All Hallow's Fiend

Far off in the distance, I heard the sounds of Clown and Remi, laughing and carrying on. In a heart beat, it seemed, I had made it up the stair case and halfway down the hallway. Like a trance had swept over me and my body had made the decision to move on without me. I saw the bedroom Remi had been talking about, a light with a faint glow coming from the open door. It kind of hung open, waiting for me. The light from inside flickering, pulling me in.

"Hot little bitch aren't you?"

I whirled around, expecting to see my shadow man that had been following me through the house and watching me. Nothing. Again. What the fuck was going on? Soon after, i heard Remi and Clown coming up the steps, along with the rest of the crew. I was beginning to wonder how they would all fit in the room. I walked inside, peeking around at the dingy, stained mattress in the middle of the floor. There were candles of all shapes and sizes in each corner of the room. I took out the ones from my bag and placed them in a circle around the makeshift bed. I had just placed the last one when they all piled in.

"Watch out. Stay outside the green candles," I told them. In truth, I'd never done this before, and wasn't sure exactly how it would go. I could only hope that it worked the way I had read it online. Then again, I had got it from Clown. So...it could go either way.

For an entire night, it seemed, the words repeated. Different tones, different pitches. But always the same words. When I had finished, everything around me felt so eerie. Like a door had been opened somewhere, and a cold wind was bursting through. I had called to Paul, the way I'd read it. I had recited the entire thing. There was nothing to see, nothing to hear around us. But the sensation was there. I could feel it. And by the look on Clown's face, he could too. I slowly went to each candle, taking out the flame with a single breath. As I poured the collective wax into a container, heavy and strong hands slid over my shoulders, down my bloody arms. I moaned out of instinct, that wetness between my legs returning as it had before. This time, however, it was stronger. I wasn't aware of anything or anyone else. I didn't want to. All I wanted, was that toned body that was pressing me face down into the mattress. I couldn't see or hear them, but I knew that I wanted them. wanted them to fuck me, right there. Regardless of who was around. God, i wanted them.

"Mmmm," they mumbled. "You're so warm."

I smiled and closed my eyes, hearing very distant whispers. Talking. But I couldn't make out a single word of what was being said.

"Say my name," they continued. "Tell them who you belong to.."

I Reared my head back, fighting now for a breath. A hand latched tightly around my throat. My desire for this person was turning into straight fear of what they were now doing. I gasped and choked out for breath. There was none. Then at last, A hot searing pain as a knife was drug across my chest. Sinking into my left breast.

"Morgan! Morgan!"

I swung my arms backwards, finally freeing myself from the icy hold. My hands connected with something solid. A person. I'd hit them! There were loud gasps and hushed whispers all around. Eyes were wide with disbelief. When I came to my senses, Clown was quick holding me, his lip and nose bloody and busted. The life running and smearing his face paint.

"Where is he?" I sobbed, still fighting against his hold on me.

"Where's who" a zombie had asked.

"The...Paul. Paul was fucking in here. I felt him holding me down. He.. was talking to me. He fucking cut my tits!!!!"

I looked down to where I had imagined the wound and saw that it was all too real. It had happened. I had been held down. I had been assaulted by this...thing. My flesh was bruised and swollen as I stared at Remi with a hate I'd never had for anyone my entire life.

"This is your fucking fault, Remi," I scowled. "You said this was a fucking game. A gimmick. You lied, motherfucker."

I tore away from Clown and began to hurriedly gather my things, and ran down the steps to the outside of the house. That feeling carried along behind me, hanging onto my arm like a piece of loose fabric in the wind. I burst into tears, screaming and crying. I was scared. I truly was. I was shaking so violently that I could barely stand. Barely tell Clown what was going on as he came running out to me.

"Morgan. What's up, come on, say something."

I couldn't even look at him in the eyes. I wanted to. But what was I supposed to say to him? I was almost fucking raped by a ghost? A ghost that he told me how to raise in the first place? I couldn't believe what I was feeling. No fucking way. He tried putting his arms around me, I didn't even flinch as he held me close.

"Babe. It was all a game. I never meant for this shit to happen like it did."

I stared numbly out into the distance, listening to the screeching of the trailer doorsas they swung back and forth in the night. Clown kissed the top of my head, his lip starting to puff up a little. I don't remember him carrying me to his truck. I don't remember the ride home, or him placing me in the bed. I only remember asking him one thing.

"What did you do, Clown?"

The question played in my head, and in my reality over and over the rest of the night. On into my sleep, what little there had been. The next thing I recalled, was waking up to an empty house the next afternoon. Jada was probably at her grandparents. Holly was no doubt with her boyfriend. I timidly pulled myself out of bed, peeking around every corner, looking for that boogie man that had me so terrified last night. The one who drove a knife across my bloody skin. It was like A nightmare that I couldn't get out of my head. A bad dream that wouldn't end. I could still feel the lingering touch of his hot lips on my neck, licking at my ear and cheek. The touch of his rough tongue against my neck. I shuddered at the thought and nearly fell through the doorway into the living room. A voice echoed through the empty room. One that wasn't my own, nor anyone else's. But HIS. If it really had been who I thought it to be.

"Hello?"

Of course, there was nothing.

"Hello?" I asked weakly, holding my arms against my body. My clothes had been changed. I was now wearing a large rock t-shirt. One big enough to go just above my knees. It had to have been Clown's I had been cleaned up. At least as best as whoever had done it could've. There was a large space of last night that was blank. Like after a long night of drinking and partying. But, this was different. This was far from the same thing. I shuffled through the house, looking around every corner, in every room, through every doorway and closet. My entire body felt numb and weak as I made it back around to the living room. And then, I was frozen, as if someone was behind me, holding me down in that one spot. If I could've run, I think I would have. But I couldn't even draw in a single breath as those familiar hands slipped under the back of the shirt, massaging the backs of my thighs and ass. I closed my eyes, small, warm tears sliding down my face. It felt so wrong, so horribly wrong. It shouldn't be happening. Not this. It wasn't possible. The sudden grabbing of my nipples told me another story. I could actually feel the physical presence of hands, fondling me through the cotton. Hear the heavy breathing in my burning ears as a tongue flicked at my cheek.

"Who are you?"I asked.

I was freaking out beyond belief. Who wouldn't if someone was touching them, teasing them, and they couldn't see what or rather who it was that was doing it.

"I'm not telling," the ethereal voice replied, like it was coming from somewhere very distant and far away.

I opened my eyes and saw that I wasn't in the living room, but in the bathroom, wiping away the steam from my shower. Again, a complete blank. I couldn't remember anything to save my life. Except that fucking voice. I stared at my hazy reflection in the mirror. The tingling sensation of the hands still lingered all over me. Setting me almost on fire. Why did I like it? Why did I want to know what had just happened? Some sort of occurrence had stirred this all up. Things like this didn't just happen at random. There had to have been more to last night than Clown had told me. Maybe some tiny thing I had overlooked. I braced myself against the bathroom sink and cringed in pain. My side. My side was killing me. I looked down. and beneath my hand was a simple mark. A single jagged cut running from ribcage to hip.

"Damn!" I groaned, nearly doubling over.

I stayed there for the longest time, trying to calm the edginess that had been building up inside of me Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe I was still in a dream and I was imagining all of this mess. hearing and feeling things that couldn't possibly be happening. For nearly an hour I waited for my stomach to settle and the nausea to go away. It came back to me as I heard the phone ringing just inside of the kitchen. I went to answer, holding back a cough and gag.

"Y-yeah?"

"It's Remi."

"I can't talk. I'll be there later."

I quickly hung up the phone and leaned up against the wall. I was feeling lightheaded, woozy. Did I really want to go back? And face that damned thing that had followed me home only to fuck with me? I sobbed quietly, holding my stomach and ribs. so much pain and confusion. And it was all because of Devil's Inn. All because of what was supposed to have been a damned game for the other workers there.

"I need you fucking helpless, Morgan."

I found myself thinking of the drawing. The way the sadness in the paper girl's eyes seemed so real. I didn't wanna walk into that place again. I didn't want to find out what "he" wanted from me. And why he had chosen me. But somewhere deep inside of me, I did. I wanted to know every little detail of every little thing he'd ever done. And I wanted him to show me for himself. I wanted him, period. I tried to push it all out of my mind and forget about it. every time that I did, I would hear that voice, calling me back. Urging me to go back and give in.

I took a deep breath, staring at the clock on the wall. It was almost time. Almost time to go back and go straight down wherever it was that he'd ended up/ And I absolutely loved the feeling.

"Come home, baby. Come home to daddy."

Hour after hour passed at the place. It seemed like a damned eternity before the lights came back on and the night was over with. I couldn't believe that I made it through without breaking down. I reached inside a cabinet for a bottle of whiskey I had stashed, and flipped it open. I had made it through hell and back. And I was still alive. There were no more customers. No more shows. i was done. And I was happy. It seemed as though all from last night had ceased, and I was back in my own world again. I had chugged a good amount before I felt that irritation in my stomach. I sat the bottle down and laid back on the gurney, tracing the bottom of the bottle along my upper thigh. The voices had disappeared, but the touching had not. I still wanted those hands. Still wanted that caress, even if it was harsh and violent as hell. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn't hear the cellar doors come open. I didn't hear the heavy footsteps till they were almost right beside me.

"Remi, I'm sorry about last night. I was just so fucking scared. Clown..."

"Clown is fucking brilliant..."

I hiccuped and turned my head to the side. It was a voice I didn't recognize completely. Someone I didn't know from this place. I looked over to see a man. He hadn't been one of the workers. His smile was enough to make me go rigid. Unable to move, unable to speak. He tilted his head to the side, staring at me with a sick hunger. His eyes were so blue, that were near white. Glazed over as he moved closer to the table I laid on. I wiped my bottom lip and hopped down, keeping my watch on him. My face flushed, realizing he was staring at my tits.

"We're closed..."

"Paul," he said quietly.

"I'm sorry?"

"My name's Paul," he repeated. "And I know you're closed, Morgan. I just wanted to have one good look at you. All of you."

The blood was rushing into my cheeks as he stalked closer, purposely taking his time. Dragging a heavily tattooed hand over the rusty instruments and props. Someone had to have put him up to this, I thought to myself. They had to.

I watched him scratch the blue stubble of hair on his head, never taking those cold eyes off of me. Now and then, he would look around, like he was amazed with the setup of the room.

"Clown put you up to this, didn't he?" I asked, cracking a smile. I had to be right.

Paul, as he'd introduced himself, laughed and picked up the drill. He revved it a few times, staring straight at me as he did. He laid it back down and slid his jacket off of his back. I watched it fall to the floor, exposing his sculpted and bare chest. For a minute, I forgot the tension and frustration I was feeling and took another long drink, offering him the bottle.

"I like the way you think," he said, taking a long drink.

I nearly stumbled back into the machines and equipment, noticing how thin and pale this man's skin was. his flesh was so thin it was nearly transparent. I could almost see the veins underneath, pulsing. But they weren't. They were blue. and looked as cold as his skin. He snickered in a low tone, scratching at an open gash in the side of his neck. It looked as though either he or someone else had slit his throat, and tried to stitch it up on their own. There was something in the way he moved, the way the sound of his voice was so echoed. Like one of those plastic, toy, microphones that's hollowed out and vibrates when you speak into it. he pushed aside the tools, and grabbed a length of tire chain that had been hanging on the wall. he turned his attention back to me and before I could blink, he was right in front of me. Head lowered. Eyes raised up, chain wrapped around each of his fingers.

"I've-"

"Got to shut the fuck up," he hissed. "And listen to me very carefully. I know...You Morgan. Trust me, I do."

I closed my eyes and where his breath should have been warm, it was freezing cold. Ice against my liquor warmed skin. My mouth was saying go away, but my body was begging him to touch me. For the first time in a very long time, I was speechless. It wasn't my nerves, nor the tingling sensation his fingertips brought out of me. It was just him. The way he looked, the way he touched me. His death like kiss as he grazed my chin.

"Four years ago, baby. I stood right in this same room. This very same spot. All those girls? It's all true. Three of them were locals. All I had to do was offer them a little something, and they were like puppets for me. I made them hotter than hot. Fucking beautiful. A little burn here, a couple of cuts there. And BAMM!Fuck, It's gets me so fucking hard just thinking about all of the begging they did to be with me."

I gasped, eyes darting from the gurney table back to him. If he hadn't been setting me up, how did he know so much about the house? he talked, I stared, taking notice of every tiny little move that he made. With each footfall, a sickening and terrifying thought came to me. Neither Remi nor Clown had told me ANY of the things that this man was spilling out to me. They'd said nothing of the way the women were conned into it. Nothing of how they'd been brought here. It wasn't even in my research. Yet, the more I heard, the more I actually believed. He pushed his cold lips against mine, groaning happily and licking at my throat. he told his story, pausing now and then to apply more pressure or force his hand on another dropping button. Forever he talked. Not hesitating in the least to let me in on the gore and smut. The disgust was rolling over into my dread. If he was who he said, and he had done these crimes, what the hell was he going to do to me? Deep in my hidden emotions, I wanted to know. Wanted to know exactly what he'd done. I wanted to feel it. as if hearing about his violence was turning me on on some odd level. I felt there was only one way to fix it. I didn't want to be right. Didn't want to admit for anything that I wanted this man inside of me. Fucking me like he had those other souls. The ghost of a crazed lunatic had me pinned against a dirt wall in his basement. Grabbing hatefully at the roots of my darkened hair. A laugh so deep, and savage, and cruel, boomed out all around us.

"Baby, did you know I had that seventh girl all worked out? I was gonna pick her up on a Halloween night. Like tonight. And just show her a good time. Something any woman would love. cops came. fucked it all up. I'll be damned if I was going to let them have the joy of taking me out. So I did myself. I ain't done yet, though. Hell no. Not now."

He smiled that sharpened smile, his features darkening. I screamed out in agony as he twisted my hair around his hand, shoving his face against my own. He had a speed and quickness, no other man had. Before I could feel any pain from the impact, he had body slammed me into the gurney. I laid in the middle of the debris, coughing and spitting up blood at his approaching feet. Just as quickly, he had shoved me face first into the wall, jagged nails tearing at my stockings and thighs. I jerked and struggled to get away from him. Thrashing between the barriers that I prayed to be loose from. His psychotic snicker was the only result. It wasn't until his freezing hand wedged between my heated thighs that he calmed down. almost angry, it sounded. He forcefully shoved two fingers into my throbbing pussy, and I could feel it stretching, My mouth formed an 'o' of surprise, and my eyes clenched shut. I didn't want to see anymore. Despite the fact that he was like a freezing cold man, my body felt like it was on fire. Searign while he held my face against the steep basement wall. And while the blinding pain of his bites wracked my skin, The touch of his icy hard cock at my ass sent me into a fit of panic.

"NO!" I shouted. "Please. Please, Paul. Don't. Please."

He then threw me violently to the ground, and I landed on all fours. Paul stood over me like some depraved giant. His steely white eyes watching me while his pale hand took hold of the hard-on between his fingers. I watched him stroke it, groaning with every twist of that damned hand. And with each of his moans, a new pain came to me. My ribs, which had to be broken. My arm that I held closer to my bare chest. My eyes fell upon his cock. He was larger than I'd first seen him, now. Thicker. Longer.

"You wanna taste death, Morgan? Come on. be a good nurse for me and take your medicine."

I leaned forward, my body trembling so badly, that I nearly fell back to the cold earth and concrete. My grimy hands reached up for his translucent body, resting on the shapely cut of his lower abdomen.

"Paul," I whimpered, noticing warm tears rolling down my face. why wasn't I running from this? Why wasn't I trying to stop it?

"Stop fucking thinking," he scowled, forcing himself into my mouth. I immediately gagged, unable to take it all at one time. He smacked me harshly, and only then did I manage a hurtful cry. Begging for it all to just go away.And again, I was hit. This time, a shot straight to my jaw.

"You brought me here you fucking bitch. You knew what would happen. and ya did it any fucking way."

I buried my face in his stomach, nearly throwing up as his thick, and lengthy cock shoved inside of my throat. Now and then, I would glance up at him, only seeing the emptiness and hate in his eyes. The lack of a soul or anything remotely human. Not anymore, not in this thing that had taken to pumping back and forth over my bruised lips and tongue.

"That's better," the foggy voice answered. "Much better."