Notes

You’re wrists burn against the cold steel that pins you to the wall. You feel helpless and too scared to scream. You take a quick look around yourself, examining the room as if you had just been brought into existence. The dimly lit room shows a camera in the corner and a small table in the other. is a toothy-white, not counting the pale red stains surrounding all the cuffed areas of the room. In these cuffed areas lay three scantily clothed women, unconscious. Two to your left and one to your right. Bruises and blood line their faces. Tears welled up in your eyes as you come to notice you are as they are… barely clothed. Topless, in fact. You feel ashamed and scared.Words can barely escape your scratched throat as you try to wake the other captives.
One twitches and slowly gains consciousness… She takes a deep breath and instantly catches into a panic.


“W-wh-where the fuck am I!?”, She says looking around the room, beginning to hyperventilate.


She notices you’re awake. You give her a concerned look and ask for her name.


“Why does it matter? Where am I!?”


You explain to her you have just awoken as well and you have no memory of this place or whom the other women are.


“My…. My name is Clara. Yours?”


You give her your name. From the look in her jaded, hazel eyes that a little hope has reached her heart.


The metal door in the center of a wall across the room slowly creaks open. The light released from the opening wakes the other captives. Of course, they panic. The coldening breeze brings a shiver to your weak spine.


All hope in Clara’s eyes vanish and dread begins to set in.


A silhouette of a man steps in and sets a large duffel bag onto the cold floor. Metal clanging is heard from the impact.


Your voice cracks, asking what the bag contains. The man quickly looks up at you. He slams the door closed and everyone flinches and closes their eyes. As the light dissipates from the room once more, you can see the man that has entered the room is of an athletic build, black, grotesque tattoos depicting death and unclothed girls cover his arms and neck. He wears an intimidating mask about his face… the leather straps surround a shaven head and uncomfortably pierced ears. He was no more than 18 or 20 years of age.
Despite his masculine build, he has a light voice. He must’ve been a smoker. The dry throat doesn’t let words out cleanly.


“Oh, goody!”, Even with the mask you see his disturbing smile. “You all are awake. For a moment I thought I would have to do the honors of waking my next few contestants.”


“C-Contestants?”


“Shut the FUCK UP!”, He throws a pipe wrench in her direction. He misses but passes the point very well.
She begins to bawl and nearly faints.
He clears his throat.


“Pardon my… misbehaviour.” He squats down and searches the duffel bag. “Outside of this room, I am a highly respected, gentlemanly figure. Very rich. Very attractive. I wouldn’t be this way if it weren’t-”


He cuts himself off as he grabs out a thin blade.


“Aha! Oh. Well… as I was saying. I wouldn’t be this way if it weren’t for this release of all the anger in my life. All the stress seems to build in my shoulders y’know? It’s like my own personal ‘Purge’.”


A little, crackly giggle pushes its way through his closed mouth and mask. He slips on black rubber gloves.


He approaches the center of the room and stops abruptly.


“Now…” Begins to whisper under his breathe. He points the long thin scalpel-like knife at each of you. “... Eenie, meenie, minie…”


He stops on Clara.


“You.”


She looks up and her freckled face turns red and wet mascara runs down her cheeks.


“Me?”


“No. The other one…. Yes, you.”


He places the blade against her chest.


“Choose a value from the numerals 1 through 4.”


Her eyes widen.


“Uh… uh…”


She begins to panic, again. He applies pressure to the thin blade, breaking skin and drawing blood from her soft flesh. She lets out a high pitched squeal and she tries to move but she is helplessly bound to the brick wall.


“I SAID CHOOSE.”


She cries out.

“One!.... One! I choose one….”

He whispers in her ear. Keeping his teeth clenched:


“Good effort.”


He slowly carves a roman numeral ‘one’ between her breasts.
Her screams are enough to make the deaf wince. He watches as the shining blood runs down her soft, white skin. He wipes blood from her breast and rubs it between his fingers.


“Fuckin’ ‘ell. You. Are. A loud one! Ha!”


He steps closer, his nose and forehead press against hers. His stiffened fingers press against her cheeks and chin as he violently lifts her head.


“I love loud. I think I’m gonna play with you a little more later.”


He steps back to the center of the room, pointing the newly red blade. The ‘eenie meenie’ approach seemed to be routine. After the other girls ‘received’ their number, you are the only left.


“Well. Hello number four!”


The steel blade is warm from the other’s blood. He pushes lightly but the blade still punctures with great precision. He slides the blade quickly through your skin, even with the swift slices it feels as if an eternity passes until he finishes. You feel the blood run down your breasts. The pain is so strong you can feel th ‘IV’ burned across your chest.


“Well now. Let’s play a liiittllle game.”


He knelt back down and dug his hands greedily into the duffel bag. This time, revealing a chainsaw.


“This game is called ‘What I Did Last Night’.... You”


He points the chainsaw up at II.


“What were YOU doing last night, cutie-face?”


“Um-Uh… I was with my boyfriend.”


“Ooh. Boyfriend? Doing what?”


“Sex…”


“Ooooh, we got ourselves a baaaad girrrl, here.”


His smile turned to a pissed frown.


“Are you sure it was your so-called ‘boyfriend’?