Читать книгу Mutilated. Crypt of the Seven Angels - Natalie Yacobson - Страница 10

Someone at home turned on TV. The cable channel again showed that the most terrible film, which already frightened it once. «Fear dot com» Blue-black shots flashed again before her eyes, as if funnel, sucking consciousness into an incomprehensible abyss. Frames combined something little clear with the image of some horrific torture and suffering. Claire was so afraid to see all this again, and here she saw. The crippled Jenny again crawled on the screen, blood flows from her mouth, and the feeling was like this, that’s, it breaks out of the TV directly to this room.

Claire caught her breath. Who could turn on TV and leave the movie to spin right on this terrible episode? Nobody came to her. Yes, and no one had spare keys. The house belonged only Claire. The girl is accustomed to be alone. She even had no pets. But someone has started the cable into the outlet and turned on the button on the remote control.

The stream of sadistic frames did not end. Perhaps the torture produced by medical instruments were especially frightened. After all, everything is afraid of operations, and surgeons. Or maybe everyone was Satanic in this, in how terribly the sacrifice itself turns into an obsessed evil of a predator.

Claire all this reminded of something. As if something, the same terrible happened to someone from the people close to her. In any case, the feeling was exactly the same. The events of the film although remotely, but touched some kind of looking history in her memory. Something like that was injured her for a long time. Probably, so she forgot everything.

Claire wanted to turn off the film before quickly flashing sadism and horror frames finally reduce her crazy. This will make you panicing anyone. It seemed that mutilated and, nevertheless, an incredibly predatory victim is still about to crash from the screen. But electricity suddenly turned off itself.

Claire with difficulty reached the bed. Claire still felt that the movie begins to drive her crazy. Black and white with an admixture of blue frames continued to spin in consciousness. Red on them was only blood. They spit, sucking consciousness into a bottomless well, full of torment, screams and abstract, but still frightening images. Torture! Blood! Pain! Screaming faces! Appears in convulsions, not the martyr, not that tormentor! Well and horror! Claire did not even understand where she had such a fear of torture. She was never tortured. Well, unless in the doctor’s office, when they took blood on the analysis or did x-ray. All medical procedures seemed to the Clair equally unpleasant and disgusting. And she could not tolerate doctors, as well as all those experiments they put on patients for scientific purposes. The maniac in films was just a doctor, and he spent the survivors of the operation. Anyone who has suffered in the office of blood delivery, such a plot will easily bring to the shock state.

In vain she looked all this. And of course, at all in time the TV turned on by itself to update unpleasant impressions. Probably, everything was explained by some crawling in electricity. Claire decided to be satisfied with this reflection, because it was the easiest, although not quite logical.

She was afraid to sleep now, and still she threw back her head on the pillow. Usually darkness soothes nerves, but not after such films. Terrible phrases from the film also flashed in consciousness. «Do you want to see it?» «Do you want to hurt me?» «Do you want to play with pain?».

And along with them, they suddenly had completely different, uttered by a hoarse male voice, and not seductive female, as in the film.

«Do you want, I will kill your enemies?» «Do you want, I will torment them so that even hell will be a paradise?» «Do you want, I will show you how you can do art on flesh with a knife, better than a brush on canvas?» «How can you not want to hurt others if they caused it to us: me and you?» «The enemies need to be destroyed, Cordelia, and having delivered them to maximum pain. How can I regret them if they did not regret us?»

Her eyelids fluttered in a dream. Again this name. Cordelia! She dreamed of her or she really heard it somewhere. Claire did not remember. She did not have acquaintances with the same name. But sometimes it seemed that someone calls her so.

Cordelia! Cordelia! Cordelia!

The name, as an elixir, healing the wounds on the body, but also a sharp knife, which led to suffering.

«Cordelia!» Claire whispered this name in a dream or just repeated for someone. Someone as if called her from the mirror, again and again repeating it.

She woke up in the middle of the night. Electricity, obviously, have already turned on, because the electronic clock on the table showed time. Ten minutes past three. Claire wanted to close her eyes again and suddenly realized that she was not alone in the bed. Near her was an angel. The most real angel. And he touched her. Touch resembled a love affection. Claire was not even alert, although the event was in general unusual. But for some reason it seemed that it should always be. He had to be here every night.

Angel in her bed. How beautiful he is. She probably was eager to stay for a long time alone only in order to see him. And it does not matter who he was: fruit of fantasy or incubus. In addition, the feeling of another body in bed was so clear. Here the face of sleep was erased, and a dark fairy tale began. His touches were magic. He reminded the creature from another century and still somehow knew about the terrible film, which she looked yesterday, and the images of which now was tormented her in nightmares.

His beautiful blue eyes spoke more than the words could say. Kisses burned. She ceased to be scary because of the film, but the feeling of some other fear enveloped as an ice water.

«Don’t be afraid of anything,» he whispered, «because I’m with you, and no one will make you evil.»

Claire looked at him with surprise. She already heard these words somewhere. She read more precisely. This is an inverted saying from the Gospel: «Speak and do not be afraid, for I’m with you, and no one will make you evil.»

«Yes, no one,» Claire agreed and focused her eyes. «No one except you.»

Why did she say it? He is so ideal. Only his hands. She did not notice these terrible burns before. And wounds. And wings. Claire screamed, realizing that she hugs something creepy.

She screamed for a long time. It seemed that the walls should shock these screams. But the creature did not disappear anywhere. It concerned the claws of her flesh, but did not wound. Touch were tangible. And they were gentle. Although how generally cutting items like sharp claws or knife blades can be gentle?

In the consciousness, as if some kind of door was opened. And the scraps of memory were blocked like frames from a creepy film. Table for torture. Chains. Blades. Wounds. Satanic laugh. And at the same time fragments of something gorgeous, almost gothic. Silk. Embroidery expensive fabrics. Fragrance roses. Blood on roses. Blood on gravestone statues. Blood on silk. Candles and books for witchcraft. The face of a beautiful young man in ancient coat.

Claire could not connect the fragments of the puzzle or find any logical connection in them. What did she see? A luxury ball or a witch ritual? Roses or graves under garden soil? A love caress or an inhuman torture?

In her mind, all the pictures mixed. Unlike fuzzy frames from the film, they were bright and colorful. They blinded her eyes, and Claire closed eyelids. When she dared to look into the darkness again, there was no longer anyone. Neither angel nor monster.

But where did he go? She felt him next to her. Wounds on her skin is not left only because he did not want to hurt her. But he could. Claire became scary from one thought. He could destroy her in one moment. So what prevented him? What game does he play with her?

If he exists, of course. Claire could think that this monster jumped straight from her work if something like that had ever drawn.

But it did not occur to her. Never!