The Vault

The girl staggered backwards, the brick in her hand too heavy for her weak frame. The stranger lay on the ground in front of her, the back of her head caved in, blood and brains leaking out. She fell to the floor, breathing heavily, mentally and physically exhausted.

Her entire body shaking, she crawled to the body, a smile in her blank eyes as she touched the still, warm skin. The stranger was skinny, there was hardly anything hanging off of her bones, but she would do. The girl would not be going hungry tonight.

Her excitement gave her new found energy, so she rose as steadily as she could stumbling into the corner to pick up the tape player before heading towards the back room. There the television flickered, angry male voices shouting from the screen. She had to lean her whole body into the screen to press the off switch. Silence.

She lumbered back into the main room before falling to the floor in front of her latest victim. She started to gage before peeling back the tape on her mouth. What was left on the inside was rotten and eaten into, her throat and tongue decaying flesh lying stagnant, maggots and worms feasting on it, burrowing holes and leaving chunks hanging. She had no front teeth, just canines, and blackened bleeding gums. And it had been like that as long as she could remember, the flesh of others swallowed and regurgitated, left to fester in her mouth before it was swallowed back down.

She let out a primal roar, but choked on a beetle which crawled down the back of her throat. She swallowed hard, crushing it, giggling as the juices ran down.

The time for waiting was over, now was the time for eating. Using her teeth, she bit into the stranger’s stomach, grabbing the soft organs in her hands, lapping up the blood like a dog. And so into the early hours of the morning, she ate and ate, peeling skin from flesh and tearing flesh from bone, until the body was completely devoured.



It was late morning in another room in the tunnels, the air still thick with the stench of rotting corpses, but somewhat clearer that the main hall. The girl had woken up and had washed all over, replacing her dirty stained rags from the night before with clean grey ones. You could smell the faint scent of lemons on her skin trying to push back the heavy mask of the rotten.

She then picked up the brush on the side of the sink and looking into the mirror stroked her hair. She liked the feel of the brush gliding through, untangling the knots and leaving it feeling smooth; it reminded her of some distant memory, a past long forgotten. Then when she was satisfied, she carefully placed the brush down before picking up the mascara. She skilfully layered the black ink over her eyes, another distant memory of her watching another.

She liked to make herself look nice. It gave her some control, some stability, some normality. Then, trying not to stare at her unsightly mouth, she placed the tape over the rotting hole. She sighed, gazing into her ashen eyes. They used to scare her, but not anymore. She closed them, laying a hand against the wall. Vibrations. Footsteps. Someone was coming. She felt her face creep into a smile as she rushed back towards the main hall through to the back room where she switched the television on. Another victim, another meal. She quickly picked up the tape recorder before returning and then shackled herself to the wall. With a smile in her blank eyes, she sat down, relaxed and pressed play.