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spicy-pears · 7 months

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𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖉 𝖒𝖆𝖓

warnings: forceful smut.breeding/impregnation.stalking.biting??(okay he may have tried to eat you). sexual vulgarity.over stimulation.branding.torture?

Pairing: Johnny slaughter x Female reader. [Sorry Leland lovers, maybe sometime this spooky season]

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 1-𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚. 2-𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑹𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔. 3-𝑬𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒆𝒔.[WIP].4-𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒍'𝒔 𝑭𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 [WIP].

Word count: 3k

[Thanks for stopping by! This is my very first smut post. So all likes and critique are truly appreciated❣️]

𝙹𝙾𝙷𝙽𝙽𝚈'𝚂 𝙿𝙾𝚅

"Good night! Or should I say good morning, Austin Texas! It's officially 12:00 am. August 29. We got some good news for you guys tonight-" the radio turned off abruptly with the rough turn of the dial, causing it to harshly click. The car became eerily silent, And time began to stand still. Johnnys gloved hand tightly gripped his steering wheel. head held down deep in thought, while his jaw began to clench. His tense body showed a man deep in battle with himself. His sharp inhales and deep rumbling exhales, reminiscent of a hungry animal or beast. His mind slowly being engulfed with a fuzzy, static, ringing sound. A sound that drowned everything else out, a sound that let him know he needed to hunt.

His dark eyes studied the blood-stained cloth, firmly held in his right hand. He tried his best to settle the unrest inside his mind and body. But finally gave into his loud flagrant desires. Bringing the cloth to his face, he took in the distinct scent of his new obsession. The hint of your natural sweetness, the lingering smell of your perfume, and the distinct copper signature of your blood. All of this together brought him into a high, causing his needy cock to harden and throb. his eyes grew endlessly dark with hunger. His breath now in the rhythm of a heated pant as he pulled away from the cloth.

After maria, he made sure to be careful. He didn't take you home right away, he wasn't going to lose another. He waited and played his cards right. By dating your hopeless friend, getting closer to you without notice. He managed to snag your beloved charm bracelet, a photo of your beautiful doe eyes and sweet smile, and now your blood. Unfortunately collecting and waiting was over. You were now in a perfect position for him. And he surely didn't give a damn about your loving fiancé. There you stood, in the dark. Your eyes dashing to see the source of each unexpected sound. While you held your bleeding hand waiting and waiting for your friends. They won't be back any time soon, he made sure of it.

AUGUST 29, 1988 TIME: 12:30 AM

The humid Texas air was slowly getting to you. You started to feel the time flying by. And with the passing moments, the texas night heat only grew stronger. Letting out an anxious huff, you battled with your better senses. You know you should sit still and wait for the girls to come back. But you felt uneasy, as the men coming into the bar had a open view of you. They gawked, whistled, and even took second and third glances while walking by. You began to feel like a rabbit in an open field. While Ignoring the male bar goers as best as you can. You noticed a figure standing 10 feet from you, gaining your full attention. It stood in the back alley of the bar, where the light didn't reach. You couldn't tell who it was or what they were doing, but after you stared for a little while longer. The figure titled its head mockingly. letting you know this wasn't delusion or Texas heat, this was reality.

You tried to swallow down the fear bubbling up, but your dry throat made it impossible. Your hand began to tremble lightly. You knew the hotel was a block and a half away,if you ran. You could try to page someone, but your pager was in friend's missing bag. As you quickly cycled through your mind, you felt hope wash over you. Your fiancé always gave you a switch blade for outings, which you thankfully kept this time. Frantically you began to search for it, feeling on its holster that wrapped around your thigh. Suddenly you heard it, "switch!", your knife being flicked open. Your eyes slowly looked up with dread,watching the figure waving at you with your knife in hand.

Then it all clicked, the only person close enough to take it, was johnny. Refusing to let him get you easy, you nodded at his shadowy figure. And without wasting a second you turned around and took off for the hotel. Last you saw of him; he took off stalking into the wooded area amongst the trees. While you decided to run down the clear sidewalk under the streetlights. You didn't scream, you didn't cry, you saved your energy for running. Your legs felt heavy, feet started to feel numb, and your chest ached from it pounding with each stride. You felt safe following the streetlights and sidewalk, until there were no more. Before you faced the wooded area of a park, an area with no trail, no railing, and no intention of life traversing. You knew by cutting through the park. The hotel would be closer for you to reach.

Hearing branches snap, dry leaves shuffle, and rustling bushes drawing near. you cared nothing for the concept of caution and ran into the wooded area.

If only you were more cautious.

Realizing pretty quickly the area you bravely ran into, turned into a downwards slope. You carefully tried slowly traversing down the slope sideways. Regardless of how careful you were, all footing was quickly lost. under the soft, muddy leaves, and dew-covered grass. With no control of your body, you began to slide down quickly into a full body tumble. Plunging down the slope, for what you felt was 8 feet from the ground. Your back finally collided hard with a tree at the bottom of the uneven slope. The forceful collision caused an audible coughing fit from the pain and exhaustion of your lungs.

"Tsk, what a damn shame... here I thought you were a tough one. I must admit you put up a good effort. None of the other girls ran as fast nor far as you did. Oh! I assure you!" Johnny would crouch down next to his prey and chuckled at your pain. While you laid there pathetically, he took out his harvesting blade. And with a quick snap of his wrist your dress came clean off. Leaving you bare to him and the low rolling night breeze. "You know, I thought your fiancé would have been somewhat smart. Being a cop and all...obviously not a good one. I was on your trail, during every little moment of your trip." His taunts continued. Quickly and clumsily, you tried to collect your tattered dress. Your effort proved to be of little use, with the shredded mess. "Hell, I think I know more about you than he does. Born in New Orleans green eyes like your mother, but sure do have your fathers' spirit." He got up following close as you writhed in pain. Pathetically crawling away from him, attempting to hide your naked frame from his gaze. He observed how weak you became, relying on all of strength left in your fingertips and arms. Johnny cruelly pressed his foot against your injured and bruised back. Stopping all pathetic attempts then and there.

While you laid there it became painfully clear, that you were dealing with a psychopath. A handsome face, scars excused as the marks of a hard-working farm hand. Staring you excused as shyness, every red flag you foolishly excused for your friend's happiness. Realizing what he was, you devised your survival plan. They say killers hate rejection.so you'll accept every kiss,every touch, even fall in love if needed be; you were going to live.

He suddenly took his foot off your back, his footsteps growing faint, yet petrifingly close. Snatching this opportune time, you continued to crawl away. He watched you from afar, with a assumed expression. Spending your time crawling to nowhere, johnny patiently bided his time. For the warm orange flame flickering under his eyes, was just picking up. So caught up in your hopeful efforts, and devising your plan. you missed the lingering trail of smoke. You carelessly disregarded every firey sign of inpending torture, and you were going to pay for it dearly.

"oh no? leaving already?" johnny's tone was filled with mocking empathy. No matter how hard you tried, your effort didn't get you far. With a few steps, Johhny was above you again. Once again his smothering foot met your back. leaning down, he purposely put his weight onto your weak back. "Boy, aren't you a sweet sight? I'd hate for you to run off one day, but if you do. let's make sure a kind soul can bring you back home.". His words were purposely vague, he could feel the confusion swirling and sinking heavy in your stomach. In his hand held a brass "J" branding iron, that your poor eyes didnt notice.

A harsh stinging slap to your ass, caused your body to jolt forward under Johhny's boot. your teeth gritted in pain, as it eased into a stressed exhale. only a second of peace was given to you, before your eyes widen with hot tears. Burning heat plunged into the flesh of your hip, seeping down to the bone. As the sensation raised up to your chest, your mouth opened to let out a shrill agonizing scream. before it could ring through the night air, Johnny's hand met your mouth. Quickly choking out your heart-rendering cries. Over stimulated with pain, your body begged for rest. He smirked as your body fell limp, your chest softly heaving with shock.

What have you done to earn this nightmare? you were raised as a church girl. Maybe you partied a bit too hard to be considered devout. But you were still a virgin, attended every sunday service, and treated everyone with love. How were you now prey to the, "bad man" Infront of you?. In your fog, you yearned to look into the eyes of the man towering before you. The night sky and lazy clouds swallowed all light, not a single star nor the moon was shining for you. Deep down without making out his face, you just knew johnny was grinning with hunger. "Hey there! "He suddenly come face to face with you. His hands firmly grasping your wrists. You saw his face clear as day now. The sadistic yet playful smile on his face, coupled with the gentle caressing of your cheek. Brought to you a uneasy sense of comfort.

"Don't cry sweetheart, ill try to make this quick." He closely observed your eyes, for any signs of opposition. you never seen a man nor animal, With such endlessly devoid eyes in your life. Johnny chuckled at your mindless deer in head lights expression. He brought his thumb to you bottom lip, feeling the delicate plush of it. Soft grazes became harsh once he grasped your chin, yanking your head up to his attention. His thumb no longer gently tracing, it now pressed hard against your lip in a rough pinch. Suddenly your haze lifted, you began to realize your position. Your head moving around, taking in your helpless environment.

Your frantic display of fear brought out a deep groan of pleasure out of johnny. The groan trailed off into a deep sadistic chuckle. That almost drowned out the soft bell like sounds of his unbuckling belt. A growl rumbled deep from his chest down to your stomach. He perched himself on your mid-section to stop any attempt of escape, encasing your small frame between his knees. With each squirm you caused his body to rock and grind against you. lighting would strike you down, if you said you didn't like his hard length throbbing against your skin. "Look, look at me!" He snapped at you. Your frightened efforts to not look at him, Slowly wore down his patience. His right hand which held your wrists together. Forced them above your head, he hadn't yet forgotten your wounded hand.

Maliciously his fingertips applied pressure on the fresh cut, the feeling made you swear his fingers were deep in your wound. which made your skin began to crawl with disgust. The Increasing pain caused you to cry out and arch back, in an attempt to get his weight off of you. He allowed you to arch your body, he reveled in how you moved for him. "Oh? Needy, aren't you? For a devout little church girl." He relished in teasing you, while his now bloodied fingertips traveled up your thigh. Finding purchase between your legs. Fingertips running up your thoroughly soaked panties, teasing your covered slit. Although his fingers were now coated in your sweet juice, He desired more from you. Suddenly, johnny's head become lost between your legs. He'd use is teeth to delicately pull your panties to the side, giving his fingertips free range to slowly push into your tight gummy entrance. He made sure to leave a intense fluttering sensation coursing up your spine. He leaned up to you, as you let out a soft moan. He parted his lips as yours did, letting out a pleased groan of his own. He took a moment to relish in your shameless state. Before grabbing the soaked lace mess and greedily ripping it off with little to no effort.

Your eyes widened as you tried to close your legs, hiding yourself as best as you could. "Oh sweetheart, don't tell me you don't want me to fuck you? With how wet you are?" His bare calloused hands gripped your thighs bruisingly tight, no longer caring what you do with your hands. Impatiently yanking your body down to meet his hips. His length throbbing against your pussy, as it radiated your heat covering his shaft with your slick. "I hate to tell you, but I have to fuck you now, since you begged and all" before you could even plea for him to stop or fight back. The air was taken out of your lungs, as you moaned out. Hot tears welled in your eyes. He pulled you down forcefully flush onto his cock, not caring you were unexperienced.

You watched his wild ravenous grin, as the strength of his hips made each thrust deeper and rougher than the last. He loved watching the tears roll from your eyes. Mesmerized by your moaning lips begging for his kiss. Johnny figured he'd give you this one kindness. Your soft moans would be choked out from you, as his large hand gripped your neck firmly. Bringing your needy lips to his, he gave you the passionate kiss you oh so desired. You found yourself running your fingers through his hair, which he hated. He began to smirk through the kiss and rewarded you with a keen vengeful bite to your bottom lip.

Your sweet blood, lingered on his tongue like liquor. Bringing him to a high, his thrusts grew needy and cruel. He lost himself, in the taste of you. Once he broke the kiss, you looked on at his shark like eyes in horror. Before you knew it, his hungry lips now wandered to your shoulder. A radiating source of your intoxicating perfume. Soft Fuzzy static began over take his mind, he knew what he wanted. And couldn't control his primal instincts. His body tensed, his muscles flexed and hardened, face buried deep into your neck hiding his internal struggle. He'd let out a animalistic grunt, a hopeless warning for you. A blood chilling scream rang from your weak throat. Johnny hungrily sunk teeth deep into your flesh. His mind now completely flooded with the roaring static. hearing your cries and french curses, faintly in the back of his mind.

"Fuuck!" johnny pulled himself out of his haze, his gaze darting to his left hand. Realizing he unknowingly took his knife out during the fog. Begrudgingly, he pushed his knife away from your body. Resisting the strong urge to kill you, atleast not yet. Instead he began to take in the sight of you. A broken mess, panting like a well fucked whore. He'd steady his position with his hand besides your head, now resting his weight on his arm. A frustrated whine echoed from your chest, demanding release. He felt your tight little pussy clench around him, your body ready to cum without his permission. His eyes glared deep into yours, his thrusts now mercilessly deep. greeting the very depths of you, abusing your cervix with his controlling strength. "You tight greedy whore-" He grunted, as you defiantly closed your thighs. Johnny smirked and decided not to go easy anymore. he pressed your thighs back against your chest. Thrusts bottoming out, as your core now ached against the girth of his length.

"J-...Johnny!" With the needy moan of his name. You finally broke, cumming on his thick punishing length. You began to tremble, as the wave rode through your body. You sweet inexperienced doll, you thought once you came it was over, not just yet. you began to stare down at the mess of your bodies, you watched as his cock stroked in and out of your gushing mess of a pussy. Mercilessly pumping out your cream, while your aching pussy wrapped around tight. carelessly you dared to drag your fingertips down his sweat covered torso, down to the base of his working cock. Luckily, he was too high off the feeling of his rushing edge, to punish your touch. His body pressed heavily on yours, he savored each sound your crying, messy body made. His body soon raised up again, his leaning head back getting a full view of you. Eyes sitting low, while his tounge wolfishly licked the dried blood off his smirking lips. You felt his fingertips digging deep into the plush of your ass. Which gave into his wake, bloody scratches and crescents from his nails adorning your ass.

"Take it! Take it!" His voice dripped with a carnal venom. His pace now sloppy against the twitch of his cock. Each twitch reminded him of how defiantly tight you were, not allowing him to stretch you even a centimeter more without a challenge. With a satisfied deep hiss, he claimed you. Filling your assaulted cunt with his hot thick seed. You panted with relief , Your body lightly trembled with each breath you took, until your nerves eased for him.

"Oh? sweet as a kitten now, aren't you?" he lazily pulled his satisfied cock out of you. He chuckled at your sweet face, before turning his attention to fixing himself up. Somewhere you found the strength to pull yourself up, weakly sitting on your tired knees. You began to admire the shape of his face, eyes tracing each scar, your chest fluttered at the mere presence of him. He didn't know what he was going to do with you, let alone a child. But that was the price to pay, he planned on selfishly keeping you as long as he could. His strong arms, carefully wrapped around your chest. Pulling you into his arms, practically cradling you like a feral kitten. "It's time to bring my prized catch home."

CHAPTER 1 END

Chapter 2 preview:

"Do you remember?"

Your eyes fluttered open, to the familiar melody. The upbeat romantic song that played during your wedding, bringing you a warm feeling of safety. The safety you cherished when you were finally found,finally free. But it was strange, your lazy eyes caught the time. 3:15 am, why would he play this so late?

"Do you remember how it all began?"

You remember your husband's disappointed confusion at his broken record player. Which now played eerily off key, deep and slow. Why would he play music on it now? Lazily your feet shuffled against the carpet. And unexpectedly met the soft rattle of your son's comfort blanket. Now Perplexed, you examined the small bat covered blanket. Abruptly, the flashing blue and white lights of your TV caught your full attention.

"I bet you remember, I bet you remember"

You felt the fear on your fingertips, as they glided against the wooden stair railing. Holding your breath, in a attempt to stop your heart from beating so violently. With each braved stair, your skin crawled with a stabbing chill that only increased. Untill you stopped half way, there he was. Your baby boy, being held by a shadowy stranger.

"Da-da!" The sweet babble from your baby boy, brought you so much dread. He could never piece his babbles into a clear "Pa-pa" or "Da-da", To your husband's dismay. But now sitting on the knee of a stranger, he joyfully rang out his new found word

The stranger leaned down, playfully shaking a teddy bear. While the baby sucked on his knuckles feeling truly entertained. Dark eyes slowly cut from him to you.

"Does mama remember me?" You knew that build, those eyes, and that damned intoxicating southern twang. With no more stairs to stall the inevitable, you now stood in Johnny's open veiw. You watched the corners of his mouth, curl into his signature devilish grin."Well, Hey there sweetheart!"

"Do you remember the time, when we first fell in love?"

#johnny slaughter x reader #johnny slaughter x oc #johnny slaughter #tcm johnny #texas chainsaw massacre #tcm game #tcm smut

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freddief4gb34r · 5 months

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How would Chop Top be as a father figure toward a teenage girl? Feel like he would kinda be a cool dad. Like maybe he found the girl after they killed her parents and he wanted to keep her because he kinda saw himself in her.

hmm this is actually a rlly good concept ty anon

« chop becoming a father figure to a teenage victim »

no pairings, entirely platonic (though mentioned sticks/peyton/chop), fluff, lowercase intended

it started when him and nubbins went to whack a couple who got a bit too close to drayton’s chili recipe

ask too many questions and you get slaughtered, easy job

but when they went in there and did their usual deed

you know, decapitating a couple and dragging their entrails all over the floor

they eventually come to find her.

they were entirely unaware that a child was present, somehow her ears managed to ignore the curdling screams of her parents.

maybe it was on purpose

who knows?

nubbins opts to just kill her, saying that her face would be pretty on bubba

but chop for some reason hesitates to agree

there’s something about that twinkle in her eye

it reminds him of someone

oh yea

him

there was something about her eyes and her jet black hair that reminded him far too much of himself

and why would he kill himself?

he just slapped her shoulder and looked at nubbins

“i-i think we can keep this one!”

“bu-but what about c-cook?”

“…”

“extra pair o’ hands.”

so they (stupidly) set off into the night with two corpses and a teenage girl who’s still in shock

by the time they’d reached what they called their home, the girl finally came out of it

she was obviously trembling and on the verge of tears

but chop would never let that stand!

he brought her to his room and played music, being dumb enough to leave her in there alone while he fought with drayton over it

by the time it ended and he went back, she did try to stab him with a bone

unfortunately, it stabbed his arm and he just kinda stared at it

“well that’s.. not good.”

got patched up and just decided it was fine??

he just went and info-dumped about music and the war and napalm

at least she got some insight onto why he was so.. him.

there was something comforting about how he rambled, it felt like.. home? oddly enough

eventually she learned to adapt and stay in this disgusting house

although she had some qualms about the food, a good broom whack to the head from drayton and a rough “sit down ‘n eat” was enough

she just kinda sucked it up and endured it

eventually she starts growing on this fucked up family

i mean, they came to find out that her house wasn’t very good either

hey, they may be cannibals but at least they dont hit you or something (well, 4/5 of em..)

drayton actually tries to keep his broom away because 1, shes just a teenage girl, 2, chop is kinda scary when he yells

she finds it quite nice when chop yells in her favor

when they actually start doing domestic things, chop is the funniest father

definitely loves embarrassing her in public

like if she tells him that theres someone cute he just dramatically turns around with a mortified face

his face was not the only thing mortified that day

he also for sure would tell her all about the war and how “good she has it” as a joke

he’d also say fake embarrassing memories about her to peyton and sticks while she’s there

and they have very funny back and forths due to chop’s 4th grader humor

“yo mama”

“my mom’s dead.”

“sucks to be you.”

“and whose fault is that?”

occasionally they end with “and who’s fault is that?”.. “mine😔..” and he walks away (squidward walking sound)

delightful little quips

he didn’t raise her to teen years, but damn she speaks fluent sawyer with all that shit-talk

they gossip in his truck about people she knew before they yoinked her off the grid

he also would be a very chill dad on the subject of weed/alcohol

he trusts her to be responsible with marijuana but he wants to be present for any alcohol consumption

kind of overprotective??

if a boy looked at her and his 3-second glance at him determined he wasn’t good enough

that random boy better pray he lives somewhere the neighbors can hear him scream for 911

he also definitely steals her posters, bags, perfume, anything he can steal off a victim and fit in his bag is for her

he likes when “uncle nubbins” makes her gifts

also i think another reason he’d be overprotective is because he can’t have kids of his own??

because like cmon guys

ik we all want bio dad chop but lets be real

he drinks gasoline, eats eyeballs, and has probably been through serious chemical damage from the war

and also he’s a cannibal who eats the pretty toxic parts of a human

so he is sterile

but it causes him to be very protective over who she’s with, where she is, when she’s coming home, the whole ordeal

but thankfully, “uncle drayton” makes sure she doesn’t leave too often

definitely keeps her busy

on a slightly more angsty subject i definitely think chop would have some guilt

with the whole

kidnapping and keeping of a child

and she becomes self-aware sometimes and realizes “damn this is fucked up”

but those are the moments where papa chop and his daughter kick back a beer or two and forget for the night

those are morning problems

and also like

another angsty thing is the whole subject of death

me n a friend (love you @pierrot-fish , sticks is their oc btw) discussed this, but chop kind of refuses to acknowledge the passing of his kin..?

like he just won’t really accept it

so in those back and forth quips about the “yo mama” joke

it was once held at the dinner table

just happened to come up

and she mentioned chop’s mother

her grandma, for all intensive purposes

that’s probably the first time chop lectured her, like genuinely and not some serious talk before getting high

he just looked her dead in the eye and told her to respect her grandma, because she’s alive and deserves her respect

the one thing he took from drayton was a strong sense of family and that unbreakable bond

except he’s a bit insane

anyway back to the fun

if she ever cut her hair he’d eventually make a wig out of it

also if she ever felt unsafe or came home crying he will brutally murder that person and preserve one of their disgusting body parts as gifts to her </3

as this is getting too long, i’m gonna end it here, but if you want more adventures of these two, lmk!

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cain-sawyer-son-of-the-saw · 2 months

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Little Cain Jedidiah Jr. Sawyer got to spend the day today at home with his mama, Rosette Sawyer. 🥰 It was so peaceful! But… they did miss Bubba Sawyer. Maybe they’ll find him at the next horror convention…?

#texas chainsaw massacre #bubba sawyer #slashers #leatherface #the texas chainsaw massacre #horror #oc #ocs #cain sawyer #rosette sawyer #tcm #70s horror #slasher movies #hoopers #tobe hooper

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melodrama-ticcc · 7 months

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— “ 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 ” ; 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐢𝐞

𝘈 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘢𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴.

𝙃𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙥𝙥𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙞𝙩.

𝘈 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 ��𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫. 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧. 𝙣𝙚𝙭𝙩 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧.

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ: ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃⁱⁿˢ ᵐᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ. ⁱ.ᵉ. ᵐᵉⁿᵗᵃˡ ⁱˡˡⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵐⁱˡᵈ ᵍᵒʳᵉ, ʳᵉˡⁱᵍⁱᵒⁿ, ˢᵉˣᵘᵃˡ ᵗʰᵉᵐᵉˢ.

—

The drive from the countryside of Skiatook, Oklahoma to Newt, Texas was a ten hour trip, spanning the pastoral plaines of Oklahoma to the hilled grasslands of midwestern Texas. A sight to behold, surely, but even a blind man would grow bored of staring at the same image if it meant he was looking death in the face.

The summer sun baked the peeling paint off that ol’ 56’ pickup. Heat radiating from the build of its classic body to the cabin, where the broken air conditioning did little to improve their conditions of travel. Even the windows — half rolled down (enough to flick strands of hair astray in varying directions, but keep the sharp feel of the hot wind out of the eyes), did close to nothing to alleviate their discomfort.

All of it had been enough to further sour her perturbed feelings regarding the move. Sat in the passengers seat, she stared at endless grass hills, a blank expression resting on her pretty features. The sun shines in through the window, and she does her best to hide beneath the little shade her hand provides. The sun meets its peak in the sky as it moves westward. To inevitably kiss where those hills met the horizon. In many ways, the beauty of it all was quite remarkable. Peaceful, one might say.

Yet, Rebecca Payne only felt the urgency to conclude she and her father’s travels and settle into that reposeful farmhouse she would come to call home.

Surrounded by fifteen acres of fenced grasslands, the old farmhouse sat just a half mile off the main road of the highway. Shrouded by overgrown foliage, a dirt road leads to a set of warped wooden stairs, then, a porch that wraps around the left side of the place. The eaves provide plenty of shade, and a torn screen door serves as the front entrance of the home. She was sure it must’ve been a grand estate some once upon a time. Now, it was just a rickety old house that needed lots of fixing. She supposed there was something beautiful in it though, for it had the potential to be something great once more.

As dusk approaches, Rebecca slams shut the truck door. Slinging a tote over her shoulder, she hurries up the front steps. Her second footstep is met with the sound of a loud crack, the regrettable indication of the wood snapping. Her weight propels the leg through the broken board, and it nearly sends her face first into the top stair before she catches herself on the railing.

“Shit!” She lifts her foot slightly, as if to assess damages before she realizes the extent in the fragility of the old place.

“Now, you best watch yer’ language young lady, watch it for’ I ain’t wanna tell you ‘gain.” His voice is deep and rumbles, like the thunder rolling in as a summer storm approaches. Her father shuts the truck bed, bags in hand as he makes his way towards the house’s edifice. “Movers’ll be here in the mornin’, we best get some rest. We can unload tomorrow.”

His warning is met with skepticism, as she scoffs and moves toward front door. The screen is kept open, seeing as it swings freely in the gentle breeze. However, the solid wood door behind it is locked, so she raises her hand up in a careless motion.

“Ya’ got keys, daddy?”

“Now hold on.” He steps up after her, rustling in his pocket for the key. She moves to the side as he sticks it in the lock, pausing for a moment as he looks to her. “I know it ain’t much, but it’s home, and you aughtta’ be grateful for what we got, ya’ hear me? A home is a home, you’s and me can fix ‘er up but in the meantime, s’long s’we gots a roof over our heads and supper on the table, we doin’ just fine.”

“Oh daddy,” she smiles, maybe for the first time that day, and it’s charming. A pretty little smile bound to tickle the hearts of any man who saw her. It was no wonder her father loved her so damn much. “You know I can make anythin’ work. Jus’ needs a lil’ woman’s touch. I’ll take care of the inside, you take care of the outside.” She plants a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll have ‘er lookin’ like home in no time.”

The two days that followed had consisted of the typical unpacking and arranging of furniture that followed a new move. Far from complete, boxes of varying sizes, empty and full, scattered about the oak floors of the interior. Contrary to her expectations, the inside of the home had been in much better shape than the exterior. Not perfect by any means, but considerably better. It was nice in some ways, to have such a spacious home with ornate architecture. That which matched the stye of most farmhouses built in the 1800s.

There’s a knock at the door as Rebecca hunches over a hot open stove. Rather half heartedly she calls out for her father, however when met with no response, she proceeds to pull the meatloaf out of the oven and places it onto the stove top. Tossing the oven mitts on the counter, she moves to approach the door. From where she stands, she can see three figures standing behind the screen.

The gentleman on the right is carrying something. He’s older, she thinks. Probably in his fifties. His dark hair is combed over the top of his head, yet it’s clear he’s balding to some extent. His dress slacks are pulled up past his waist, and his dress shirt has some sort of red name tag that she can’t make out. He’s rather short, too. The woman on the left, while fair for her age, seems to be an older, more mature lady. Her dark hair is done up in some neat updo, and she wears a purple dress with some floral accents. There’s eye glasses with dark frames on her face, and she looks less than pleasant. The last figure had been a taller young man situated behind both of them. He seems her age, his hair is slicked back in grease and a stern expression is written on his handsome features. His tight jeans and torn black tank top tell her everything she needs to know, he’s no good.

“Hi.” She peers beyond the screen, as if to examine them and ensure they were somewhat trustworthy. Her eyes scan each of them, a hand kept on the door handle. “Can I help you folks?”

“Forgive us for showin’ up unannounced like this, it ain’t too often we find ourselves gettin’ new neighbors is all.” The older man speaks, a friendly smile on his face. “We’s the Sawyers. Our farmhouse is settled just up the main road here a little ways. I’m Drayton, this is Nancy, and this here is Johnny.” He lifts what he’s holding and shakes it gently. It sounds heavy, its contents something greasy that stains the thin paper bag. “It ain’t much, but we brought some barbecue as a house warmin’ gift. Thought we’d welcome you’s to Newt.”

“Awfully kind of you folks,” Rebecca extends their gratitude, swinging open the screen with her booted foot. That charming smile of hers meets their every gaze. “Comin’ all this way to say hello. My names Rebeccca Payne, y’all can call me Becca.”

Johnny thinks she’s something like the movie stars he sees on the television or on the covers of his pornographic magazines. Big blonde hair falling in effortless curls and waves, swooped bangs framing a finely carved face. High cheekbones, full, pouty lips, a button nose, bright blue eyes. Her skin is kissed by the sun, freckles scatter across the highs of her face and body, beauty marks adorning several sections of her tanned skin. He smiles, and perhaps for a moment he imagines what it would be like to have her tied up in his shed. A part of him wants to keep her as a pet, the other wonders what it would be like to carve into her like a he did those college students. But it’s her smooth southern drawl that removes him from his immoral conceptions.

“You’ve caught me just as I’ve finished supper, care to join us? Daddy’ll be pleased to meet you folks. We ain’t know we had neighbors ‘round here.”

“Well, ain’t you sweet.” The woman, Nancy, speaks, a motherly tone in her voice as she offers a kind smile. Its her first time expressing anything but that mean veil she donned.

“But ‘uh, we ain’t wanna impose or nothin’ . . . .” It’s said more to front niceties as opposed to genuine concern. After all, they had come here with the intent of getting to know who was next door just a little better. Watching from afar could only give them so much.

“Nonsense, y’all come on inside ‘n I’ll fix y’all’s a place at the table. ‘S the least I can do, now come on in.”

There were two rules to abide by when invited for dinner by a southern woman. The first, always compliment her cooking. The second was never turn down the invitation.

“S’pose it wouldn’t hurt nothin’.” Drayton easily caves into her offer, sending a look back the other two’s way.

Rebecca had the sort of southern hospitality that was reminiscent of a belle. In a way, it’s old fashioned. But there’s something about her new age appearance and haphazard attitude that makes her seem carefree. Like a bronco in the wild, nobody could tame or give her instruction. She was an unbridled mustang.

She’s stepping aside to let them all in, shutting and locking the door behind them. She makes a point to shield the shotgun leant up against the door frame as they enter. Not before moving ahead of the group and leading them to the dining table.

“Go ‘head and have a seat where you like. Daddy’ll be in shortly.” Without clemency, she begins fixing the table to accommodate the three guests. Placing napkins and proper silverware at each place. Shouting out the open window she calls for her father, “daddy! Suppers’ on, we got company!” There’s a freshly baked cherry pie sitting on the window sill, steam still emitting from its crispy golden edges. The smells of savory meat and sweet cherries intertwine, she’s a woman who knows how to cook. And for that, she’d win the hearts of many.

As Rebecca shifts to place a porcelain plate at each seat of the table, she moves on to set out their meal. First the creamy mashed potatoes, then the salty gravy, bacon infused green beans, and one hell of a meatloaf. All centered down the runner of the table. The table is set, and as she removes the oven mitts and apron from her person there’s a faint slam at the back door. Her father steps in, wearing a days work and covered muck and dirt. The girl smiles, grabbing the iced pitcher of sweet tea and filling up five glasses at the table.

“Daddy, these are the Sawyers. This is Drayton, Nancy and Johnny Sawyer. They’s our neighbors, live just up the road this way.” She places the pitcher back on the counter, “I hope you folks are hungry, all this food don’t do much good with just my daddy and I ‘round. Momma always said a meal tasted better when it was shared with others.” She carefully hands out the homemade sweet tea poured in crystal glasses, condensation dripping down the sides of each glass as the cold beverage faces the Texan heat.

“Names’ Raymond Payne, pleasure to meet you folks.” He takes his seat at the head of the table, and as Rebecca places a glass of sweet tea at his hand she leans down, a loving hand on his shoulder as she kisses his cheek.

“Love you daddy.” She whispers into his cheek, then takes the seat to his right side. Across the table from Nancy and Johnny, besides Drayton. “God is good, God is great, let’s eat.”

“You’ll have to excuse the rest of our family, we’d of loved to bring ‘em along to say hello but they can be rather . . . . preoccupied with work.” Nancy smiles, not before Raymond nods in a feeble attempt to acknowledge her.

“I ain’t know we had neighbors ‘round these parts.” As he begins digging into the food set on the table, Raymond eyes Drayton. He’s a friendly man. His rough hands and calloused skin a showcase of his life’s work. He’s no stranger to a tough job, and it’s evident in his wise tone that he knows a thing or two about life. Though his friendliness need not be mistaken, for he’s skeptical. A life of hardship had led him to become wary of strangers. All the same, he couldn’t help but feel proud at his daughter’s benevolence and cunning hostess skills. “How long y’all been livin’ out here? Recommend it?”

For a few moments there is a profound silence at the table, as their guests begin to make their own plates, Rebecca waits patiently to be the last to serve herself. Yet the lack of answers leads her to smile awkwardly, as if hoping to stir up the conversation. But finally, the old man beside her speaks.

“Well, you ain’t got many more of us. S’far as I’m aware there ain’t many others makin’ a livin’ out here in Muerto County. We’re always happy to meet a new friendly face, it don’t happen too much.” Drayton raises his glass as he sips from it, before continuing to answer Raymond’s inquiry. “It’s a quiet lil’ town, ain’t much goes on ‘round here. You’ll find it can be quite peaceful. If you enjoy the quiet of the countryside I reckon you’ds find yourselves at home here.”

The thought picks at Drayton’s brain like a fly on dung, yet he watches himself so as to not seem too upfront. He eyes Nancy, then Johnny boy, then back to Rebecca and Raymond. They’d only made their way over to determine whether or not these new neighbors were a threat, something to harm the family business. He didn’t need some strangers waltzing in and causing trouble. He was certain they couldn’t kill them, but the girl would make a fine piece of meat. At the same time, he really had no desire to kill them. If they could, he’d much rather have it they lived their own separate lives in peace. Not to mention the suspicion that would arise if they were to eradicate the Payne’s so suddenly. They’d just moved in, and as the only neighbor to the old farmhouse they’d be prime suspects in a missing persons case. Their sudden disappearance would be most unwise.

“So, where you folks from, what brings yuh’ out these parts?” Drayton smiles, beginning to dig into the serving of meatloaf he’d cut for himself.

“Business.” Raymond replies dryly, between a mouth full of food. But he chuckles, nodding his head towards Drayton in an endearing matter. “We’re from Tulsa, Oklahoma. Needed to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Tulsa was once a farmin’ town, not before they gentrified it all. Had some property out there, some land. We ran the cattle business with our very own slaughterhouse. Bank offered me a deal for the land I just couldn’t pass up and uh, well. We’s just cattle farmers lookin’ for a quiet life on the countryside’s all. A fresh start.” He nods, “say uh, what’s the Sawyer’s do for business, hm? How y’all makin’ yer’ livin’? I’m assumin’ you’ves got some farmland in these parts?”

“I reckon you’s right. Got lots of it. Looks like we in the same line of work, my friend.” Drayton smiles, “we owns a slaughterhouse. It’s a meat packin’ business. Say, you’s ever need any help you just holler my way. I don’t mind it one bit.” He smiles. “Family’s been in the business for years, my old grand father built it from the ground up. Used to take the hammers to the heifer’s heads. We know a thing or two about prime meat.”

Raymond laughs, coughing a bit as he leans back in his seat. “Say, I like you mister Drayton Sawyer.” He wipes the sweat from his forehead with a napkin, takes a sip from his glass and looks about the table. “You’s a good man. I’m sure we’ll be in touch.” He nods.

The way he stares at her pisses her off. Like he can see through her mask of sanity and pick apart her every secret. He’s staring, that Johnny boy, dark, brooding eyes from across the table. She’s got half a mind not to call him out on it right then and there, but for her father’s sake she keeps her mouth shut. Even then, she’s returning the favor; a cool gaze from her side of the table. Brows cocked downward in a scowl.

“That boy of yours, he don’t talk much do he?” Raymond flags his hand towards Johnny, pulling his gaze from her.

Perhaps what angers her even more is the way he pretends as though he’s doing nothing out of the ordinary.

“Nah but he sure do gotta starin’ problem.”

“Young lady-.”

“Oh don’t let his politeness fool you, he’s a talker alright. Ain’t ya’, Johnny?” Drayton laughs. A charming smile graces Johnny’s features as he looks to Raymond. Now he’s rising from his seat to stand up and offer his hand in a hand shake. Becca makes a note of the scars that riddle his strong arms as she folds her arms over her chest. Her father stands to meet him, his own right arm locking in a firm handshake while his left arm holds Johnny’s wrist.

“Johnny, nice to meet you son.”

“Not used to strangers sir, you’ll have to forgive me. Nice to have some new neighbors ‘round here though, you ever need help ‘round the place gimme a call.” He glances to Rebecca, a distasteful countenance on her mien. She looks like someone shit in her cheerios. “Same goes to you too darlin’, need summin’, don’t hesitate to gimme a call.” She wants to slap the stupid smile of his pretty face, but instead scoffs aloud.

“I can handle myself, thank you.”

The remainder of dinner was much of the same small talk and pleasantries. Nancy tried to make conversation with Rebecca — going on about being a housewife and proper manners, most likely because of her blatant disregard for her son’s generosity. Drayton laughed along with Raymond, as Johnny talked him up with stories of hunting wild animals and growing up in a small town. Humorous tales of reckless behavior as children, setting smoke bombs off in the creek or fetching rattlesnakes with bare hands. All the while she felt disgraced by the young man’s suave behavior. His smooth, deep voice echoing in her ears. It was a euphoric sound, tingling her innermost desires in such a fulfilling way. But she hated it. She never did care much for those frivolous boys who flaunted their good looks and tight jeans to break the hearts of naive women. Women like her, who knew his type all too well. Thems hearts were never loyal to just one.

Throughout the evening’s festivities, he made a point to watch Rebecca as if to study her. Only when she called him out on the matter did he especially brush it off as some insignificant coincidence. He talks her up like she’s some prize to be won. Each of his advances met with a cold shoulder and quick exit. Further reinforcing the initial impression of his character. A good-for-nothing heartthrob with an ego he wants stroked.

Even with her hands buried into the warm dishwater of the sink, scrubbing away the remnants of a tasty home cooked meal from porcelain plates and the sticky sweetness left behind by the sweet tea in fancy glasses, she found herself resentful of a man she had only just met. The thought and buildup of it all weighs heavily on her mind. She faces the window, dusk settling with brilliant hues of yellow, orange and pink. Then the pie, that she’d left to cool off in the window sill. Her eyes flash quickly as she calls out to the others, interrupting their seemingly amusing conversation to offer up desert.

“I almost forgot, I’ve got a fresh cherry pie baked. You folks like sweets?” Rebecca calls out, putting the last dish to dry as she wraps her wet hands in the towel hanging off the side of the sink. “I’ll get us some dishes.” She extends a smile to the group, primarily her father, as she fishes out small plates from the cupboard and silverware from the drawer. Setting them out on the table, she fetches a cutting knife from the counter, placing it beside the plates. Then, she carefully retrieves the pie, placing it on the table for all to see.

“Knew I smelt summin’ sweet walkin’ down the road, here lil’ lady, lemme cut this for ya’-”

“I can cut my own damn pie.” The change in tone is stark. What was once a pleasant, primarily gracious hostess was now filled with unrelenting anger and frustration. Like flipping a light switch, something had ignited the spark within her. Becca’s eyes glare something wicked into him. Her own hands are shaking, and though she hears her father call out for her in a low, monotone warning. It does little to shake the feeling that her control over her perfect fairytale is fleeting. “Give it here.” She gestures towards the knife.

Johnny, partly wanting to instigate a further reaction out of her, and partly due to the stern look Raymond was giving her, withheld the utensil. He feigns innocence, playing the part of the concerned stranger with excellence and finesse. He cautiously looks to her, his brows raised in suspicion. He knew better than anyone, she was in fact losing her grip. He found it amusing too, the way she stared at him with wild eyes. Waiting for him to cave to her will as if she were a threat to him. He wondered how far he could push her over the edge.

“Now now lil’ lady, all’s I’m doing is offerin’ a favor, best calm down now.”

“I can do it myself.” She mumbles beneath her breath, pupils diminishing with the dark light that came with the sunset. As the sun draws downward, dark shadows are cast over her expression. Sweat drips down the crest of her forehead, then the side of her nose and over the cusp of her lip. She’s shaking something scary, not before she moves swiftly to grasp the knife away from Johnny from across the table, fed up with his not listening. Just as she thinks she has it, she begins to grasp her fingers. Not before he draws the blade back, in an attempt to shield it from her.

Crimson taints the silver blade of the knife, painting the stained wood of the table a pretty red and even splattering the once faultless cherry pie. It drips from a laceration on her palm as she grasps it tightly with her right hand. The liquid oozes between her fingers despite efforts to slow it down. It continues to dribble down the length of her arm and drip onto the table below. It’s a sharp pain, stinging like hell. She doesn’t display any signs of pain, though. Instead, she stares curiously at the liquid. In a deep state of shock. Cerulean eyes wide with fear. Her shaking has come to a stop, and instead she stands still in her place. All sounds of those around her are drowned in the loudness of her consciousness. She sees blood, as it stains her hands for eternity. Visions of her deceased mother, in a pool of her own blood flood her mind. Thick and rich scarlet, all over the ivory curtains and painted walls. When she looks upwards to those around the table, only then does she realize what she’s done. It’s as if the switch had turned off and she realized she’s lost control of her temper.

They all stare at her with a dazed expression, confusion laced in their features, that with utter shock. Her father watches her cautiously, the feeling of disappointment clear in the way he calls out to her, reaching for her arm as he rises from his seat. But that which sticks out to her the most, was the look that bastard Johnny boy gave her. As opposed to rising with the others, he puts the knife on the table and finds his seat. Arms folded over his chest in a proud display. Those same dark eyes stare right through her, as if she were transparent. His features contorted in a wise smirk. One that indicates he knows something, or like he’s accomplished some great ordeal. She swears she can hear him chuckle, his husky voice at the forefront of her mind. He’s proud, she thinks. Because he knows something.

“Sorry y’all, now, where was we?”

As though nothing had ever happened at all, she picks the knife off of the table to cut a slice of pie. The sticky red of the cherry syrup pulls as she lifts it from the tin to place on a plate. A macabre display of delicious baked goods, blood falls down the side of the pie from the pool that sits atop it. It’s all over the treat, the slice, the table, the knife, still oozing from her wounded hand. She sits back down, plate in hand, before taking a chunk out of the tip of the slice with a fork to place in her mouth. A smile befalls her lips as she chews, it’s a warm aroma of sugary fruit and metallic. Perhaps the blood adds a little something. But it’s as though she’s trying to feign innocence, like there hadn’t been a some unfortunate incident. Like it was all normal.

She wasn’t crazy by any means, perhaps just a bit of a control freak. Her desire to provide the perfect image at the hand of her sacrifice of sanctity.

“Pie, anyone?”

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