apsychoanalystsnightmare | nvn - {Get me out of here}
Having sent the text, she waited until her feet had fell numb to the cold that was beneath her and headed back inside, her blue hues glancing around for anything that may or may not be out of place. She could see the footprints that were made by her leading inside — wet against the wooden floor. Only they hadn’t stopped where she woke up. No; they had led up. Naturally, she followed them. Her heart leaping into her throat as the darkness dared to swallow her whole.
The image of Marissa impaled on the horns flashed in the back of her mind before she rounded the top of the stairs and caught glimpse of something more horrifying. The body was impaled up high as if he were a trophy. His entrails spilling down out of his stomach that had been sliced from the abdomen and up higher. In true hunting fashion.
His features turned her stomach, dead eyes set on hers. He resembled Nicholas Boyle in the most eerie fashion. This couldn’t have been done by her hands. No. It had to have been planted.
Her mind tried to pull itself together to keep the survival instinct going. But one ounce of evidence and she was done for. She knew that. Taking the hem of her nightgown in her hand she picked up the knife that laid at his feet, buried in his intestines and began wiping off the handle vigorously. No fingerprints.
That was when she noticed the skin under her nails.Â
Abigail? …Abigail!?  The voice that echoed through her ears was her father’s. Calling her downstairs to discuss college. To tell her that he couldn’t lose her. Couldn’t let her go. She felt sick, the warmth from the body radiating out towards her and heavy in the air. The memory of how she felt when she had skinned her first deer filled her brain and dared to spill anything she had eaten yesterday out onto the pile of pink that sat before her.
Are you in there!? That was not her father. That was Will.Â
She opened her mouth to call out to him but only managed something that resembled a dying animal. Licking her lips quickly she held her breath for a second, counting from five back to one and tried again. “Will!” Her voice shrill. Had she screamed during her nightmare? What was wrong with her? “I’m up here!” She couldn’t cover the panic that seeped through her words or her expression. This was different. This was a bigger mess than what had happened with Nicholas.Â
He was beginning to think that it was a lost cause, that his mind was once again playing tricks on him. It was even getting to the point where he was considering checking his phone to see if he'd actually received a text or not, when he heard her calling for him.
Relief flooded his veins, acting as an endorphin and propelling him forwards into the cabin, without a thought as to what could be facing him inside. The ground floor was empty, he noted, meaning that she could only really be in one other place, as her voice had most definitely come from inside, and not anywhere outside of the cabin. The imprint of the wet footsteps on the floor confirmed his suspicions, and he was powerless to stop himself from following them.
Should've brought a gun, the little voice in the back of his head spoke up, proving to be none too helpful once again, don't know what's up there. But it could only be Abigail...Right? She'd sounded panicked when she'd called out for him, but that was natural. He would've been exactly the same if he was in her position. And yet there was a shred of doubt filtering in at the corners of his mind. It could have been a way to get him off-guard and panicked and alone, he could have been walking straight into a carefully planned trap.
Even with that in mind, he made his way up to where he knew - or rather, hoped - Abigail would be waiting for him. His mind was put momentarily at ease when he caught sight of her, feet moving him forwards towards her, before he even noticed the...Oh. Fuck.
The nausea began to bubble up in his stomach. It wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting to see and in fact, it was so much worse. Had she done it? ...No, he couldn't allow himself to think like that, even though the evidence was definitely stacked up against her. He just couldn't allow himself to believe that she had killed whoever the guy was. "...What happened?" Asking was probably a superfluous thing to do, she probably didn't even know.
