Survivor by Carter-Orange
Chapter 1 by Carter-Orange

Survivor

 

 

Thanksgiving - a time of year when we are all supposed to reflect upon what we are thankful for. But what exactly have I got to be thankful for this year?

That’s the question I ask myself all the time these days, and the answer is usually something along the lines of “not a lot”. I’ve been through hell and back since last Thanksgiving. But as I sat at the dining room table in my mom’s house, ready for Thanksgiving dinner, I began to go over the year’s events. I realised that maybe I should be thankful that I’m still here.

It could’ve been a lot worse…

 

~*~

 

“Please…let me go and find my friend, I won’t tell anyone, I swear” I pleaded, my voice so strained, I wasn’t sure he could actually hear me.

“Oh, you will ‘find’ your friend soon enough” he said and powered up the drill.

“No” I screamed, trying to shrink away from the maniac wielding the electric drill “please…please don’t” I begged, not ashamed of the tears which were spilling from my eyes and dripping onto the dirty concrete floor.

“But where would the fun be if I stopped?” he waved the drill in front of my face, so close it could almost feel it. I couldn’t help it, but I pissed my pants with fear.

“Oh god…please…don’t do this…” I cried.

But the tears and pleading had no effect on my torturer; he was impervious to human emotion.

The drill pierced my left knee cap and I howled with pain as he plunged the drill in and out, making the hole bigger while all I could do was hang there from that meat hook like a pig in a slaughter house. He grinned and moved on to the next leg, all the while I begged him to stop, trying to twist away from him but failing miserably. I just didn’t have the energy.

“Nooooo” I screamed when he held the drill to my face and widened his eyes like a little kid on Christmas morning.

“You’re right…enough of the drill. There are so many more tools to choose from” he turned and walked towards the array of instruments of torture hung up for his disposal.

I couldn’t see what he was doing very clearly as the light was so dim, but he was clattering around with something. I didn’t want to think about what was coming next. Was this what had happened to Nick? Was he lying mutilated and dead somewhere in this god forsaken place?

The maniac turned back to me, chainsaw in hand.

“Now this is going to be so much fun!” he laughed as he waved it in the air for effect before slicing off my right foot.

“Mother fucker!” I howled in agony as I watched him kick the dismembered foot out of the way. It was fair to say I’d never felt pain like it. I just wanted him to hurry up and kill me and put me out of my misery. “Just do it man, fucking kill me already…quit fucking around”.

“If I wanted that, I wouldn’t have come here. I could do that anywhere. No…my way is better” he mused.

If losing my foot wasn’t bad enough, what happened next was just barbaric. With something that looked like a rusty ice cream scooper, he made quick work of gouging my left eye out. I heard a splat as he flicked my eye to the floor and passed out after that.

I woke up in a hospital some time later, with no memory of how I got there. At first I thought it had been just a horrible dream and that I’d ended up in hospital after a night of binge drinking, but soon realised that it had been no dream.

Someone told me that a couple of hard-core fans had come to the rescue. They’d spotted Nick and I leaving with the two bitches and had followed us. Thinking it all looked a bit suspicious when we were dragged unconscious out of the car, they had gone back into town to get help, but it was too late for Nick. He was already dead. His head on a spike, a look of terror plastered on his face, whilst the rest of his body lay scattered in bloody pieces.

 

 

~*~

 

Although I’d lost an eye, a foot and had sustained various other injuries, I was still alive (even though there were plenty of days I wished I was dead). I’d lived to help put away those sick bastards for a very long time. They weren’t going to be able to do those horrific acts of torture to anyone else and for that I was extremely thankful.

 

 



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