The bottle of whisky hit the wall with a CRASH, landing on the floor in pieces --- sixth down, seventh to go. Skinner was inebriated, blitzed out of his mind. For weeks it’d been this way, and for the weeks to come it’d remain… well, until he ran out of alcohol. Had he still a liver to damage it’d be abolished tenfold, lying pitifully at the bottom of his body cavity by now. He absolutely hated this time of year; the beginning of summer. ‘Just five more months until Halloween’, more like ‘five more months until he was free to really have some fun’. Like a bear, he’d stored up for winter; numerous bottles of alcohol sitting about the basement, he took them down one at a time. He’d drink… and drink… and drink some more, postponing the need to carve into someone for as long as he could… until Halloween.
The sadistic spirit hadn’t harmed a single hair on anyone’s… ‘living’ head since last year --- and that was on the mere fact that he hadn’t the desire to shackle yet another soul to this godforsaken house; the place was too fucking crowded as is. There was, however, a particular ghost that Skinner enjoyed taking all his anger out on… and that was one of an idiot who couldn’t remember the countless times he had. Oh! But that one time he’d stuck a screwdriver in the back of his head and jerked it about just to see if he could get him to raise his own hand; his favorite. It didn’t work, of course, but the way he twitched was a hoot. Skinner had to cope in other ways for the sixteen years before Spencer came along, but the moment that kid stepped foot in the basement, he knew the coming years were to be much less unbearable.
Not only was Spencer a joy to play with, but the boy tended to make friends rather quickly, bring them about… and one of them had just stumbled right into his web: Winnie, was it? A smirk gracing his features as he watched the girl make her way down, dance about the cold, moldy atmosphere. Feeling nostalgic, he could recall when her counterpart had done the very same before getting eaten alive by Thaddeus --- though it seemed, this time, she was looking for him rather than all his alcohol. The killer kept quiet, his own vision blurred; the darkness doing a well enough job at keeping him hidden that he needn’t a ghostly cloak. At the sound of ‘Bleach’ leaving her sweet, innocent lips, a dastardly grin took hold of his features. “ Done some research, have you? ” He allowed his voice to carry, deep tone coming from all directions so as she wouldn’t be able to depict a particular one. He’d done some research as well. Over time, he heard the arguments she seemed to have with Spencer, noted how protective the boy was of her, and of course, caught the show the two put on right in the house’s entryway. Like two horny rabbits, they went at it. Had they really expected no one would see them in a house so full? Oh, and the act meant more to her than it did to him, didn’t it? So sad.
Skinner was just a rat, an insect, basement dweller, the last you’d expect to notice any minor details --- which was what made this so delicious. This was a special one to Spencer, and Skinner knew that merely on the fact that he’d barely seen her around. The boy wanted to keep her safe, so he’d pushed her away. Fortunately for Skinner, it didn’t work. Finding his moment, out of the darkness he appeared behind her. A hand placed gently on her hip to keep her steady (though he used it to keep himself upright, as well), other hand finding her shoulder, and slowly, the large cold palm glided down the side of her arm as lips parted; quietly, he spoke. “ To what do I owe the pleasure? ”
