Sweet Charlotte

It was such an unkempt room. The four-sided wall was covered with a torn, brown wallpaper that had crimson blood splattered in some spots. There were bloody hand prints on the wall, too. The floor was wooden, and some boards were flimsy and loose. They creaked with whatever step someone took. The room smelled of rotten water, and dead bodies. It was the sanctuary of where he would take his victims and kill them, making masks of some sort with their own body parts.

It was a barely furnished room, only having an operation table at the back of the room, and a shelf full of tools used for opening and cutting his victims.

“Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day...” She sang happily, yet through her drowsy state, she sounded weak. She smiled lazily while looking out the window. Her bruised and injured body lay still on the cold, wooden floor. She was on her side, and her hands were underneath her head. She lay in a fetal position.

“We want to go outside and play... come again some other day,” She finished. Her smile widened. The rain was pouring harder and harder. It hit the windowsill, making loud thumping sounds. It was a song she and her mother sang together when she was younger whenever it rained, but all that changed. Everything changed.