Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 3 Abandoned Mall Horror Stories

Episode Date: January 31, 2022

🎧 Check out The SCP Experience podcast here: https://spoti.fi/3zCFjQc 🎉 Ad-free episodes + bonus episodes: https://www.patreon.com/drnosleep 🎥 YouTube: https://youtube.com/c/DrNoSleep �� Send all advertising inquiries to: [e-mail] Author: Matt Doggett Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/MatthewDoggettAuthor/ Website/Newsletter sign up: matthewdoggettauthor.com DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #drnosleep #scarystories #horrorstories #doctornosleep #truescarystories #horrorpodcast #horror Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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The conditions apply. Talk to nicely. Story one, blood and meat. Brandon's skateboard stopped suddenly, sending him flying forward to roll on the asphalt. I knew without looking that he'd hit a small rock with one of his wheels. Anyone who's ever spent time on a skateboard knows how that feels. Brandon cursed and got to his feet, inspecting the patch of road rash on his arm. His board, which was knocked backward from his fall.

backward from his fall, had started to roll down the gently sloping parking lot, so I skated over and snatched it up. Thanks, Brandon said, taking his board from me. Yep, I said. I pushed off and managed a smooth kickflip in the shadow of the abandoned ball. It was early afternoon on a Saturday. Brandon and I had only been at it for about an hour, but I could already sense that my friend was getting bored. He didn't have the passion for skating that I did. It was just something to kill time for him. I practiced another couple of tricks in the parking lot. This brings sunshine and my exertions, causing me to break a light sweat. I glanced over at Brandon, who seemed to be transfixed by the old mall. I knew the look on his face. We'd been friends since we

were ten. After seven years, you get to know your friends pretty well. What do you think? I said, skating up to him. Freddy, my friend, he said, taking up what I thought of as his salesman voice. I think it's about time we preambulate the interior of this old mall. Preambulate, I asked. Where do you learn these words? It means walk around, he said. And I read books.

How else do you learn new words? I shrugged, kicking my skateboard up into my hand, and standing next to brand. following his gaze. Are you with me, young adventurer? Or are you unduly apprehensive? He asked. Screw it, I said.

I've always wondered what it looks like in there. You got a way in? Where there's a will? There's a way, Brandon said, sounding like my dad. We didn't end up needing much of a will to get in. At the second set of doors we checked, we found one with a broken lock.

With minimal effort, we slipped inside the cool darkness of the mall. We walked on the dirty linoleum, our footsteps echoing back at us. Most of the stores on either side of us still had their metal gates down, but some of these gates had been broken, and the insides of the stockless stores had been ransacked. Graffiti marred the walls, broken shelves, beer cans, and fast food trash covered the floors of these violated stores.

Ew, check that out. Brandon said as we passed what used to be a shoe store. There was a twin mattress inside, stained with fluids I didn't even want to think about. We might come across some homeless people in here, I said, noting the evidence. Nah, Brandon said. They're usually out getting food at shelters or panhandling for change during this time of day. If we came back through tonight, though, I shuddered at the thought of coming into this mall at night. As it was, there was barely enough sunlight streaming in through various skylights for us to see.

Had we been on the first floor, we would have needed our phones to see. We continued on, talking and joking, and picking up the odd piece of wood or metal to throw around, just because. We came to a pair of frozen escalators, and Brandon suggested we check out the first floor. All right, I said as seriously as I could. But how are we going to get down there? The escalators aren't working. What?

Brandon said. They're stairs now. A broken escalator is stairs. I couldn't hold it any longer. I busted out laughing. Brandon did the same. You got me. He said, starting down the escalator.

When we were near the bottom, a scrawny and dirty dog came shooting out from underneath the escalator, apparently scared by our presence. Wait! Brandon yelled and ran after the dog. I like dogs. Come back here. I laughed as he chased the dog down a dark wing of the mall, hollering as he went. I lost them both in the darkness just before I heard the dog yelp,

followed almost immediately by Brandon screaming. His voice was cut off mid-scream, sending a chill at my spine. Brandon? Called into the darkness. You all right? What happened? No answer. I pulled my phone out. and turned on the flashlight, shining it down the dark wing.

I saw nothing but the same kind of disarray we'd already passed on the second floor. No dog, no Brandon. But I thought I saw his skateboard lying on the floor. It was too far away to tell for sure. I crept into the darkness, holding my phone in my left hand and my skateboard in my right. ready to swing it should anyone come out of the darkness toward me. Brandon, come on, man. I called.

This isn't funny. Just come out. I'm serious. No answer. What I thought was Brandon's skateboard was really just part of a metal bench that had been turned on its back. Something moved in the darkness ahead, a wet, sliding sound that was just loud enough for me to hear. I swung my light toward the sound and saw what looked like a dark crowsy. crack in the floor. Some kind of liquid glistened around the large crack as if it had seeped

out from the crevasse. There were also a couple of small, dark piles around the crack. They looked like old clothes, but it was hard to tell from the distance. There were two thick wires hanging down from a dark hole in the ceiling. I started thinking that a pipe had burst, damaging the ceiling, and also causing the floor to crack. There wasn't any water dripping now, but that didn't mean anything. I approached the crack in the floor, shining the light down on it. It was bigger than it had looked from afar.

Brandon could have easily fallen through it if he hadn't seen it. I stepped into the strange liquid on the ground around the crack. It was thick, like slime and slippery, but I was more concerned about Brandon. I stepped carefully up to the crack and positioned my light so I could see down. I saw a dirt floor some ten feet down. but I didn't see Brandon lying down there, or the dog.

Brandon, you down there? I called. A muffled whimper sounded from above me, and I immediately whipped my light up, shining it into the dark hole in the ceiling. Brandon's wide eyes reflected the light. He was stuck to the ceiling somehow, only it wasn't really the ceiling. I didn't know what it was.

He was surrounded by slowly pulsating mounds of gelatinous flesh. His mouth was wrapped with something rope-like that was nearly translucent around the edges, but a dark red in the middle. I moved the light, seeing that more of these rope-like things were wrapped around his body, pinning him to the ceiling. They're living, some faraway part of me realized. Brandon's eyes closed as I watched in horror, unable to process what I was seeing. I realized he was pale, too pale.

and I realized why a second later. The dark red middle of these things wrapped around him suddenly cleared out, like the last of a drink getting sucked up a clear straw. Whatever the thing was, it was drinking him. Another whimpering noise sounded, and I moved my light over, seeing the dog up there, wrapped with those things, getting the life sucked out of it. What I had originally thought was a wire hanging from the ceiling moved, jerking towards me. I flinched, trying to get away, and slipped on the slime under my feet as the tentacle snapped

out to where my head had just been. My skateboard clattered to the ground as I fell. I hit the ground hard, only to see the other thick tentacle swinging toward me. I didn't think. I just moved, rolling to my right and falling through the crack in the floor. I landed on the side, my left arm under me, which broke with searing pain. The impact sent my phone skidding along the dirty floor. coming to rest with the bright light pointing straight up.

I fought for my breath, thinking I was going to suffocate, before finally gulping in a lung full of air. I cried out, the insanity of my situation and the pain in my arm threatening to overwhelm me. Finally, I gathered myself and crawled over to get my phone. I lifted it and shone it around the cave-like area I'd fallen into. Everywhere I looked, there were wires hanging down from the ceiling. they weren't wires. They were tentacles. There were dark piles of clothing sitting under some of these

tentacles. Their existence told me I wasn't the first person to end up down here, underneath the abandoned mall. Whatever those creatures were, they had no need for clothing. They only wanted blood and meat. I saw Brandon's board off to my right, which he must have dropped down the hole when that thing snagged him. I stayed where I was, well away from the hanging tentacles. I looked down at my phone screen, thinking I'd call my dad. The screen was a jumble of colors. It had been smashed in the fall. I messed with it for a minute, seeing if I could pull up anyone's number. Nothing worked. Rage and helplessness boiled over, and I screamed out for help. Help!

No one answered. There was no one around. But a tentacle came down from the crack in the ceiling. The crack I'd fallen through. It stretched itself out as if offering help. A way to climb out of here. I knew if I touched it, that would be the end. Could I escape?

Could I somehow get free once I was up in the mall again? I didn't know. But I didn't have much of a choice either. Story 2. Things best left in the dark. What the hell have you got me into? I yell over the insistent whine of the revving engine and the piercing chaos of the police siren.

Turn here, turn here! The man in the front seat shouts. I only know him as Jerry, but I doubt that's his real name. I tap the brakes and swing the wheel clockwise, then hit the gas, as soon as the squealing back tires regain traction. The flashing red and blue lights behind us fade back in the rearview

mirror as the squad car spins out while trying to make the turn. Woo! Jerry shouts, looking back over his shoulder. I look at the guy in the back seat, only a kid really, and see the wide, worried look on his face. He's never done anything like this before, and if he has, he's certainly not made for it. Where the hell are we going, Jerry? I ask, seeing that he's directed me to the old abandoned South Ridge Mall.

Just keep going, dude. Jerry says, I'll tell you when to turn. I don't let up on the gas pedal. We haven't lost the cops. I know that. I just pray Jerry has a plan, but I'm starting to feel like something is wrong.

I'm long past regret. I should have never taken this job. I broke my cardinal rule. Don't drive for anyone I don't know well. How you doing back there, boy? Jerry says to the kid. He told us his name is Mark, but I hope he has the same.

sense to not use his real name. I certainly didn't give him mine. We're going to jail, Mark says. Look, they're getting back on us. Sure enough, I see the bright strobing lights of the squad car come around the soft curve. We're on the big, oblong road that surrounds them all, and we could probably drive around it in circles like a racetrack if it were just us and the one cop car, especially at this time of night. But that's not how cops work. In fact, I'm surprised that backup hasn't shown up yet. It's only a matter of time. We're not going to jail,

Jerry says with all the confidence in the world, what are you up to? I think, but don't say. The job was supposed to be straightforward. We were supposed to hit a trap house, stealing from dope dealers, a victimless crime, all part of the game.

But before we were even near the house, the cops were on us. And there was no way we were pulling over, not with all the hardware in the car. So I booked it, and Jerry started giving me directions. Turn here, toward the old Sears, Jerry says. I do it, and we're speeding directly at the mall. Ram the doors, Jerry says.

What? I say. You're kidding, right? Jerry picks up the stubby black revolver he's been holding in his hand since the chase began. He doesn't point it at me, not directly, but his gesture makes the threat clear. Just do it, he says. You guys better buckle up, I say as we close the distance. There's a wheelchair ramp just in front of the doors,

allowing just enough room for the late model sedan I'm driving to fit without having to jump the curb. I break as we slam into the glass and metal doors of the Sears Mall entrance. Sounds of wrenching metal and breaking glass momentarily drown out the fast approaching siren behind us. We end up breaking through both the outer and inner sets of doors. The sedan comes to rest in the dark and empty, store that formerly held everything from beds and clothes to hand tools and lawnmowers.

We hit hard enough for the airbags to deploy, but I came out of the crash only slightly dazed. It's not my first crash. And if I lived through this night, it won't be my last. The last second braking wasn't an accident. Let's move, Jerry says, opening his door. You good, Mark? I say, turning back. Mark nods. We're out of the car and following. throwing Jerry into the mall when the squad car slams to a stop outside the entrance. I hear the doors open and two men cursing as they look at the wreckage. The sedan is essentially blocking entrance to the store. The cops are going to have to pick their way through the twisted metal to get inside.

Maybe Jerry does know what he's doing. As we go deeper into the abandoned Sears, I pull out my phone and shake it to turn on my flashlight. Turn that off, Baxter, Jerry says, using the name I gave him. I can't see shit, I say. Just follow my footsteps, he says. I know where I'm going. Besides, your eyes will adjust soon. I grumble, but turn the light off and focus my attention on the sound of Jerry's footsteps ahead of me.

Bark is behind me, following close, breathing fast. I sensed the area around me open up and assume we're out of the Sears store and into the rest of the two-story abandoned mall. It's been years since this mall was open, but I'd been in it many times. before it closed. I try to picture the layout in my head as we move. What the hell are we doing here? Mark asks, with a shaky voice. Light flashes and an echoing bang comes from our right. Someone shooting at us. We all duck as another gunshot sounds. A beam of light cuts through the darkness as a flashlight comes on. The light plays over a now dry fountain next to the dormant elevator some 15 yards ahead of us. The ambient

light shows me an escalator off to my left. I grab Mark by the arm and drag him under the dull silver metal of the silent escalator, giving us some cover. Jerry is already under it, peeking his head out the other side. Oh, Ethan! The man with the flashlight calls out in a sing-song voice, you're gonna die. Shit, Jerry whispers, they're smart for cops. They came around to another entrance. What the fuck is going on? I say to Jerry. whose real name I'm starting to think is Ethan. Chill man, Jerry says. It's all good.

The questing light sighs through the darkness and lands on the escalator. Jerry pulls his head back in quickly. Let's get Mark out of here, I say. Let him go home. Nah, Jerry says. Not until we're done. Done with what? There are probably more cops out there right now, getting into position.

We're screwed. At least we can get him out of here. These guys aren't calling backup. Jerry says, They're dirtier than this mall floor, man. They're just some crooked cops looking for a payday. Payday? We don't have any money.

We didn't even do the job. Before Jerry can answer, there's a scuffing noise from behind us, and another beam of light stabs the darkness, lighting all three of us up under the escalator. Run! Jerry says and takes off. I hesitate, moving to put my hands up when the cop behind the flashlight fires.

If he'd been aiming at me, I'd be dead. But he was trying to hit Jerry. Still, it's enough for me. I grab Mark and we take off running after Jerry as more bullets pierced the surrounding darkness. Both flashlights bounce to the darkness after us as the cops run, firing blindly every few steps. Ahead of me, I can hear Jerry making strange sounds with his mouth.

It's like a foreign language, but with clicks and other noises. Almost as if he's trying to coax a horse out of its own. stable. I'm still gripping Mark's arm when he falls down behind me. Get up! I yell, stopping to help him. I'm shot. He says, his voice high with disbelief. They shot me. The lights are still bouncing toward us, so I grab Mark under the armpits and drag him over to the side until my back hits the wall. I haven't been able to see anything since the cop shined the light in my face, and my own light would give us away. So this is the best I can do. I sit down next to Mark and wait for the cops to find us, and, in all likelihood, kill us.

Jerry is nowhere to be seen, and the strange sounds he was making have stopped. I'm guessing he's gone, leaving us behind as a diversion while he escapes. I raise my hands above my head as the beams of light get closer, sweeping the area. One of them stops when it falls on Mark and I. Declan, we got one, the voice behind the flashlight says with immense satisfaction, I realize he's talking about Mark's gunshot wound. Jerry's right. These are dirty cops.

The second beam of light adjusts as their other cop joins his partner. They're close enough now that I can see their chubby, mustache-laden faces from the back splash of light. Their badges seem to glisten. Their bellies bulge over their heavy-looking belts. I look over at Mark, who slumped against the wall, gripping his bloody side. Where'd Ethan go?

The cop, Declan asks. I shrug. He ditched them, the other cop says. If we go now, we can still find him. Declan nods. Right, you are, partner. Then he turns to me. You should have kept running.

Left this little bunk behind. Now you're dead, motherfucker. He raises his gun. Something shifts behind him in the dark. A blur of shiny blackness sweeps down and hits Declan in his outstretched hand. His gun clatters to the gun cladders to the gun. ground, still gripped by his severed hand. He screams and drops his flashlight, bringing his left hand up to grip the nub as it spurts

blood like this mall's fountain once spurted water. The other cop swings his flashlight up, tracking the beam with his gun. The light lands on a four-legged creature standing above him, a good 12 feet tall. Its lower legs are made out of a shiny black material that reminds me of obsidian. They end in points, which clack on the tile floor as the thing moves. Its upper legs come up to a central singular body that's also black, but covered in stubby hair instead of the smooth armor on the thing's legs. The body is about five feet in diameter, and is circled with blinking yellow eyes. Under the eyes, at the bottom of its body,

there's a circular mouth that opens as I watch. Two mandibles, a good three feet long dart out of the maw, as if tasting the air. The uninjured cop screams and fires once at the monster before one of those legs comes up and swats at the guy, slicing his head off. The headless cop stands there like a statue as his head rolls around on the floor, eyes blinking and mouth open in a silent scream. After a long moment, his headless body falls forward and slams to the floor. Declan sits down on the hard floor, a mere foot away from his partner's head. He reaches out for his gun on the floor, but I jump up and kick the gun and hand away. way. He looks up at me with hate in his eyes. I want to know why you killed my dad, Jerry says,

coming out of the darkness and walking under the creature that stands there, blinking its many eyes. All for some money? To make sure all the other businesses in the area paid you for protection? Or was it just because you wanted to? Declan turns to Jerry as he comes around. The cop, if you could call him that, looks increasingly pale. His wrist is still bleeding badly, even though he's gripping at it as tight as he can with his other hand. What the fuck is that thing? Declan whispers, looking past Jerry or Ethan, whatever his name is. How the hell should I know?

Jerry says. All I know is that we look out for each other. I bring it food and it doesn't hurt me. But it can only eat raw chicken and beef for so long. Once in a while, it's got to have something a little more substantial. Jerry stands over Declan for a long moment, waiting for the cop to say something. When he doesn't, he steps back and sighs. You don't know how to feel remorse, do you?

He asks the cop. You don't even care that you killed a smart, strong, law-abiding man, do you? It doesn't matter to you. Nothing matters but your own miserable life. Declan smiles up at Jerry as he seems to remember something. He reaches down toward his left ankle for the pistol strapped above his chest. boot, but before he's even close to getting it out, Jerry signals to the monster. It lifts one black leg up and slams it down on Declan's back, impaling the man.

The sickening sound of breaking bones and bursting skin echoing off the walls. It lifts a squirming Declan up to its mouth. The two mandibles come out and grab the man, who screams as he's folded in half to fit into its mouth. His screaming stops as he disappears into the creature's mall amid a wet, crunching sound. Jerry walks over to me, let's get Mark out of here, he says. I don't say anything. I can't believe what I've just seen. I just tend to Mark. He's in shock, but I think it's more from what he's just witnessed than his gunshot wound, which is minor. I think he'll be okay when we get him to the hospital. As we get Mark situated between him

We need us. Jerry turns back to the creature, which is now munching on the other cop. I'll be back in a few days, he says to it, then make some of those strange sounds with his mouth again. Be good. I want to ask him about it, but I decide not do. It's best not to know about these things. It's best to leave these dark things in the dark, where they belong. Story 3. Finishing the Job The darkness races in on me as Tommy and Bryce slam the boarded-up door shut.

As the late afternoon sunlight disappears, the black seems to push the air from around me, making breathing hard. I bang on the door, whimpering, pleading with them to let me out. I hate the whining tone in my voice. I hate that I'm too weak to stand up for myself. I hate that I've let these guys push me around since day one freshman year, Going on a year and a half now. I hate them.

I hate Tommy and Bryce, and I especially hate Tatum. But I hate myself more than all of them put together. I hear them laugh outside, making fun of my whiny tone. Then their slapping footsteps fade out as they run away. The only unlocked door is on the other side. Bryce had said,

gaffoing like a horse in his stupid way as he shoved me inside the derelict and long abandoned bomb. I kicked at the wood panel in the door weekly, sobbing and blubbering as my ineffectual kicks barely make a sound against the sturdy wood. Get it together, you pussy, a voice in my head says, a voice that sounds exactly like my dad, what I wouldn't give for my phone right now. But, of course, that was the first thing they took away from me when they ambushed me as I walked home past the crappy mall that closed when I was still a baby. I turn around to face the dark, dark abyss of the mall, wiping the tears from my cheeks and the snot from my upper lip.

My eyes are adjusting, which gives me a little confidence. I can see the shape of the inner doors. No one bothered putting wood on them, even though the glass has been broken out of them, just like the outer doors behind me. Past the doors, I can see dull shapes on the floor, small things, trash, probably. I stepped forward, my dad's angry voice egging me. on. Thinking about the unlocked door on the other side of the mall, I stepped through the inner doors, my feet crunching on a few errant pieces of broken glass. I can see a little better now, but I still can't see the walls on either side of the wide mall hallway. At least I don't think I can. It's just darkness to my left and right. I try not to think about what could be surrounding me

right now. What heinous, bloodthirsty creatures could be salivating at the smell of the smell. of my flesh. I force myself to walk, looking down both to watch out for sharp objects and to keep my focus anywhere but on the darkness surrounding me. I need to find the unlocked door on the other side of the mall. A thought occurs to me. A wonderful, magical, unbelievable thought, a memory, really. I swing off my backpack, which has two textbooks and three notebooks inside and open up the main pocket. I shove my hand down past the books, rummaging around, searching for the shape I hope is there. It was over two months ago now when I went on a camping trip with my friend Chris and his dad. I'd used my school backpack to bring my own supplies,

including a little pocket knife with a four-inch blade. I remember getting home from the trip when all was said and done. I was putting away the camping stuff and putting my school stuff back in. But I paused when I saw the knife. I decided to leave it in the backpack, a serious violation of school policy. I'd had silly fantasies about using the pocket knife to scare off Tatum, Tommy, and Bryce. But eventually, I'd forgotten all about it. My hand touches the cold metal of the folding knife, and I suck in a triumphant breath. I yank it out of my backpack and pry it open, holding it in front of me and jabbing it in the air with a smile on my face. Ah, come at me now, monsters. You're such a fucking loser, my dad's voice says in my head.

My smile falters, but I still feel better for having the knife. I close it and put it in my pocket while I put my backpack on. Then I take the knife back out and unsheathe the blade again, holding it as I continue my walk through the mall. Soon enough, I sense a big space in front of me. I've come to the center of them all, where the ceiling is tall, and there are escalators and an elevator. There's a little sunlight coming through a half-covered skylight way above me.

I look up to see that they've covered the skylights with boards, too. But one of them has been partially torn up or broken, which is where the light is coming from. I'd heard stories about kids in here with BB guns, shooting up at the old windows. According to one story, an unlucky and pretty dumb kid stood right under the one he was shooting at. When it broke, a big chunk of glass came right down and chopped his head off. Kids say he haunts the mall to this day. Probably not true, but it's the absolute last thing I want to be thinking about right now. I moved through the central area, thankful for the bit of light.

I have the knife down by my leg, ready for action. if anything comes at me. As I step into the darkness past the central area, I see people ahead of me in the dark. I freeze, looking at them, waiting for them to move toward me. There must be five or six of them. It's hard to tell. They look like they're bald, for the most part,

but a few of them have hair. Hello? I call out. Wincing as my whiny voice comes back to me off the walls, they're too tall to be my teenage tormentors. They don't move a muscle. They're all just standing there in the dark. I want to bolt, to run the other way, but some deep part of me tells me to keep going.

I step forward, my eyes readjusting again, and see that they're mannequins. Moving forward, little by little, I squint into the darkness with my knife out in front of me. The entire hallway is filled with posed mannequins. Some of them are naked. Others have old clothes and wigs on them. A few are headless, and others have Halloween masks on their heads.

You're kidding me, I say, knowing that this is the way I'm supposed to go. I can imagine Tommy, Bryce, and Tatum laughing their stupid, evil laughs as they set up the mannequins knowing that they'd shoved me or some other wimpy kid into the mall and scare me half to death. Thinking about this, and about all the other terrible things those kids have done to me in the last year and a half causes a flood of anger to rush through me. Fuck you guys! I shout, vibrating with rage. I grip the knife tight in my hand as I move forward with a purpose.

I knocked down the first mannequins I come to, reveling and how easy it is, wishing it were so easy to knock down real people, real bullies. I think I see one of the mannequins move up ahead of me. I freeze. The sudden silence deafening and compounding the fear I'd just,

just managed to push deep down inside. Pussy, my dad's voice says. This inner voice snaps me out of it, and I move forward again, dismissing the movement as a product of my imagination. I knock down more of the mannequins as I moved past them. A shorter one wearing baggy, ratty clothes looms out of the darkness to my left. I put a hand out to push it when its arms move,

hands grabbing me and twisting my arm. I scream and swing the knife at the front. figure, driving it through the ratty clothing twice before the thing lets go of me and falls to the ground. A voice shouts from behind me, a familiar one, and an arm snakes around my neck from the darkness. I'm still shaking, still vibrating. The fear in me has all but taken over. I know what's happening, even as I jabbed a knife awkwardly into the figure behind me. I know, but I don't stop. When Tatum screams and releases me, there's no more question about what I've done. But, for some reason,

I still turn around and plunge the knife into his chest three more times, feeling the warm blood splash my hands as it spurts out of his wounds. A light comes on, creating long shadows of those mannequins still standing. I look over at the light, squinting. You stab them! Bryce says in a voice that is the same whiny tone mine does when I'm scared. The light shakes as he starts to cry. I can see Tommy lying on the ground,

wearing an old wig and tattered clothing. He clutches a wound in his neck with one hand and another in his upper chest with the other. Tatum is lying on my other side in a pool of blood. His eyes are wide and there's blood coming out of his mouth. I look back up at Bryce. His face, backlit by the light from his phone's flashlight, contorts with fear.

He turns around and runs. I run after him, feeling more alive than ever before. I feel powerful, but most of all, I don't feel scared. I know it's wrong. I know these guys don't deserve this. No matter how much I hate them, no matter how miserable they've made my life, they don't deserve this. But that doesn't change things. And if there's one thing my dad did teach me, through the belt and the switch and the fist,

it's that you need to finish the job you start. I may not have started this one on purpose, but I'll finish it. won't be able to catch him, you coward, my dad's voice says in my head. I decide, as I close in on Bryce, that I'll head home after this to deal with dear old dad. If anyone has it coming, it's M.