Destroy what Destroys you
Chapter 8-Camille's POVI stumbled out of bed, falling to the floor because my legs were too weak. My head was still pounding. I had a huge gash where the chainsaw had hit me in the back of my head. I looked at my wrists, which were bruised and covered with dark dry blood. The same for my ankles, just not as severe.
I was weak, but not weak enough to walk. I didn’t hear any chains, so I proceeded to check out the place. The next room was dimly light by a few old light bulbs, covered in dust, hanging by a chain from the ceiling. There was something on the walls, covering it like tiles. They were all the same size; I would say 4 by 3 inches by the outlines. I took hold of a chain of a light bulb and dragged it over to the wall so I could see. I gasped at the sight.
On the left on the covered wall, was a column of names. All of the names of the girls that were reported missing and more. More than I could ever imagine. In every row of the column of names, there were pictures. The pictures showed the girls from being healthy, the time they arrived, and progressed through to when they were gaunt, the time before they were killed.
I walked over to where there was an empty row. I used the light bulb to read the name. I knew this was his next victim, so I wanted to know who it was. I already had a pretty good idea of whose name was on the end of the column. My prediction was correct. It was mine.
I knew this would happen, but I knew I could beat Michael. I’ve studied him. I know what he does to the girls. I know the mistakes the girls made. I will not end up like them, no matter how painful it is. Whatever I have to go through, whatever the cost is, I will kill Michael.
Something dripped onto the tip of my nose. I thought it was water, since there was water leaking from the ceiling from the rain. But this was warm. I wiped it off my nose and put the light to my fingers so I could see that it was just rainwater. I was wrong. There was a red substance spread across my fingers. I knew from past experience what it was. Anyone would know what was on my fingers. It was obvious. I wish it was red dye or red food coloring, but it wasn’t. It was blood. It wasn’t animal blood, it was human blood.
I looked up to see a dismembered body hanging above me. I knew that body. I was Mace’s. Oh God. What had I done? I gasped and covered my mouth, backing up with my eyes still on the body. I tripped and fell over another body piece. I couldn’t make out if it was a leg or arm. I fell face first into the ground, looking at a surprise. I was eye to eye with Mace’s head.
Don’t scream, don’t scream. I reminded myself. He feeds off of fear. All Michael needed was one little scream and he could be more powerful than the US Army, Navy and Air Force combined. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I slowly got up, my body covered in my blood mixed with Mace’s. I was behind Mace’s death. It wasn’t Michael, it was me. I had dragged him here when he wanted to go to the station. He was always right. I part of me died inside knowing that it was my fault. I was the killer here, not Michael.
But if I was the killer, maybe I could feed off of fear. I could gain strength from my own fear. Getting Michael to be afraid would be too hard. Using my fear, my revulsion, my consternation into building vigor and myself to become strong. He wasn’t going to be able to stop me.