Female Bottom Reader (Final Girl) x Serial Killer Alex
🖤 𝓐𝓵𝓮𝔁𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓠𝓾𝓲𝓷𝓷 🖤
Synopsis: After running from a serial killer all night, you don’t think you can run anymore. With all your friends dead, all you can do is hide and pray for the best.
Kinks: Dub-con, final girl, survival horror, masked killer, crying, knife play, bloodplay, belly bulge, size difference, scientific words and dirty words to refer to certain body parts, p in v, no condom, creampie, public-ish, knife near vagina, crying, name carving with said knife, vocal male, mute killer, doggy style, sleeper hold, cervix fucking, impossibly big dick, squirting
Warning: Dub-con and knife near private parts
a/n: Second day! Exposition is my weakness lol. And I had a bit of fun with this one.
Word count: 3.1k
💀𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓽𝓸𝓫𝓮𝓻 ‘24 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽👻
MDNI 18+
Celebrating your graduation with friends was supposed to be your last hoorah before entering the monotonous work force. You and your group of friends hadn’t stood a chance, the week long celebration was being held at a friend’s lake house surrounded by nothing but woods. No one knew the area or expected the unreliable cell service. Whispers from the nearest town about a crazy murderer on the loose were unheard of with thumping music, close dancing bodies and drinking. It was no surprise that no one noticed the lingering figure in the shadows, closely watching for his time to strike.
It wasn’t until it was too late, screams ripping through the party that chaos descended. There were only a handful of you but throughout the night, everyone was picked off, assumingly killed in a gruesome manner. You were the only one to make it out the house, sprinting through the disorienting woods in search of the town that was miles out. You’d left everything behind, trekking through the dense woods in nothing but a thin skirt and crop top. Your leg had been poorly bandaged as a result from cutting yourself on broken glass, a daring escape from the first floor window. You’d been terrified, boarding yourself up in the study, and attempting to break through the safe you’d found for a gun. It was just a moment to breathe, and think before you were interrupted by the bowing of the door, a large object ramming into it rhythmically. The house was no longer safe.
Rain beat down on your frame, crisp white shirt becoming see through as you limped through pockets of mud, stepped over overgrown roots and squinted to see the woods ahead. The leaves and branches obscured the moon for the most part. You were tired, thirsty and hurt, but you needed to keep moving. Your lungs burned, as did your muscles as you tried to persist further. You knew you wouldn’t be able to make it, he’d easily catch up to you with your injury and fleeting energy.
You took a break beneath a tree, shielding yourself from the gaps that allowed rain to pass through. Your breathing was labored, pants passing through your lips as you settled to rest for a moment. Just a couple minutes was all you needed…You could hear your own breathing in your ears, your thunderous heartbeat as panic started to settle in. What were you going to do? You were alone, you’d die before you made it to the town whether that be from the murderer or getting lost within the woods. All around you it was just trees, you’d zigzagged in an attempt to confuse the killer but you’d also confused yourself in the process. Who knew if you were even going the right way anymore.
Your breath hitched when you heard the cracking of a branch, and shortly after the loud crunching of leaves. It was him! It had to be! You turned quickly to continue your path, the rain and your fear leaving you freezing cold. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to step away from the tree, your shoe catching beneath the root and causing you to tumble face first into the dirt with a loud yelp. Your eyes squeezed shut, the noise echoing through the woods, tears burning your eyelids. There was no way he hadn’t heard you, he knew where you were, you were done for! You listened, trying to hold your breath and hold onto a tiny bit of hope. Maybe luck was on your side, or maybe some higher power, maybe he hadn’t heard you at all. The silence settled, your own yelp still echoing in your head.
A terrified scream ripped from your throat when hands clasped onto your sides. His hands were large and heavy, fingers nearly touching, his grip hard enough it felt like he was squeezing the air from your lungs. Your heart was pounding so hard you felt lightheaded, it was too late but still you struggled, movements more erratic in the attempt to get your foot out from beneath the root. The hands around your ribs loosened, one coming down, gliding down the left side of your abdomen, your outer thigh, past the bandage, along your calf and eventually stopped at your trapped foot. He made no noise but his own breathing behind the mask, heavy and excited at your attempt to run from him.
You stilled, tensing when his large hand wrapped around your ankle. It took one hard tug for your foot to come loose, his hand squeezing around your ankle to keep you from taking the chance to run off. His right hand was still grasping your right side and another few moments passed. You were confused, why wasn’t he killing you? You could feel his stare against your back, raking over your form slowly, a shuddering running down your spine.
He released your ankle, grabbing the hem of your skirt and flipping it up, your thin panties on display. You had worn them for your boyfriend that night, thin and sheer, high waisted and hardly keeping your cheeks within the material. He liked the sight, licking his lips beneath his mask while you squirmed beneath him. The last thing you expected was something like this, you had watched him kill your friends ruthlessly but for some reason you were getting different treatment? The hand at your side, moved to splay against your upper back, strong enough to pin you against the ground. Your skirt was left up, a breeze ghosting over your skin before his left hand squeezed at your ass.
It was even harder to breathe when pinned down, a knot in your stomach forming at the feeling of his heavy hand groping you freely. You didn’t want to know the thoughts that were going through his mind, breath hitching when his hand shifted between your thighs. It was unexpected, feeling his thumb stroke along your slit, it was embarrassing that such a gentle touch had that knot within you tightening.
“What are you…?” Your voice was shaky, trembling as you turned your head to try and get a good view of him. His body easily took over your field of vision, he was wearing a simple black top, muscles bulging from beneath the fabric. He straddled the back of your thighs, even his jeans seeming too snug on his body. Such miniscule movement of his gloved thumb pressing against your vulva had the tendons in his arms shifting, his pale skin beneath the sliver of the moonlight made your mouth water.
It didn’t take a genius to know what his intentions were, especially when he finally pulled aside your panties and against your better judgment, thin strings of grool stretched from your vulva. His throat rumbled, a dark chuckle from your clear enjoyment of being chased down. You jerked from beneath him, eyes zoning in on the mask he wore, his thumb coming down to stroke against your hardening clit. It was stark white, the eyes black and empty and the mouth elongated in a terror stricken scream. You could see nothing through the mesh that gave the mask its endless black features, and it made your stomach turn at the blatant mockery of his victims.
Aside from your breathing and the beating of your heart, you could hear the familiar sounds of your juices as his thumb passed through them, spreading them along your vulva, shining in the lowlight. You could hear his own breathing deepening behind his mask, his hand moving from your vulva and towards the hip you couldn’t properly see. Your stomach dropped when you heard the telling sound of metal being drawn, the bone chilling scraping of it leaving its scabbard making your mouth feel dry.
He was going to do it now, panic settling all over again. It left you feeling cold from head to toe, the pattering of the rain on your skin feeling hard and icy akin to sleet. Your eyes were squeezed closed, dots swimming in the blackness at your insistence. You didn’t want to watch when he prepared to kill you.
With his left hand on the handle of his knife, he guided the tip of the blade to your warmth. It brushed your skin just barely, your grool sticky on its metal surface before it caught in the cloth of your panties. Pulling the knife towards him, it easily cut through the fabric, letting it fall limply between your thighs. You let out the breath you were holding, tears in your eyes when he seemed to take joy in your fear.
His body shifted upwards, his bulge pressing against your ass, firm and imposing. The knife returned, the tip of it pressing against your tailbone and just like with your panties, he used it to trail along the peeking skin and cut through the flimsy fabric of your shirt.
“Please…” You blubbered, tears escaping from your eyes and wetting your lashes. His right hand pulled open the tatters of your shirt, while his left cut at the sleeves, allowing him to pull the shirt from your body, leaving you in just your skirt. Braless no longer seemed to be the right idea, your hard nipples pressing into the dirt, rain dripping onto your shivering form.
Humiliation was beginning to set in alongside the panic and fear, loud sobs racking through your body. From where he sat over you, he watched with amusement as the terror settled. He knew what he was doing, forcing you to wait with bated breath for his next move. He brought the knife down, scraping it along the backs of your shoulder, against your spine, connecting droplets of water and separating them. At the feeling of the knife your cries only grew louder, expecting it to be the final blow but it still never came.
The point of the knife settled on your ass cheek, his strong thighs right back to straddling your trembling thighs. Your tears stained the dirt beneath your head and your cheeks, your face flushed from the effort. More pleas were falling from your lips even though you knew he wasn’t listening to you. Your body relaxed into the dirt, feeling a false sense of security, expecting that he’d trace over your body.
You were mistaken, screaming when he dug the blade of the knife into the meat of your cheek. The pain was searing hot as he carved through your skin, deep enough to scar. Three grueling lines felt like forever, blood bubbling from the cuts and staining your pretty skin, just as he would have hoped. The burn persisted even when he moved the knife, you briefly thought he’d still been carving your skin.
On your cheek, bright red and bleeding was the initial of an A. His name that you had yet to learn, not that you wanted to realistically. Your body relaxed only when the blade was moved, tired and sore from how long you remained tensed up. Your body was already beginning to give out, exhausted from running all night, being kept awake and moving solely from adrenaline alone.
Your eyes fluttered closed, fighting to stay alert. It was freezing from the rain and from the fear, the dirt beneath you only retaining the water from the cloud. You were brought back to the moment when you heard the unzipping of his jeans, his weight lifting briefly as he adjusted himself behind you.
You were too tired of fighting, wanting to melt into the ground, for all of this to finally be over. You let out a soft whine, feeling his warm tip rubbing against your vulva. The presence of the knife didn’t scare you as much as you would have thought, grool leaking steadily from your hole, dripping onto the dirt below. You kept your eyes closed, lips pressing together in defiance when his tip came to rub at your clit. Pleasure jolted through your veins, mixing with the pain of the cuts on your ass. Tears welled in your eyes, unable to escape from how tightly they were closed. Your body was still finding pleasure in your pain, in the terror of the situation you were in.
“Mm.” Your moan was muffled as his tip tapped against your clit, his ridge grinding against your clit deliciously. Grunts and moans you tried to make quiet, attempting to muffle them into the dirt as he lewdly slapped his length against your vulva, grool sticking to his length. He was determined to hear you scream for him again.
He pressed his tip against your vulva, spreading your lips as he guided himself up to your awaiting hole, clenching down on nothing and desperate to be filled. Your clit was buzzing from the attention, throbbing and desperate for a firm touch. It was more humiliating than just being stripped down naked in the middle of the woods.
He wasn’t gentle, his tip pressing into your hole that seemed two sizes too small for the girth of him. Your eyes flew open suddenly from the burn of his girth stretching you open, jaw dropping from the ruthless pressure. He had one goal in mind that had nothing to do with your comfort. Your walls squelched loudly from the pressure of his length, squeezing down on bulbous veins. He made you feel undeniably full from less than half of his length alone.
“Oh my god…”You couldn’t help but squeal from the stress alone, forearms scrambling to hold yourself up in an attempt to drag yourself from beneath him. The dirt was slippery beneath you from the rain, staining your skin and making it impossible to find purchase. He laughed again from behind you, his large body leaning over your smaller frame and trapping you beneath him. His forearms closed you in, his hips continuing to press forward into your struggling walls.
You froze beneath him, body tensing up as his cock bullied itself deeper into you, pressing firmly against your cervix. He hadn’t even worked himself in halfway before you felt as if he were crushing your insides. Your eyes rolled, walls clenching hard from the inability to relax. “Ugh.” You grunted out, the bizarre pressure already having you teetering on the edge of your orgasm. He stilled inside you, for just a few moments before he pulled his hips back and started a rough pace, brutal as he slammed back into your cervix.
He was fucking the moans right from your throat, hips working his length as deep as he could manage it. Your back arched, tears of pleasure dripping quickly. You were still trying to get away, alleviate the pressure and the bulge poking through your lower abdomen. Your nails scratched at the dirt beneath you, quickened breaths coming from your lips, your own body betraying you as you pushed back against him, trying to chase your orgasm.
“Fuck!” You moaned when his hips clapped against your ass, hot pain and pleasure bubbling from the contact against the cut he had given you. Your walls clenched down harder, your body pushing involuntarily as you came, squirting onto the dirt. He groaned from behind you, pressing his chest to your back while his hips slammed into you. Your body jerked beneath him, dirt caking onto your knees as his strength forced you forward, inch by inch.
Your walls grew sensitive when your orgasm dissipated, a sob wracking through your body when he didn’t slow down. His pace was the same, even, deep and rough, precum squirting against your cervix. You tried to catch your breath, the sensitivity of your hole and the cut on your cheek quickly shifting into pleasure. Your blood smeared onto his hips and your skin, marking the both of you.
Your ass clapped loudly against him, mixing with the sounds of your moans, his groans and the sloppy sounds of your pussy continuing to wet his length. His balls slapped against your clit, your back arching all over again, attempting to sink further into the pleasure.
Your brain felt foggy, hazy from the force of your first orgasm, you’d forgotten just who was fucking you. What he had done to your friends, what he still could do to you. Your heart leapt into your throat when his left forearm came around the front of your neck, right beneath your chin. Your neck rested in the crook of the elbow of his left arm, his left hand resting on his right bicep, and his right hand stabilizing your head with his palm on the top of your head.
Your eyes rolled when he applied pressure to your carotids on either side of your neck, hips bucking into you eagerly, bruising your cervix. You felt lightheaded all over again, anxiety spiking from the impending doom you felt of your consciousness slipping. Your body was relaxing, allowing him the ease of splitting your walls apart on his cock. Your moans and whimpers were quieted, his groans loud in your ear. Your body jolted, the impact of his hips on your ass no longer felt as consciousness slowly began to slip away.
It was before you could fully pass out, his grip loosening and the blood surging right back to your brain. All the pleasure crashed right back into you, the connection of your brain and limbs returning, your walls clamping on his length again as if remembering he was there. Your second orgasm was just as hard as the first, quick and mind numbing when he began to squeeze on your carotids a second time. You had hardly felt it at first but when he released you again you were trembling beneath him, dirt and squirt mixing together beneath your spread thighs.
He pressed his hips firmly against yours, hot jets of cum painting your walls and cervix. His right hand moved down to his base, guiding his length out of your sopping hole. He was dripping with your grool, a ring of cream around his base. His fist worked to pump his base, guiding his tip over the still bleeding cut of his initial, cum spraying atop it and mixing with your blood into a light pink mess. The burn was unbeknownst to you as he pressed his tip down against the mangled skin, pumping his hips against it a few times in satisfaction.
He breathed a sigh into your ear, releasing you and allowing you to fall down into the dirt, head swimming, body buzzing and trembling from the pleasure. His body above yours was gone as he withdrew to put away his knife and fix himself back into his pants. You could feel the pattering of the rain on your overheated skin again, washing away the sweat that had begun to build up.
You felt boneless when he stood, reaching down to pick you up and toss you over his shoulder with ease. The tatters of your clothes rested in his right fist, not wanting to leave evidence behind. You were unlike any of your friends, destined to a life with him, where no one else could lay their eyes on you.
The walk home from school took forever as always. Alex’s parents decided they weren’t old enough to have a car, even though they were 16, and that they’d have to walk home and it was 3 mile walk. Alex was about 5 minutes away from their house and their parents are going to criticize them about being late. Again. Alex was non-binary, which means they don’t have a gender, their parents didn’t care about that though, and they never did. They were originally a boy but they didn’t feel comfortable with that, so Alex decided to make a bit of a change. After that, it was then the beatings started to happen.
Alex abruptly stopped in front of a stable full of horses, they considered to go and pet the horses but they decided against it. Their parents would scold them and probably give him a beating. Alex started to run gazing longingly to the horses for only moment and they ran home. When they came into their two story house, they were introduced to their parents shouting at each other about them. Alex’s brown and green hair, which was longer on one side, swished as they slowly and quietly shut the door behind them. Alex was wearing a slightly grayish green sweatshirt, with light green strings.
The black jeans they were wearing were smudged green at his knees from being pushed down from the school jock, Derek. Alex had a huge bruise on their face thanks to him. Alex silently crept into the kitchen to try and get to his room which was upstairs. “Where do you think you’re going Alex?” Their mother, whose name was Shelly, questioned them. “To my room.” They responded quietly. ‘Wrong answer.’ Alex thought when he saw Shelly’s face grow red a little.
“Alex Sanard! You realize you are about 2 minutes late! What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” Alex flinched a little, they hated being called a boy but their parents didn’t care. “Go to your room! You’re lucky I don’t give a beating today!” That answer was good enough for Alex because they sprinted upstairs and towards their room and shut the door. They sighed and flopped down onto their bed careful not to fall on their sister. Alex’s sister had long black hair and green, like her mother, and her name was also Lizzy.
The next day was just as plain as ever and Alex saw their bully, Derek. They had gained another bruise on their ribs from him today. Alex walked the 3 miles from school to home. When he came home he found his parents were having a house party of some sort. Alex put up their hood over their head, concealing his blue and gold eyes from sight but they could still see people. They walked into the kitchen to go to their room but Alex’s parents called over to them and asked if they could get Shelly and Colin, Alex’s dad, a drink. Alex sighed and said “Sure...” and walked towards the kitchen again. Alex reached into their pocket and pulled out a bottle of…poison? Alex heard of it before but they couldn’t remember what it was.
Alex then remembered. ‘Oh it’s supposed to kill people!’ Alex saw a black figure in the kitchen window but when they fully looked it was gone. They’ve been seeing it for the past few weeks but disregard it as their imagination. Also, when ever they saw it, they could hear ringing. Alex looked at the bottle of poison and all of a sudden he heard a voice in his head, ‘do it. Put the poison in. You hate them don’t you? Kill them.’ They did their best to ignore the voice and shoved the poison back into their sweatshirt pocket. Alex quickly made their parent drinks and brought it out to them. His dad narrowed his eyes as they made their way back to them and whispered harshly to them. “What was taking you so long?!” Alex flinched and replied back with “I-I got distracted...” It wasn’t a complete lie; they did get a bit distracted by that mysterious figure in the window, the poison and the little voice in their head, chanting to kill their parents.
Colin sighed angrily at the teenager’s answer and whispered back. “Go to your room. I deal with you later.” Alex already knew what that meant; they had heard it too many times in their life. Those words meant they were going to get a beating for sure and with that terrifying thought, they sped through the kitchen and upstairs into their room where Lizzy was sitting in the middle of the floor, playing with her Barbie’s. They walked over slowly to her and crouched down beside her. “Hey Angel.” She turned her head and gasped excitedly. “Al!” She hugged her big sibling and they chuckled. “Lizzy, I need you to do me a favor.” “What is it?” Alex got a serious look on their face and whispered into her ear. “After the party is done, I need you to go downstairs after daddy comes up stairs to talk to me, okay?”
She nodded determinedly and grinned. “Hey Al! Want to play dollhouse with me?” They chuckled, happy at their eleven year old sister, and said “Sure!”
After an hour of playing with Lizzy, Alex soon realized the party was done when their father came stomping upstairs into their and Angel’s room. Alex looked at Lizzy, who was looking at them. They then nodded and she scrambled up and raced downstairs to unknowingly escape the beating Alex was about to receive. Colin stood at the doorway, glaring down at them with his tall height. Alex was sitting and then they got up, standing at full height and was rivaling Colin’s height. Despite Alex being younger, they were 6 foot while their father was 6 foot, 3 inches. He walked over to Alex, trying to seem calm but failing to hide it on his face.
He raised his fist and it crashed onto Alex’s cheek. They stumbled backwards, almost falling down just by that one punch. Colin reached for the front of their green sweatshirt, held them up and started to punch them over and over again until Alex’s nose was bleeding and so was his mouth. He dropped them to the ground. They quickly tried to get away by crawling but that plan obviously failed when they crumpled into a ball when they were kicked in the ribs and were wheezing. Colin then reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a knife. He swiped in front of Alex’s face and they quickly moved back, only getting their nose cut deeply and bleeding profusely.
He then grabbed a hold of Alex’s left arm and pulled up his sleeve, revealing many scars from past beatings and cuts that he made their self. Colin then dragged the knife up and down Alex’s arm, forming and carving words into their flesh, and making the word ‘SELFISH’ in huge, red and bleeding letters. Colin then grabbed Alex, by the neck this time, causing them to try and gasp for breath but failing to gain it. Colin let Alex struggle by clawing at his hands, trying to pry them from their throat, and let them do the same thing over and over again in 5 minutes time. Alex was starting to lose consciousness when he heard the door squeak open and a small gasp was heard. “Father! Put them down!” They were dropped down at once and footsteps going towards and away from them were heard. Shortly after that, Alex then passed out from lack of breath.
Alex slowly opened their eyes, seeing a sobbing little girl above them with black hair. “L… Lizzy?” The girl gasped and sat up as they sat up right from lying on the floor. “Alex! Y-you’re okay..!” She said between sobs and sniffles. “I can’t believe father did that.” Alex sighed at their sister’s crying face and wrapped her arms around the eleven year old, trying their best to comfort her. “I know, I know…” She sobbed into their shoulder for a while until she stopped crying and was only letting out sniffles here and there. Alex just now realized his left sleeve was rolled up still and there was a bandage around the carving their so called father left.
Alex stood up with little Lizzy in their arms and walked over to her bed, setting her down on side and then crawled onto the other, falling asleep rather easily for once.
When Alex woke up, they heard shouting from downstairs and got up from their bed. They started to walk downstairs leading into the kitchen and found Colin and Shelly arguing about what to do with Alex again. Their parents were always arguing about what to do with them but they never did anything. It was a weekend so Alex was in no hurry to go anywhere but apparently their parents… had ‘other’ plans.
Alex stood up from the chair they were sitting in and walked over to a drawer. While they were sitting at the table, eating cereal, despite it being almost 3 in the afternoon, they kept thinking about how fed up they were with being pushed around by the people at school and his parents. How much they hated them. They let out an audible, almost inhuman, growl as they reached into the drawer and pulled out the largest knife in it. It almost looked like a machete; now that they thought about it. Alex then walked away with the knife in hand and sat down on the living room couch, messing with the knife and looking at it from different angles. They looked into the reflection, seeing themselves and everything behind them, including the dark figure standing in the background. Alex snapped their head to look behind them but saw nothing except for the window and a drawer with a picture of the family on top of it. Colin looked up, staring ahead, from the newspaper he was reading, wondering what his child was doing when he heard a huge ‘CRASH’ of wood cracking and snapped his head towards the sound.
Alex had crashed their fist into a table so hard that it had snapped in half under the pressure it was hit on. They felt a huge surge of anger all of a sudden towards his father, sitting there like nothing had happened yesterday. It made them feel so angry.
Alex’s discolored eyes which had bags under them twitched angrily as Colin had got up and walked over to them, anger evident on his face. “What the hell?! Why can’t you stay good for once and not to do anything?!” He raised his clenched fist but stopped when he felt a sudden pain in his stomach and looked down to his gut. Alex had pulled out the knife from their pocket and stabbed it into Colin. “Y-you-!” A drip of blood came out of his mouth as he spoke and then coughed. Alex pulled the knife out from his stomach and then tackled the man to the ground. They raised their fist and started to punch him over and over again until his face became a bleeding mess. They then took the knife from the ground and stabbed Colin in the head. They reached towards Colin’s limp left arm and started to carve the word ‘LIAR’ into it when he heard an ear piercing scream behind them.
They slowly turned their head towards the scream, glaring at the woman before them and they opened their mouth, chuckling, and said quietly “Welcome home, mother.” They slowly stood up with their back hunched slightly; his face and green sweatshirt covered in dark red blood, and turned towards Shelly. They raced towards her so fast, she couldn’t react and then sliced her neck, getting blood all over her light blonde dress and then she fell to the ground, her eyes wide open with fear in them. Alex chuckled insanely and crouched down to their mother and grabbed their right arm, now realizing he had leather gloves on though they don’t remember putting them on, and carved the word ‘SLUT’ into it. Alex then heard sirens outside of their house and realized the whole neighborhood probably heard Shelly’s scream and raced down the hall towards the backdoor to the woods and slammed the door open and raced outside towards the woods. A police officer was standing near the back of the house when he saw Alex go into the woods and yelled out “Hey you! Stop!” causing the police to chase him through out the day and night.
Alex sat on a tree branch, hidden from the police for the night. They wanted to sleep but they couldn’t. Not while the police on their tail obviously. That’d turn into a very bad situation for Alex and they knew it. They’d either sentence him to death by lethal injection, the thought of needles going into their skin made Alex shiver, or worse, a mental asylum. They looked to the right and froze, seeing a black and white figure almost at least 30 meters away from them. Alex blinked and found that it was gone. They closed their eyes and relaxed, trying to get their worries away then slowly fell asleep.
Alex snapped open their eyes to find that they were being carried into a car of some sort. A police car. They start to struggle and found that they were handcuffed, yet still tried to brake free. They were shoved into the car; it started up and started to drive. After a while, the prison came into view and Alex flinched as the cop drove past it and they realized soon enough. They were going to the mental asylum.
Alex kept a grin on their face the whole time they were walking through out the asylum to keep from the guards guiding him to him room from talking. Their blue and yellow eyes switched back and forth to look at the other people who were trapped here. They spotted a room at the end of the hall they were being walked down and figured it was there, white and padded, room. Alex was then shoved in to it and the door slammed behind them, and locks were heard, they then figured out they were going to be here for a while.
Almost a year later, Alex was still sitting in that same room. They moved their arms in the straightjacket, in hopes the chains were somehow loose and they could brake free, but none the less it didn’t work. Alex had lost their sanity long ago and he was 17 now, almost pushing 18 years old. Alex looked up at the guards near their door and sighed, looking back down again, yet there was a secret smirk on their face. They snapped their head up again when they heard the guards standing there being knocked out and the door being quietly unlocked. They smirked, thinking ‘I guess I could do with some escape.’
“This just in, Pennhurst Asylum has just had a recent mass murder and a break-out of an infamous criminal named Alex Sanard! If you see this individual,” A picture of the said person showed up on the television screen. “Please, tell the police right away for he is a cold blooded-“ The TV suddenly was turned off by a figure standing beside it. It had a white mask with black eyes and a wide black smile and streaks of black near the eyes, representing bags of lack of sleep. The figure had a dark green sweatshirt and black jeans, dirtied with dried and fresh blood. It held a knife with its leathered gloves on its hands which had dripping dark blood. “Heh.” It chuckled, looking over to the massacred family before it and stepped over the limp bodies, leaving the house through the window. “I hate people who lie. Especially about me.”
