Twisted Tale: Fresh Meat

Fresh Meat

A person will do crazy things in the pursuit of love including, but not limited to, agreeing to stay all night painting sets in a creepy theater. I wasn’t sure how I got roped into this situation. One minute I was chatting up a cute girl who I met in the commons area at the school, and the next I’d committed to helping her with her little pet project.

Her name was Nicole, and of course, she didn’t mention up front that her “pet project” was directing the first theatrical performance of the season. Though, to be fair, the fact that I met her while she was handing out sign-up sheets with the rest of the theater majors should have been a hint.

Nicole knew fresh meat when she saw it. She took one look at my obvious try-not-to-look-like-a-freshman façade, and pounced like a wild cat hunting a helpless rabbit. All she had to do was bat those baby blues my way, and BAM. I was committing my precious Friday night to painting the entire set for this year’s production of The Crucible. I never stood a chance.

“The play opens in two days,” she explained, “and my three volunteers who were supposed to help paint the set totally flaked out! Not a word, not a text message, not a phone call. Can you believe it? I’m so lucky you came along when you did, Alvin, or else I would be completely screwed.”

Not unsurprisingly, Nicole seemed to be having trouble finding anyone willing to spend all night in a creepy theater doing volunteer manual labor. Who’d have thought that most people would rather sleep, or literally anything else with their free time? Desperate to not see her directorial debut go up in smoke, she began looking outside of the typical theater crew, offering free pizza and snacks in exchange for hard labor.

On the bright side, I figured that if I followed through, then Nicole would be ever so grateful. Maybe even grateful enough to go on a real date. I had no plans anyway, and there are definitely worse things than spending a night alone with a pretty girl.

I showed up for nine o’clock, as instructed, wearing and old t-shirt and grungy work jeans so I wouldn’t get any of my nice clothes covered in paint. Not exactly the ideal outfit for my pseudo-date, but there was no way I was going to mess up any of my expensive jeans.

Just imagine the look on my face when I showed up at the theater, opened the door, and saw another guy look up at me over a can of paint. From what I could tell, he was struggling to pry open a can with a lid already partially crusted over with dried house paint. It was clear from the expression on his face that he hadn’t been expecting to see me either.

We sized each other up in true alpha male fashion. I concluded that he was a piece of work. I mean, how else would you describe a grown man who choses to wear his dollar sign baseball cap backwards? Between that, and showing up to help paint a stage in the middle of the night, he had a serious case of “trying too hard”. I didn’t feel threatened; not in the slightest!

“Where’s Nicole?” I asked as I nonchalantly shoved my hands into my pockets.

“I’m here!” the echo in the theater made it difficult to pinpoint the source of the chipper voice. “Sorry, I had to run back stage and get our painting supplies. I see you and Kyle have met.”

Right on cue, Nicole emerged from behind the curtain carrying a paint tray piled high with rollers, brushes, and painter’s tape. Unlike my scruffy looking self, she somehow managed to make baggy paint stained overalls and a loose-fitting t-shirt look sexy. I never understood how women could make the wide neck of a shirt drape across their collarbone just so.

Like I said, I never stood a chance, and evidently neither did Kyle.

“You got another volunteer,” I smiled, trying to feign relief. “That’s just … great.”

Kyle shot me a knowing look, “Ya, maybe we won’t be stuck here all night if there are three of us working.”

“Four actually,” corrected Nicole. She set her supplies down on a flimsy workbench, and pulled her phone from her pocket to check the time. “My sister, Kelly, will be joining us as well. She is running late, which is typical, so we might as well just get started without her.”

A sister, huh? If she was anywhere near as beautiful as Nicole, maybe this night would not turn out to be a bust after all.

I’d showed up at any rate, so I figured that I might as well help and get the some of that pizza I’d been promised. We hadn’t even gotten started yet, and I was already starving. What can I say? I am a growing boy, and I need my carbs.

Kyle continued to chip away at the paint can with the end of a flathead screwdriver while Nicole and I put fresh rolls onto the paint roller handles. Then we set up a second work station – a piece of plywood on top of two sawhorses – and laid out swaths of drop cloth so we wouldn’t drip on the pristine black stage.

The work ahead of us seemed momentous even with four people dividing the work. The backdrop of this production of The Crucible consisted of four massive rectangular wooden panels which would be painted into murals. The bottom of each panel was mounted upright on four triangular supports, which had castors bolted to the bottom. The idea was that one or two stage hands would be able to scurry in when the lights were dimmed and switch the murals by rolling them on and off stage.

It was a creative idea, and it looked like it just might work, if the murals could be completed in time. Thankfully, one of the theater students at some point had gone in with a small brush and some white paint to block out what the backdrops would look like. My art skills were virtually non-existent, but even I could manage colouring inside the lines.

Once Kyle finally managed to open that pesky can of paint, he started setting up the trays and pouring the colours we would need to get started. As he did, he pointedly looked around the old theater and grimaced.

“Being a little stingy with the lights, aren’t we?” he asked. “What, are we trying to prevent global warming or something?”

On that point I had to agree. The only lights that seemed to be on in the entire building were the ones directly above us on the stage. The rest of the theater lights were off, which meant I could barely see a thing beyond the first couple rows of seats. Likewise, the wings leading off the stage lined with black velvet curtains appeared to drop off into complete darkness. I want to say that I was concerned that the poor lighting might be a safety hazard – one of us could trip on stage equipment and break our necks – but really it was just plain creepy.

“I need to be able to see how the set is going to look to the audience,” explained Nicole. “The colours on the panels will look different if I turn on every light in the theater.”

I shrugged, that was a good enough explanation for me. I wasn’t an artist, so who was I to judge? Kyle looked a little more skeptical.

We got straight to work once the paint was poured. Each of us took a roller, and set to filling in blocks of colour where things like the sky or the grass would be. I drew the short straw, and got stuck using the rickety old stage ladder to paint the hard to reach places. Let me say, it is a good thing that I am not particularly afraid of heights, or it would have been a bad night.

Occasionally, a conversation between the three of us would start – Nicole seemed determined to bridge the painfully obvious gap between Kyle and myself – but it would always die on the vine as quickly as it had started.

You’d think that, without a radio, we would have craved some chatter to help pass the time, but somehow talking in the theater felt like an intrusion. I think with only the stage lights on, it was as though we were talking in the middle of a live performance. I kept expecting someone sitting out in the darkened theater seats would tell me to hush if I dared to raise my voice above a murmur. In those moments when we lapsed into silence, you could have heard a pencil drop.

It was in one of those moments of perfect silence, when the door to the theater slammed open. The shrill cry of the old door hinges sounded like a scream echoing in the empty space.

I was so startled that I nearly fell off the ladder. In my panic, I dropped the paint roller I’d been holding, so I could hold onto the steps for dear life. Somewhere below me, I heard the fully loaded paint roll hit the drop cloth with a damp splat, followed by the clatter of the plastic handle.

“Oh, come on!” Kyle yelped.

I looked down, and winced. I’d dropped the wet roller right next to Kyle. I didn’t drop it on him, at least not directly. The force of the fall sent blue paint splattering all over Kyle’s new Sketchers and designer jeans.

Who the hell wears new shoes to a painting party anyway?

“Shit, I’m sorry I scared you guys,” said a voice from beyond the glaring stage lights. “I guess I should have knocked, huh?”

Kyle shot me a look, and I shrugged sheepishly. I knew that he wouldn’t complain about the shoes right then, not with Nicole around, but I’d sure as hell hear about it later. I made a mental note not to let him catch me alone outside the theater.

A girl our age walked up the stairs to join us on the stage. I knew without an introduction that this girl had to be Nicole’s sister Kelly. When they stood next to each other, I might have even guessed that they were twins. They were the same height, weight, and they even had their long black hair cut to a similar length. Only minor differences in the shape of the lips and the slant of the eyes kept them from being the perfect mirror image of one another.

Nicole pulled her phone out and checked the time, “You’re over an hour late.”

Kelly just smiled at her sister as she shrugged off her backpack, “My bad, I had stuff for class to catch up on, but I’m here now, so let’s get this party started.”

“Oh, it’s started alright,” I heard Nicole mutter, “an hour and a half ago.”

This night, it seemed, was finally starting to look up, even despite my little mishap with the paint roller. Now that Nicole’s sister had finally showed up, my chances of the night ending on a high note just doubled.

Kelly, clad in a tank top and yoga pants, meandered toward our makeshift workstation and picked up a paintbrush.

“I have to say, sis, you’re a heck of a lot braver than I am. When you said you were going to paint in here at night, I thought you’d lost your mind. Almost nobody is willing to come within a hundred yards of this place at night.” Kelly gave Kyle and I a pointed glance, “Let me guess, the two of you are fresh meat – I mean freshmen?”

Neither of us spoke, but it was answer enough.

“Thought so,” Kelly snorted, “and I am guessing that Nicole here did not tell you what happened in this theater ten years ago? She didn’t mention why none of the other theater students were willing to come here to help?”

Kyle shot me a sideways glance, eyebrows raised as if to say, “Really?”

“Ok, I’ll bite,” I said, wanting to humor Kelly more than I wanted to hear the story, “What happened here ten years ago?”

“Kelly, don’t,” Nicole snapped.

“I’m so glad you asked,” a grin spread across Kelly’s face, “Let me tell you about poor, unfortunate, Lucy Price.”

To any of you who have ever told a scary story around a campfire, I suggest that you consider doing the same inside an empty theater at night. I’ve never been the kind of guy who believes in spirits and all that stuff, but the atmosphere on that stage was perfect for scaring the crap out of each other.

Kelly took a deep breath, and then dove right in, “It all started ten years ago inside this theater. Everyone was hard at work putting together that year’s production of The Crucible. Lucy Price was one of the theater students, and the actress chosen to play the part of Abigail. From what I heard, the professor that year just loved Lucy, if you pardon the pun. He would have given her any part she wanted if she asked. He figured that by giving her a major part in every production, he could get into her pants. I know, what a creep, right?”

The elder of the two sisters rolled her eyes. I wondered how many times she’d heard this story.

“Anyway, early one morning the first round of rehearsals start, and one of the students walks out onto the stage, right into a massive puddle of blood. It had been right there in front of everyone’s eyes all morning, but nobody had noticed because the stage is always painted black, so it was tough to see.”

Kelly paused for dramatic effect, and to make sure Kyle and I were still listening, “At first, they didn’t know where the blood had come from. The police came to investigate, but without anything to compare it to, all they could tell was that the blood was female. It was the talk of the school for two days. Everyone was speculating, trying to guess what had happened in the theater that night, right up until some of the students started to notice that Lucy hadn’t shown up for her classes in a while. Everyone searched for her, but nobody could find a trace of her. She just disappeared into thin air. Finally, someone had the bright idea to test the blood on the stage against some hair from a brush in Lucy’s dorm room, and determined that it was a match.”

“Did they ever find her body?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.

Kelly shook her head, “No, her body was never found, but there was more than enough blood on the stage to suggest that she’d bled out. Everyone just assumed that she was dead, so there wasn’t exactly a school wide search, not unless you count the jokers who broke in here to see if they could find a dead body hidden under the stage. Of course, everyone suspected the professor who’d been pining after Lucy, but with no body and no murder weapon, the trail just kind of went cold.”

I couldn’t help but crack a smile, “Is this the part where you tell me that her ghost still haunts this theater?”

Kyle chuckled under his breath beside me. He wasn’t buying it either.

“Do you want me to tell the rest of the story or not?” she asked. When we didn’t respond, she continued, “Ever since then, people who visit this theater at night report strange things happening. Lights would flicker, even though electricians claim that there is nothing wrong with the wiring. Some people would walk into spots so cold that they could see their breath. Other people said that they’d heard a woman screaming.”

“Chilling.” The sarcasm in Kyle’s voice was obvious.

“And then there are the disappearances,” Kelly whispered in a conspiratorial tone. “Workers who would come here in the evening to work after hours would just go missing without a trace. Even campus security doesn’t like coming out here on their rounds. Half the time they don’t walk through the front doors because they are afraid that they will be next.”

We stood in silence, the final words hanging in the air. Say what you want about Kelly, but that girl can tell a mean ghost story.

“Now that you’ve had your fun,” said an exasperated Nicole, “can we please get to work?”

Things livened up a little after that, and became a lot less dreary. Kelly was just bursting full of energy, and could practically keep a conversation going all on her own. Time flew by, right up until the point when I remembered that I’d been promised pizza in exchange for my services.

“Hey, did either of you order the food yet? It’s getting late, and I’m starving,” I complained.

Before Nicole could open her mouth to answer, her sister piped up, “Oh, I called ahead and told them to deliver it here. That was a while ago, come to think of it. Why don’t I step out and give them a call? The cellphone service in here is spotty, and the delivery guy might have gotten lost.”

“Kelly-” Nicole tried to get her attention, but jumped off the stage and darted for the door before any of us could get in a word.

I could see the frustration on Nicole’s face plain as day. It was easy enough to see which one of them was the mature older sister, and which one was the wild child. I got the impression that Nicole would rather Kelly not showed up, but she needed the extra hands, so she couldn’t say no.

I shrugged and flashed her a smile, “I wish I had half that energy.”

Kelly couldn’t have been gone for more than a minute or two at most when we heard the scream. All three of us jumped to attention. Kyle and I exchanged a look. There was no doubt about it, that was Kelly’s voice.

We dropped our brushes and rollers where we stood, not giving a damn whether we got paint all over the stage. Kyle, being taller and more athletically inclined, bolted ahead and left me in his dust.

The scream had come from down the hall, in one of the rooms that the theater students used for rehearsals. All the lights were out, save for the security lights in the hall, which reflected on the mirrors lining the far wall. If Kelly was in there, I could not tell. She could have been standing two feet in front of me and I would have walked right into her.

Nicole was the last one to arrive. She grabbed me by the elbow and stayed behind me as she peered into the practice hall.

“You come in here all the time,” Kyle hissed back to Nicole. “Mind getting the lights?”

She was reluctant to let go of my arm, but saw that she didn’t have much of a choice. Taking a deep breath, she released her grip, and scuttled over to the row of light switches a few feet to our right.

There was a bit of a delay in the old wires. I counted nearly four seconds between when I heard the switches flip and when the bulbs finally began to buzz to life. One by one, the stage lights mounted to the ceiling illuminated the big empty room. The glare on the freshly waxed floor and full length mirrors was harsh enough that it made my eyes water.

I wish I could tell you that we found Kelly there, grinning and telling us that it was all a big joke. It would have been just like Kelly to be so jovial and carefree, but as you can probably guess, that is not how this story goes.

I saw it in the mirror first, a sea of deep red staining the tile floors. Part of me remembers thinking, that is way too much blood for just one person, especially someone as petite as Kelly. I suppose that is what happens when the human throat is cut ear to ear.

Kyle, having run blindly ahead, was standing right next to the body, and smack dab in the middle of the widening puddle of blood. His eyes flew wide open as he attempted to stumble back. He had no thought of checking the body for vital signs, not that it would have done any good.

The heel of Kyle’s boot slid right out from under him, leaving a pinkish streak on the floor. He flailed his arms out in all directions, unconsciously seeking something to break his fall, but there was nothing around to steady himself. He hit the floor with a wet slap, falling completely flat on his back as the heels of his hands slid across the viscous liquid.

Nicole’s hands flew to her mouth, “Oh shit.”

That struck me as such an odd thing to say at a time like this. The way she said it, made her sound somewhat annoyed. Like, how dare Kelly get herself killed at a time like this?

Her words snapped me out of my obvious shock. I walked to the edge of the blood, and extended a hand to help Kyle to his feet. He slopped blood all over my outstretched hand as I helped haul him to his feet, but I didn’t give a damn. Whoever did that to Kelly could still be in the room, and I wanted to get all three of us the hell out of there as quickly as possible.

The blood was sticky between my fingers, and cold to the touch. Now that is strange, right? Kelly was out of our sight for only a few minutes, and we’d run into the room seconds after we heard her scream. If that was all true, then shouldn’t her blood still be warm? The thought only crossed my mind for a moment before my survival instinct battled its way to the forefront of my mind. Better to get to safety first and ask questions later.

Kyle got shakily to his feet, bloodied clothes sticking to the skin of his back. He held his arms away from his body, like a scarecrow in a field, as though walking like that would keep the blood from touching his skin. His face was as white as a sheet, and his hands were shaking. Take it from me, when a guy like Kyle is that shaken, you know shit has really hit the fan.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I said, grabbing Nicole by the arm. “We need to call the cops.”

Nicole’s eyes darted around the room, suspiciously scanning racks of costumes, and boxes of props piled high in the corners. There were so many places to hide in the theater building. If someone did jump out and attack us, we would never see it coming.

I took her by the wrist and dragged her to the door. She didn’t resist as I took off at a dead run in the hallway, making my way back toward the main entrance where I’d come through earlier that night. Nicole struggled to keep up with my panicked flight from the practice hall. I dragged her onward, keeping her on her feet when she looked like she might stumble or fall. We didn’t have time for her to be that girl in a horror movie.

The entrance to the theater building was in the main foyer. I could see the wide wooden double doors looming ahead of us. This building was part of the original school construction, and the door had been part of that design. That meant that the massive oak panels were nearly a hundred years old, which was a shame, seeing as someone had gone and carved four long gauges straight across them. The ruts in the wood were deep, and jagged, almost as though something big had dragged its claws across the wood. The floor was littered with splinters which broke free in chunks.

“What the-” was all I managed to sputter.

How had none of us heard this kind of damage? They looked like claw marks, but they were way to big to belong to any animal that could survive in the city, which meant that someone had gone to town with a knife on those doors. What is more peculiar is that the culprit would have needed a ladder to make the marks extend so high up. The top of the gauges started a good four feet above my head. Even Kyle wouldn’t have been able to get that kind of reach with a knife.

Speaking of Kyle, why didn’t I hear him? The sound of me and Nicole heaving to catch our breaths filled the hall, but nothing else. When I thought about it, I realized that I also didn’t remember hearing Kyle follow us out of the room. To my credit, I had been just a little distracted.

I spun around, expecting to see Kyle to running to catch up with us. I figured he was shaken, and maybe he wasn’t moving as fast anymore, but the hallway behind us was empty. No Kyle, no Kelly, and no psycho killer. Hell, I don’t think Kyle ever made it out into the hallway. If he had, he would have tracked the blood on his shoes all over the tile floors.

“Where did he go?” Nicole’s voice wavered, raising in pitch ever so slightly. “Kyle? Kyle!”

“Shush,” I hissed. The last thing we needed was Nicole giving us away.

Ignoring the deep gashes in the door, I pulled on the brass handles as hard as I could. The doors didn’t move, not one inch. I tried again, and again, but no such luck.

Now, I knew the doors were heavy, but they weren’t that heavy, and I could see the deadbolt on the inside was not latched.

“How is this door locked from the outside?” I asked, mostly to myself.

“Are you kidding me?” asked Nicole. She had to try it for herself, so I watched as she tried in vain to make the doors swing open. She didn’t so much as rattle the hinges. “What the hell?!”

I clamped my hand over her mouth, and put my finger to my lips. She was scared, that much was obvious, but she was starting to panic, and I needed her to stay with me.

She took in a deep breath, and licked her lips. Finally, she spoke in a hoarse whisper, “There is another exit behind the stage. It’s a loading dock, we use it to bring in the supplies to build the sets.”

I swallowed hard. It was our only shot, but I didn’t like the idea of walking back into that dark theater a second time. Someone could easily hide in the theater seats, or just behind the curtains. Something seemed off about the entire situation. I felt like I was being herded like cattle toward the slaughterhouse, but what other choice did I have?

“Stay close,” I whispered to Nicole. She nodded in agreement as she clung to my arm.

If we survived this night, I decided that I would ask this girl out on a real date. Maybe next time it would be somewhere populated and well-lit.

We moved cautiously toward the doors to the theater, deciding it was better to take things slow and quiet, instead of running through a potential killing ground in a blind panic. My eyes swept each row of seats, but it didn’t do much good. Someone could have been crouching behind one of the backrests only a few feet away and I never would have known. Armed with nothing but my charming personality, I wouldn’t stand a chance if someone leapt out of the dark with a knife.

As we approached the stairs to the stage, Nicole’s fingers tightened their grip until my hand nearly went numb. I winced from the pain, but didn’t dare make a sound.

I took the stairs to the stage one at a time; moving slowly and cautiously. Suddenly being in front of the stage lights, bearing down on me like a dozen tiny suns, did not make me feel any safer. What little night vision I had would be burned away.

We walked across the stage, where our painting supplies laid abandoned, along with one new addition that I hadn’t spotted from down in the seats. I froze, and only narrowly resisted pissing my pants. Nicole stifled a small scream with her hand, and buried her face in my back.

Two bodies lay on the stage, oozing blood all over the drop cloth. I recognized Kyle’s paint splattered Sketchers before I saw his face, which was staring sightlessly up at the ceiling above the pulpy mess that had once been the soft flesh of his throat. Kelly’s body lay posed next to him, on her side, embracing his right arm against her chest. The pose might have looked sweet if not for the obvious gore.

I gagged, the smell of blood was so strong it was overwhelming. There was a sour smell under all that copper that churned my stomach.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth. I was going to puke all over the stage. “Nicole, don’t look. Just don’t look, OK?”

The shoulder of Kelly’s corpse shuddered, so slightly at first that I barely caught the movement. I squinted and looked closer, momentarily forgetting the rancid smell of spoiled blood. Then I saw it again, more pronounced this time, Kelly’s corpse was … laughing?

Kelly broke out into a fit of uncontrollable giggles, clutching Kyle’s limp arm against her heaving stomach. She threw her head back, smearing her blood-soaked hair across her cheeks. Her hysterical laugher echoed against the dark, unseen ceiling.

“Oh man,” Kelly said between fits of giggles. She gasped for air, trying to control her laughter, “I’m sorry, I broke character, didn’t I? Did you see his face? I just couldn’t hold it in anymore!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nicole shake her head. She didn’t seem mad, or shocked that her sister was alive. She looked tired, and irritated.

“Will you get up already? You’re smearing that blood everywhere,” snapped Nicole. “You know, we’re going to have to clean up this mess, right? I hope you’re happy.”

Kelly continued to wheeze in laughter as she struggled to her feet, “So worth it.”

My jaw dropped, and I don’t mean that as an expression. My mouth hung open stupidly like I was trying to catch some flies. I could not believe it.

I could feel my blood pressure rising as I stared down the sisters, “You mean, this was a fucking joke? What the hell?! I thought you were dead. I thought we were going to die! This isn’t funny!”

Kelly looked at me and snorted, “Oh, don’t be such a pussy. I gave you what you wanted, didn’t I?” She held one hand to her chest, and one against her forehead as though she were feigning a swoon. The grin on her blood covered face made her look crazed and sadistic, “Oh Nicole, don’t look. Let me, the big strapping man, protect you from the killer. Then, maybe once we are safe I can take you back to my dorm, and you can show me just how grateful you really are.”

Heat rushed to my face, and I gritted my teeth. I fought back the urge to continue screaming at Kelly, not because I was embarrassed – ok, maybe I was a little embarrassed – but because I knew she would just start laughing harder.

“Shut up,” I snapped, as I stalked over to where Kyle was still laying unmoving in a pool of what I knew now to be stage blood. No wonder it had been so cold when I touched it earlier. I felt like an idiot for not realizing it before. I gave Kyle’s shoulder a kick with the toe of my shoe, “Hey man, the joke is over. Get your ass up.”

Kyle stayed still and silent. He didn’t move a muscle, he didn’t blink, and he didn’t breathe.

“Didn’t you hear me? Get up Kyle, I’ve had enough joking around,” I repeated, though not with the same level of confidence.

This time, I reached down and grabbed him by the shoulder, and gave him a proper shake. His head lolled from side to side, seemingly only attached to the body by the spine, and a few strands of muscle. More blood dripped lazily from the ruined flesh and onto the floor.

I grabbed at Kyle’s wrist, determined to find a pulse. All those basic first aid classes in high school gym classes seemed so fuzzy and distant. Why hadn’t I paid more attention? I placed two fingers on the fleshy underside of his wrist, which was still warm, but I felt no obvious signs of life. I reached across the body and groped for the other arm, but the result was the same.

“Fresh meat is so sweet, isn’t it?” asked Kelly in the syrupy voice of someone experiencing an intense high. “Plump, bright-eyed freshmen tastes like a fine cut of veal.”

My knees turned to Jell-O and crumpled under my weight. The primal part of my brain where my survival instinct lived screamed for me to run away, but my body had no more adrenaline to keep me going. My arms and legs felt numb, heavy, and completely useless. All I could manage was to steal a glance over my shoulder, where Kelly and Nicole stood shoulder to shoulder.

Nicole’s expression was a solemn mask, betraying no emotion, and no pity. In contrast, her sister continued to giggle into her blood covered hands like a child. A row of vicious needle like teeth glittered in the stage lights behind her grinning lips as she slowly lowered her hands.

“We could have done this without all the theatrics,” Nicole grumbled dryly as she crossed her arms. “What a mess.”

“But what better place for theatrics than in a theater?” asked Kelly with a shrug.

“Didn’t mother ever tell you not to play with your food?”

“Didn’t she tell you to live a little? You can be such a grouch sometimes, you know that?” Kelly gestured in my direction, “You have to eat, what does it matter if I had my fun first? Now, are you going to take a bite, or do I get him all to myself?”

Both sisters looked at me with gleaming dark eyes. They were old eyes, looking through beautiful young faces designed to lure their prey, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Nicole smiled at me the way she did in the commons when I first found her looking for willing victims to follow her into the theater at night when there would be nobody around to hear them scream for help. Her perfect pearly white smile was replaced by two rows of wickedly sharp carnivorous teeth.

Is it strange for me to say that she still somehow looked beautiful? It was like gazing at the face of an apex predator; powerful creatures perfected by hundreds of thousands of years of evolution or more. They were sleek and graceful – nature’s perfect killing machines – the kind of beautiful which should only be admired from afar.

I’d never really stood a chance, had I?