Siren’s Cry [A LITRPG Adventure]-Interlude: Blood on The Walls
A/N:
And here it is folks, the long awaited Siris Lore Chapter(™)! For real though, content warnings for this chapter: Blood, gore, trauma, sorta-cannibalism, and disturbing imagery. Viewer discretion is HEAVILY advised, as this chapter is 18+ in an entirely different way from the rest of the story.
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Seven Years Earlier, Earth:
I sigh, double checking my phone for the hundredth time on my way to her house. There's still no message from Arianna, despite my numerous attempts to text her.
Me: Ey, coming over bb
Me: Where r u?
Me: Hello?
Me: Respond pls
Me: Srsly reply now
Me: HELLO???
Shaking my head, I finally give up and just shut off my phone. Pausing, I check both ways before rushing across the street, ignoring the frustrated beeping of the cars at the stoplight. Traffic was just another part of living in a city, and no one would care that I jaywalked.
I'm rapidly disabused of that notion as sirens flare up behind me and a cop car appears from a random alleyway nearby. Cursing under my breath, I stop and wait for them to pull up next to me. The tinted windows roll down ever-so-slowly, and the officer sticks his head out of the window.
“ ‘Scuse me ma'am, but you do realize that you just jaywalked right in front of me and my partner here, right?” Putting on my best dumb teenager smile while internally screaming, I make a show of looking back at the traffic light, which is understandably now green with cars zipping past.
“I did? I'm so sorry officer, I thought the thing said I could walk!” He shakes his head, mumbling something about stupid teenagers always doing stupid shit.
“Well ma'am, seeing as no one was hurt and frankly I have better things to do today, I'm going to just let you off with a warning this time. Next time, make sure the light says you can walk.” Sending a silent thanks to whatever god happened to be watching over me right then and a silent ‘fuck you’ to the officer, I give him a brilliant smile and nod along.
“Understood officer! I'll be more careful next time!” I say, waving at him until he and his partner drive off and return to the alleyway to ruin someone else's day. Flipping a quick middle finger at the back of their car, I start jogging down the sidewalk as my phone buzzes. Checking it shows that Arianna finally responded to my texts - I quickly unlock my phone and read the text.
Ari <3: Hey. Come over quick, got a surprise for you.
It was a fairly normal text, but something about it struck me as just… off. For one, who the hell uses proper punctuation when texting? Ari sure doesn't normally, so why is she now? Secondly, Ari knows that I hate surprises, especially after the whole birthday fiasco where I punched Aaron when he jumped out to surprise me. Me being a 5’9 girl that works out almost every day did not do any favors for his nose. And last and most damning: there wasn't a single emoji or emoticon. Scrolling up to her last message confirmed the stark difference between the two.
Ari <3: Ey bb :))) wanna go 2 movie this weeknd?? I pay <3
Yeah no, something isn't right here. Did one of her friends take her phone?
Me: Who is this? Ari doesn't talk like that
Silence for several long seconds, the three little dots bouncing ominously below my message before the person responds.
Ari <3: Frnd took phone lol :( Do have sm for u tho <<33
That only made me even more concerned. First a super weird text that isn't like her at all, then a text that's obviously trying to imitate her and only mostly succeeding? Something is very, very wrong here. But if it is someone with her phone, why would they be telling me to go to her house?
Me: kk will be there in a few min <3
I don't want to tip them off that their little ruse failed, but I also don't want to jump to any conclusions here. It's more than likely just one of her friends deciding to fuck with me for whatever reason. Or it's Kevin.
Might just be Kevin, the prick.
Satisfied with the thought that it's probably just the asshole of the friend group, Kevin, trying to prank me for reasons beyond my understanding, I resume my jog to my girlfriend's house. Humming a random song as I turn the corner onto her street, I instantly feel that something is wrong again. There isn't a single person on the sidewalk, which in the city is a nigh-impossible thing to happen no matter the time or date. Slowing to a walk and double checking that I'm on the right street, I slowly approach the door to her apartment building. It's a shabby brick box that's identical to the dozens next to it, and a quick look up shows that her curtains are drawn. Which is… not right. Ari never closes her curtains, she claims it makes her room too gloomy.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach the third floor in record time and quickly make my way over to apartment 17. Knocking, I get no response from inside despite her claims of being here. Or rather, the person with her phone's claims of being here. Using the spare key she gave me months ago, I unlock the front door and step into the pitch black apartment. Scrambling for the light switch, I flick the lights on to a scene of generalized chaos. All the furniture in the main room has been tossed around and torn up; the couch is on its side, the pair of plush armchairs have the cushions torn off and thrown away, the TV is screen down on the floor, and more.
This time I don't hesitate. I fly through my phone's menus, and within moments the police are on the line and en-route.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” I call out, slowly pulling my taser from its spot in my back pocket. A loud thud comes from the bedroom, and I whip around to face that door. Slowly creeping closer, heart pounding with fear, it's only then that I notice the dark stain slowly spreading from beneath the door. I stop, frozen by the sight of blood seeping from my girlfriend's bedroom, and almost run out of the apartment then and there. A muffled scream coming from inside jolts me back to the present before it's quickly silenced by a wet tearing noise.
I kick open the door, all caution thrown to the wind at the sound, but instantly regret opening the door. There on the bed, staring at the door with glassy, blank eyes, is Arianna.
My girlfriend. Dead.
Once-white sheets now stained forever crimson, blood dripping into a snaking stream across the floor towards the door. Dozens of cuts and bite marks cover her bound and naked corpse, skin hanging in strips and tatters around her torn out throat. Weeping gashes and skinless muscle are visible, never in places that would cause her to bleed out but just enough to cause debilitating pain. And standing over her with blood on his mouth and a kitchen knife in his hand, is a man that I've never seen before in my life. He looks perfectly average; brown hair, brown eyes, average height, average weight. However, the psychotic smile and murderous glint in his eye breaks any illusion of normality before it can even form.
He slowly leans down and licks the blood dripping from the corpse's mouth, still smiling and never saying a word. He pulls a familiar purple phone from behind his back, a severed finger clutched in the same hand as he deliberately turns it off before turning back to me. I'm frozen in fear, pain and anger warring as my chest tightens and my vision tunnels onto the still-warm corpse of my girlfriend.
To this day, I can never quite remember what happened next. I know he lunged at me, laughing like a fucking lunatic, and I fired my taser, but everything past that is a blur of pain and blood. A knife flashes, my taser crackles, and somehow I'm the one with the knife now. Blood spills over my hands, from my hands, pulsing organs dropping into my grip as the light leaves those manic eyes.
My next clear memory is of the police arriving and finding me, bleeding from several shallow cuts atop the disemboweled corpse of the murderer. They quickly escort me to a waiting ambulance, and I watch with numb disbelief as they bring both corpses out on a pair of stretchers, covered by black body bags. I… didn't go to the funeral later that month.
The police called my parents and told them about what happened, and I went into therapy for the next several years. The man was later identified as Andrius Caldwell, a wanted serial killer that had been killing and torturing couples for months prior. The only consistent thing between each death was bite marks on the bodies, extreme mutilation, and texts imitating one of the pair to lure the other in. So in short, it was senseless violence and sheer bad luck that had me and Arianna targeted that day.
I've always wondered; if I had been a few minutes earlier, if I hadn't been stopped by the fucking cops, if I hadn't hesitated when I saw the blood, maybe Arianna would still be alive. Maybe she wouldn't have ended up chewed on by a sick fucking serial killer. Maybe I wouldn't be as numb to everything as I am. Maybe maybe maybe
maybemaybemaybe
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Interlude: Blood on The Walls
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