[Candycane]: 728.Random.Insanity's Worst

Legends have a way of scarring us, and scaring us. Fear grips our throats, squeezing as if they'll never let go, until the light comes. We can breath easy knowing these legends won't ever happen to us, knowing we're safe in our little homes, our lives free from harm and tragedy.

That's not true, one bit. The life of one teenage girl proves that anyone's life is in the hands of another, especially with someone whose grown close, too close. As the saying goes, however, keep your friends close; and your enemies closer.

Dark clouds blocked out any scenery above, the horizon included. Winds sped droplets of water towards the earth, hurling them against windows and bricks, wood and shingles, roofing and cement. Lightning lit up the sky like fireworks, every few seconds, giving a very dangerous, sparatic movement on the scene below, in a local abandoned insane asylum. Here, it appeared to have no one inside it, but without inspection inside, you never know what you're going to find.

The spine of a man tingled with delight as the chainsaw's razors circled the given path. Mischief strung out through both the being's eyes as the wide pearly white smile broadened easily seen in contrast with the nearly pitch black background. You could almost say they were glowing.

Fear gripped the restrained adolescent, the female teenager's mouth sewn shut with thick candle wicks, the wax still coating them. Blood dripped down, the pain having felt almost natural when she attempted to open it. Her wide eyes almost pleaded with the prosthetics doctor holding the chainsaw dangerously close to her mid section. She could barely blink with fear gripping her mind.

Having tied up all his courage, the psychotic doctor beared down the saw, splattering blood over the clear plastic face-cover he'd doned before beginning, his eyes and grin visible in the flickering torch light surrounding the room. A few small windows lit up with a bright light, highlighting falling raindrops, a blaring torrent storming outside. It seemed to be the perfect background for the story, but alas, this is not finished.

When the saw hit her stomach, the girl screamed. Her lips were ripped with the force she opened her jaw with and that only gave her the high, blood-curtling scream that pierced the air, sending shivers up anyone's spine. Quickly, though, she intook breath to scream more, her pain magnified only by her fear.

The man stopped, lifting the chainsaw from a half-finished job and leaned his head, questioningly at the teenager. Her eyes were bloodshot from the salty tears running down her cheeks and her mouth and lips were far bloodier than anything anyone could ever imagine. He smiled lovingly at her, stopping the machine and setting it on a table. His right hand carressed the forehead, brushing hair from her pretty little face. "You were going to be imortalized," he said, quietly. Thunder almost prevented the words from being heard, but alas, the room echoed. "You were going to help me." With a quick movement, his hand found her throat. "But now you will die!"

Her scream muffled as his hand clenched around her voice box and ventilation tubes. The blood flow to her brain slowed immensely, and just as she thought she was going to black out and die, he released her. She gasped in air, both through her nose and her mouth, inhaling a bit of blood as well, which only made her cough it back up. She had squeezed her eyes shut until he let go, when she looked at him with pure fear, hatred, and very slight curiosity.

The man saw this face she made, the face that always disgusted him. He walked around her head to the other side and picked up a glass container, meant for sugar. He smiled and indicated with his free hand the lable was torn off. "Won't this be a surprise? Sugar or salt? Want to find out?" Before the teenager could answer, he unscrewed the top and dumped it over her wound. He stopped when half was sinking in, clinging to the other as the salt absorbed the crimson liquid.

Restrained, she fought for it to get out. Had her hands been free, she would've scratched the wound until the salt stopped stinging. Her half-scream was shakey, scratchy from the previous attempted strangulation. Now, she wished to die. Her death meant no suffering, but this man, this so called doctor wouldn't allow it.

"Got anything to say, now?" he screamed, a bit of spit shooting at her face. He came within centimeters of her obviously pained face. A quick glance over it and he pressed his lips against hers. It hurt her, and he reveled in it. He knew her eyes were closed, he was watching. With a needle, he forced it into her stomach, directly between two ribs on her left. Her eyes popped open, only to meet the dangerous ones. She could feel the need injecting something into her, and couldn't fight it.

The man leaned back, away from her, licking the blood from his lips before he yanked out the needle, the syringe empty. He carelessly set it down on the table, walking back around the examination table the teenage girl was restrained to before he smiled evilly as the dead body shuddered before it stopped moving. Lightning struck, as if on cue, and lit up the windows, the torches snuffing out simultaneously, leaving his eyes and smile glowing before the pitch black hid the murderer from any sight at all.