The Scourges 8 The Night Of The Beheaded

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09:55pm "Samson, you are a very lucky man. The little girl you a.s.saulted and her friend changed their minds. They decided not to press charges against their Teacher. To think that a beast like you would be out there makes me want to vomit, but rest a.s.sured, we'll be keeping an eye on you at all times. Either way, you're free."

Not too surprised that Vivian recanted, but speechless that the young devil has made the choice to leave him in peace, at least this time, Mr. Samson, looks in amazement at the policeman who unjustly arrested him. Thinking of Billy, who will need him as soon as he gets home, he comes to his senses and doesn't waste any more time to head for the exit of his cell. However, before leaving, he asks this question which, following the old man's story, he had not dared to ask him but which has been burning his lips ever since.

"Sir, death was a very beautiful brunette girl."

"No young man, she was a blonde splendor. An angel that no woman in our world will ever be able to match. A yellow-eyed woman who looked to be in her thirties. Tall, dressed in an ample red dress of tulle, when she laid eyes on me, I immediately knew that never again could my heart belong to any other woman but her. Look at me for a moment: years ago, my wife and two daughters died throwing themselves together in front of a freight train. Two months later, my apartment was a pile of ashes and then the army fired me for some ridiculous reason. My brother fell on the road and was. .h.i.t by a bus. My sister was poisoned with a household product. To make a long story short, since my encounter with death, I have been acc.u.mulating trouble and only alcohol gives me the strength to forget the pa.s.sing seconds. Yet you know, my only wish is to see her again. I want her to take me with her, but... Let's not talk about this anymore. Take care of yourself young man, for when you defy forces you cannot understand, they will never let you live in peace."

The words of that smelly old drunkard, are like a bomb in Mr. Samson's mind. Whether this woman is Anna or not, thinking of his son still at home and his wife depressed, he b.u.mps the racist policeman's shoulder and rushes out into the hallway.

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11h25pm

A beautiful woman wearing a s.e.xy black evening gown, runs as fast as she can. She sweats profusely, her breath is short but she does not slow down. Without stopping moving forward, she throws off the high heels that refine her silhouette and make her long legs, so much appreciated by men, stand out even more. She turns her head back briefly, but seeing the source of her fear still on her heels, she sinks deeper and deeper into the poorest part of Philadelphia.

This very famous plastic surgeon, living in a huge suburban lodge, never thought that one day she would set foot in this place where drug dealers and murderers live together. Coming out of the alley to join an even narrower one, the beautiful red-headed woman with pulpy, breathless lips, whose tears have long since carried away the mascara, struggles more and more to keep up this h.e.l.lish pace.

Exhausted, knowing that very soon her s.e.xy long legs will no longer have the strength to wear it, in a despair that takes with it her last physical resources, she screams for someone to come and help her. Her screams light up a few lamps and some windows of the surrounding buildings open, but not wishing for trouble with the gangs in the neighbourhood, the inhabitants draw their curtains.

She is desperate. So this is how human beings behave when one of them is in danger? Her hand resting against her aching ribs, her rhythm slows down. Preparing for the inevitable, she screams again, when suddenly a hand pulls her towards the entrance of a decrepit building.

"It's rare for fate to lead a beautiful, rich b.i.t.c.h into our neighborhood. But you know my beautiful, when that happens, we always treat her with the utmost courtesy. Not true, boys."

Faced with six pairs of eyes filled with l.u.s.t and being the target of laughter from these very young men whose purpose leaves no doubt as to their intentions, the beautiful woman wants to run away, but her wrist firmly held by a hand that contains a lot of strength, she feels powerless. Suddenly, as she remembers why her steps lead her to this filthy neighborhood, the fear of being s.e.xually abused by these young men seems secondary to her.

"Let me go. I beg you, let me go. You have no idea the danger you're take yourself in by keeping me a prisoner."

The response from the young man who appears to be the leader of the small group is not long in coming. He grasps the provocative cleavage of this mature beauty and with a sharp jab he tears it off. Her two beautiful medium sized white b.r.e.a.s.t.s that bounce, together with their beautiful little pink nipples, cause his s.e.x to harden even more. Unable to wait to enjoy such splendour, he ignores the woman's pleas and pinches one of her adorable little nipples.

His friends soon join the party. They are all convinced: Tonight, by tasting the body of this rich woman, they will make a feast. Their hands wander through the deliciously soft skin of the beautiful woman who bravely defends herself by slapping the leader.

"You little wh.o.r.e, I wanted to f.u.c.k you nicely, but I changed my mind. If you like violence so much, I'll deck your head in when I ravage your p.u.s.s.y."

"You little b.a.s.t.a.r.d motherf.u.c.ker, show yourself if you've got b.a.l.l.s."

With the intention of calming the b.i.t.c.h who dared to hit him, the group leader clenches his fist and prepares to punch her, when one of his own whose fingers are visiting the hot, wet v.a.g.i.n.a of their evening visitor utters a scream of rage.

"Don't you have better things to do than scream like a crazy?"

"You'd be smiling if some a.s.shole threw a big rock in your face."

The leader doesn't worry too much. He a.s.sumes it must be some jerk who came here to play the hero and save this beautiful Princess who's now his.

"Come closer, hero, so we can see what kind of jerk dares to come bothering us."

The six members of the group of young men watch the dimly lit alleyway in silence. In order not to hear the woman's complaints that disturb his concentration, the leader places his hand over her mouth, but despite this, everything is silent. Tired of wasting his time with a coward who only knows how to attack from afar, he frees the mouth of the beautiful woman so that he to be able to insert his tongue by force. His tongue avidly tasting that of this redheaded beauty, while when his index finger comes to rest on her c.l.i.toris, one of his friends, again disturbs his pleasure.

"Am I dreaming or are they kids?"

A few feet away from their position, slightly hidden by the darkness, small shapes that are difficult to discern become more and more clear. The group watches speechlessly as these fearless kids approach in no hurry. They seem to be everywhere. To their left, the small laugh of a teenage girl makes them turn their heads. On the right, what must be a boy whistles to get their attention. A stone that is thrown from the roof, bounces at the foot of one of them.

"I told you. Those monsters that killed my husband have been chasing me for 30 minutes and now you're their prey too."

(Shiii) A very brief whistle follows the words of the beautiful woman. One member of the group is thrown against the gla.s.s door of the building. He emits a short rattle, reaches out his hand toward his leader, but after blinking twice, he collapses heavily on the floor.

A few feet away, the mouth of a teenage girl who must be thirteen or fourteen years old, stretches mischievously sideways. The girl points her hand towards his back, catches an arrow in her quiver and arms the crossbow that helped her win the last interstate school championship.

When they discover the short arrow inserted in their friend's skull, the members of this small group of thugs who wanted to take possession of the beautiful woman's body are no longer so sure of themselves.

Not only has their friend just been executed, but they are coming out of the darkness. There are too many of them. Fifty, maybe more. They may only be between eleven and fifteen years old, but they all have various weapons in their hands. Each one of this kids wears a hunter's face on the verge to shoot his prey.

"Forget about the b.i.t.c.h, we're running out the left side, there's less of them."

[If she's really their prey, then we might as well give them the b.i.t.c.h that got us into this mess.] The leader, for whom carnal pleasure no longer matters, smashes the skull of a beautiful woman against the wall very violently. Determined not to offer his life to kids who have gone crazy, he doesn't wait for his friends to save himself.

The four thugs who are still alive follow in his footsteps. Still alive but no longer feeling her limbs, the beautiful woman with the sunken skull slides gently along the white wall, repainting it with her blood. The fugitives who are grappling with teenagers who burst out laughing every time their knives and hatchets pierce their bodies, are soon attacked from behind by the kids coming from their right.

With the thugs gone, a very young boy approaches the woman who seems to be begging for his help. He looks at her with curiosity but, not wanting to waste time practicing his art, he brings his long butcher's knife close to the beautiful woman's delicate neck.

The blood that spills on the ground and forms a large puddle under the young boy's feet is no problem. Cutting into the flesh is not so simple than it appears, as for the bone, although his father has taught him the basics of how to become a good butcher, the cervical vertebrae of the woman's are yet another obstacle he must overcome. When the head detaches from the body of the beautiful woman, he grabs it by the hair and carries it at his eye level.

"The cut is not very clean. The meat is in bad condition as for the bone, it is broken and no, properly severed. I have to train hard to become a butcher worthy of daddy."

…

Monday 20 March 1986 - 04h25am

Theresa always gets up before sunrise. A nurse in one of the city's hospitals, her schedule forbids her from those late mornings her friends love. Still a little asleep, when she opens the shutters of her apartment on the second floor of a building overlooking a small square, she doesn't expect the vision of horror she's confronted. Now perfectly awakened by the shock she has just suffered, she wants to scream but her throat as tetanized as her body, prevents her from emitting the slightest sound.

This small square decorated with a pretty fountain built at the beginning of this century, which she usually finds so restful, has become the scene of an unspeakable nightmare. Her pretty lawn strewn with over fifty human heads that she can no longer be seen, and the clear water of the fountain flowing gently replaced by the ripples of an abominable red colour, fill Theresa with dread. Too shocked to bear the morbid sight of her little corner of paradise that has become the antechamber of h.e.l.l, Theresa's eyes turn back on themselves and she loses consciousness.