The House By The River: A Paranormal Horror Novel

Chapter 11

Gina woke up a few minutes after six and asked for water. Weak and hungry, she tried to finish a bowl of chicken macaroni soup Matt had prepared just for her. She only managed to consume half of it.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, she was back in bed and fell asleep again. Emmy was relieved. For the first time, Gina no longer had chills. She didn’t moan or whine or toss in bed like she did before she woke up.

It was only eight but the house was already silent. Jean fell asleep on the couch while watching a movie with her dad. Matt took her to her room. Matt offered to look after the eldest daughter but Emmy declined. Matt decided to retire early.

Emmy was left sitting by Gina’s bed once more. A tray containing dirty dishes, both from Gina’s meal and hers, lay by the foot of the bed towards the door.

Her relief at the improvement in Gina’s condition, plus the meal Matt made, made her relax. She slumped on the chair that she had now lined with a folded comforter to make it more comfortable. Emmy tried to read more but was afraid she’d fall asleep. She opted to review the book she had been reading instead.

With Gina seemingly better, Emmy’s imagination began to fly. She was not imagining anything grand. She was just nitpicking all the silly things she’d read about so far. It wasn’t long before she stopped nitpicking altogether and gave in to the imagined world in her head. Half-awake and half-asleep her imaginings came alive, witnessing the scenes first-hand.

She watched the billionaire werewolf with vampire blood took an interest with one of the new slaves – a shy young woman who had been sold into slavery to pay for her family’s debts. She watched their awkward interaction blossom into a whirlwind romance, to the envy of the other, similarly smitten slaves. Emmy watched them go on dates, talk all the way till dawn, take vacations, and make stupidly unrealistic love under the full moon.

The hybrid werewolf master was exactly as she imagined when he wasn’t in his furry state. Tall, muscular, long-haired, snobbish, and with a jawline that could cut glass. The woman was exactly as Emmy imagined her too – herself.

A scene played that almost roused her from her deep imaginings. It was not in the books. She wondered briefly about it, but her imagination won and she was soon back into the highly imaginative state, watching intently as the display unfolded before her eyes.

It was a kitchen scene. The young slave was tasked to prepare the master’s dinner for the first time. The head cook was giving her a hard time, critiquing each thing she did. When the lord of the manor entered, wearing an immaculate suit, everything else blended into the background. It was just the billionaire and the slave he was falling for. Their gazes met, and everything stopped, the surroundings starting to become clear again. They were in Gina’s bedroom.

Emmy bolted from the chair. The life drained from her face. Instead of the kitchen counter, they stood beside Gina’s raised bed. Instead of vegetables, the woman was slicing her daughter’s left arm. Blood sprayed the woman’s face as she hacked with abandon, severing the arm below the elbow.

Gina’s right hand raised towards Emmy, beckoning her to come close. Beckoning her to help. A shocked expression was permanently plastered on Gina’s face, mouth agape, eyes pleading. She took a step and froze.

Emmy was rooted to the spot. Her body would not respond. She willed her limbs to move as she tried to scream. No sound came out her throat. By reflex, she tried to reach for her throat, but her hands would not obey. She tried to move her face but her gaze was stuck, forced to watch the carnage unfold.

A scream erupted. Emmy could hardly recognize her own daughter’s voice as Gina screamed a most horrific scream. Every slice the woman did, Gina’s voice faltered. Every time the large knife was brought down, Gina’s body rocked. Her daughter’s eyes began to darken to a deep red. Soon, blood dripped from the corners, etching a path on her face while her shrieks continued.

She felt the urge to vomit. The woman’s face turned a deeper shade every time the knife connected with Gina’s helpless body. Her daughter’s stomach was ripped in on the left side, sliced open at many different angles. The putrid stench of bile and feces started to fill the room. The woman stuck the pointed edge in and lifted it at angle. Gina’s intestine was on display before the edge of the knife and gravity sliced it, falling with a plopping sound, slapping Gina’s cheek.

The entire bed had taken on a deep red color, blood started to drip to the floor. Gina opened her mouth a last time, only managing to make gurgling sounds before her eyes glazed over. Her raised hand went limp and dropped to the side of the bed. Emmy tried to struggle, to break away from the invisible hold that pinned her where she stood.

The urge to vomit was strong but even her insides seemed to be paralyzed. Instead, vomit rose up from her stomach slowly, burning a path through her throat, and dribbling out from her open mouth. Emmy could not even cough to clear throat and mouth.

Anguish, desperation, anger, and despair all rose up within her. Emmy felt like her heart would either break free from her chest cavity or fail from beating too hard. She was trapped and helpless. Her own thoughts only adding to the horrors she was witnessing. Emmy wanted to just keel over and die.

The man who had his back to Emmy up to this point, watching the dismemberment intently, slowly turned her head. The movement was erratic. With every millimeter turned, it seemed like there was a pull to the other side, a pull that he countered by forcing to turn his gaze even more. At times his head was a blur. Slowly, the profile of his face was revealed while he approached to face Emmy.

Her eyes stung from being opened too long but that didn’t stop her from the only thing she could do, but without meaning to. Her eyes were the size of plates as she gazed on the man’s face, or the lack of it.

The man in a suit had no eyes or brows, no nose, and no mouth. There were no lines, or contours on his face. It was all skin. Sickeningly pale skin. The figure gestured in the air and the end of Gina’s entrails flew into his raised hand, holding on to it as he approached menacingly, head tilted to the side.

At the bed, the woman whose face was now completely dark, cackled as she tugged on Gina’s entrails with one hand, and hacked the neck with the other. Emmy heard every revolting squish and crack as her daughter’s head continued to loll at an increasingly unnatural angle. A slight din rang in the air as the knife finally severed Gina’s head and hacked through the bed, hitting the springs.

Emmy’s breathing came in shorter and shorter gasps while sweat poured out of every pore in her body in torrents. The shade in the suit leaned forward, bringing his hand close to her face. The nauseating smell of raw, disgusting meat assaulted her senses. The woman behind the shade leered and cackled while repeatedly tossing Gina’s disembodied head in the air.

Her paralyzed face was drenched. Tears and sweat mixed. And blood. The man in the suit rubbed her daughter’s entrails on her face while tilting his head from side to side. She held her breath successfully, but the duration only made her inhale deeply once she could not hold it anymore. Her stomach ejected more, sending vomit dribbling out her mouth and racing down her neck.

The woman with the darkened face approached, still tossing Gina’s head in the air. Lights began to flicker as she neared. The shade pulled on the intestine. A low popping sound came as it came free from Gina’s stomach. He held it high above Emmy’s head and emptied the contents onto her. The lights flickered faster.

Once the woman with the darkened face was side to side with the man in the suit, she held Gina’s severed head aloft for Emmy to see. Then, in a swift motion, began hacking at the face with the knife. Emmy’s thoughts flew in different directions, unable to absorb any more of the gruesome sight before her.

Pieces of flesh flew off in different directions as the woman hacked with abandon, never taking her face away from Emmy. The flickering lights matched the furious pace of the woman’s movement. So did Gina’s eyes.

Emmy would have gasped aloud if she could. Although the eyes, glazed over, were rolled back in their sockets, they blinked as rapidly as the knife scored the skin. One side of the head was almost completely flayed, muscle and bone in full display. As the nose came off in one clean swipe, Emmy noticed something even more horrific. Gina’s mutilated, disembodied head was trying to speak.

More than half of the top lip was missing, only a quarter of the lower lip remained. The twitching wasn’t random. It repeated in a pattern. Guttural sounds soon came out as the light’s flickering reached a crescendo.

“Leave. He’s too strong.” Gina’s severed head kept repeating until its jaw fell off.

Then, seconds of darkness. It felt like days to Emmy. When the lights came back, she found herself back on her chair. The book flew into the air as she bolted upright. All of her senses were strained to the limits as she surveyed the room at a dizzying pace. Gina was staring at her.

“Mom, I’m cold.”