Jeffs good leg. In moments he let go, but still hung on with his arms. Madison looked into the hallway just in time to see Patrick starting to stir. This was a good sign. But she hadn't let it distract her too much, she was ready to finish Jeff. Without thinking, she dropped to the ground. This made Jeff let go as pure agony rung through his body. His body sprawled on the ground, shaking in pain. Trying to reach for his knife, Madison kicked it out of Jeff's reach. "Not this time you sick fuck." She lifted him up, sitting him up infront of the bed. She found the rope Patrick had used on her, and began tying Jeff in the natural fashion. He began to laugh, for a moment, Madison hit her fist off of his face, stopping his laughter.

Patrick was finally standing on his feet, disoriented. The sight he saw when he entered the bedroom was unbelievable. Jeff was tied, with perfect precision on Madisons bed. There was blood covering his pants. His eyes showed fear, agony, pain. But what his eyes were looking at is what shocked him. Madison was on top of Jeff, laughing. "Squeal for me, you little fuck." she hollered. She raised the blade as far as she could, and swung down. Her arms didn't reach Jeff, however. They were stopped in motion by a hand grabbing her wrists. In shock, Madison turned her head to Patrick, however that's not who she had seen. She was looking in the eyes of Pigskin. She saw the serial killer from the first night on this bed. His hand squeezed her wrists, making her drop the knife. Patrick had stopped Jeff from dying. They're eyes didn't move, their vision staying on each other. In this moment, this miniscule moment in time, as their eyes gazed upon eachother, Madison knew what Pigskin was planning to do. And she knew she would not be able to stop him. Not this time.