Getting Some Head by "Splatter" Joe Solmo

                The screaming stopped so abruptly that it took a few seconds for it to register in Brian’s mind. Was Cindy still ok? The silence was more horrifying to him than the screaming. Poor, poor Cindy. He closed his eyes tight, not just from the thought of his longtime girlfriend, but also due to the plastic zip tie digging into his wrist behind his back.

                How long had he been down here, in the dark damp concrete room? There was a time where he had passed out, after getting knocked in the head, or at least that’s what he assumed happened. One minute Cindy was in the back of his pick up looking up at the stars and the next she was gone. Just gone. Dragged from the bed of his truck into the darkness without warning. She didn’t even have time to scream.  The next thing he knew everything went black for Brian.

                When he awoke, he was here, with his hands being bound behind his back. He couldn’t get a good look at his captor. He was wearing a head lamp and blinded him. He tried to struggle but his head was still fuzzy. By the time he was coherent enough to do anything he was bound and his captor was walking away through a door.

                That’s when the screaming began. Brian’s heart raced at the sound of Cindy. It was an almost inhuman sound, but Brian remembered her voice, her tone. He struggled then to get free but he couldn’t. It seemed like a lifetime the screaming carried on, all the while he tried to break the small plastic strip holding his hands.

                Now the screaming had stopped. That chilled him to the bone. Was Cindy still alive? What were they doing to her? It made him furious knowing that his girlfriend was in danger and he was helpless to save her. He was filled with a loathing for himself. Defeatism rose in his blood to replace the anger and urgency of the moment. It was too late for Cindy, and whatever fate she suffered he was next.

                Suddenly the rusted metal door swung open, and in the doorway stood his captor. He was a large man, with unkempt shoulder length black hair. He was holding something in his hand, but Brian couldn’t make it out with the shadows cast around the room. With his free hand the captor reached up to his face and turned on that headlamp, sending pain shooting into Brian’s eyes.

                He tried to pay attention, but his eyes wouldn’t open. He heard the man come closer. One step at a time. The man scuffed his feet as he approached, scraping the dirt and grime that littered the floor. Funny how that stuck out to Brian. He was surely going to die and all he was concerned about was his killer scuffing his feet?

                The man stopped about a foot from Brian, looking down at him casting his light into Brian’s face. How Brian wished he had his hands free, not to attack Cindy’s killer, but to shade his eyes from the light. A small part of his brain spoke to him at that point. Maybe Cindy wasn’t dead. He had no proof after all.

                His captor dropped to one knee in front of him, dirty greasy hair fell over the light for only a second, just long enough for Brian to see his face. Older, weathered, scarred, and covered in…blood? Oh God! Was that Cindy’s blood? It couldn’t be?

                How much blood can a person lose and still be ok? He tried to think, but he couldn’t focus. That despair was as debilitating as the bonds that held him here, prey for this man. He loosed his muscles and gave up, hanging his head down.

                His captor snickered, and with a sticky hand lifted his face towards him. “Have you no fight left in you, how disappointing,” he said in a deep gravelly voice.

                Brian keep his eyes down, away from the light. “Where is Cindy?” he managed to ask.

                “Cindy? So that was her name?” the captor replied and giggled.

                “What do you mean was? What did you do to my girlfriend?” Brian yelled out.

                “Nothing, she is resting,” he replied.

                “Bullshit,” Brian spurted out, then noticed his eyes could focus a little more. He could see the work pants the man wore. Dickies, he thought, brown with dark stains. Oil? No wait, that’s blood. Brian flinched and closed his eyes tight for a moment. That’s Cindy’s blood he thought. When he opened his eyes they followed the man’s arm down his side, also with black stains. Then his eyes focused on what the man had in his hand.

                Oh God No! He though as he saw the man’s large sausage fingers wrapped around a tuft of blond hair. His eyes followed the trail of follicles until it stopped. Cindy’s soulless eyes stared up at him, her face locked in fear.

                His captor began to laugh. “Now we have a touching reunion,” he said standing and tossing the severed head of Brian’s high school sweetheart into his lap. “Maybe you’ll get a little head, eh?”

                Tears streaked from Brian’s eyes and dripped onto the face of his dead girlfriend. A tear fell into her eye, gazing back up at him and his brain couldn’t fathom why she didn’t blink. Then the bottom of his stomach fell out and he began to retch.

                “Give me that!” the man said grabbing Cindy’s head. “You’re gonna ruin it! This here is a prime piece.”

                Brian threw up all over his own lap, retching bile from his stomach. How long has it been since I ate, he thought and started to laugh at the absurdity? It doesn’t matter, he was going to die. He had no doubts about that now. “Kill me,” he muttered between spasms of vomit.

                “It’s no fun if you want it,” his captor replied then kicked him in the ribs. “But your girlfriend isn’t getting any fresher.”

                Brian tried to sit back up but couldn’t muster the strength. His own vomit had spilled from his lap and now pooled right in front of his own nose. He struggled to move back away from it.

                His captor pulled a long knife from a sheath on his belt and knelt down in front of Brian. His long hair laying in the vomit. “It’s over for you, mate,” he said and raised the blade. The metal shining in the headlamps glow. He placed the tip under Brian’s chin. “It’s time to say goodbye,”

                “Do it,” Brian spat out as his captor pulled him to a sitting position.

                “Not the easy way,” the killer replied and pulled the knife away from Brian’s face. Before Brian could comprehend what was happening his felt a sudden pain as the man drove the tip of that blade into his left eye. 

                In his own head Brian heard things breaking and popping in there, the pain faded as his brain tried to make sense of the sudden trauma. A scream escaped from somewhere. He wondered if that was from his own mouth, he didn’t remember screaming, but who else could it be?

                The knife pulled out of his eye and after a few seconds Brian could finally open the other one and look upon his captor.               

               “You son of a bitch, end this!” Brian Yelled.

                With a laugh and a nod his captor rose the bloody blade back into view, this time with a straight jab ran the blade up into his nostril destroying the septum with a crunch. Blood spilled down the front of Brian, much like the vomit did, and the two bodily fluids mixed below.

                “Goodnight, I will take care of your girlfriend,” Brian’s captor said and drove the blade deeper with a straight thrust. Things grew dark for Brian and he slumped over no longer able to hold himself up. As he laid there on his side, the world growing dark, the last sight he beheld was his captor silhouetted in the open doorway, turned to the side, mock humping his girlfriend's severed head howling with laughter.


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