MeganMiQ:Saw
From Create Your Own Story
This is it. The moment of truth. You cross the garage to the tool wall and, with shaky hands, slip the hand saw off the rack and wrap your fingers around the handle. It feels heavy. Heavier than it should. Anticipation courses through your veins. Each tooth, razor sharp and made to cut, to sever, to separate, gleams when you turn it over in your hand.
Behind you, you can hear Vanessa humming to herself again as she measures and marks a few boards in front of her. She's so animated. So vibrant. So alive. It almost seems like a crime against all of humanity to snuff such a bright light.
"Em? The saw?" She calls out to you, reminding you that you're here for a reason. You sputter out a "Yeah" in response and start towards her.
She resumes her humming as she double checks her measurements, her right hand stretched back toward you, waiting for the saw. You grip the handle as tight as you possibly can, your knuckles going white around the stained hardwood handle. Once you reach her, you grab and wrap her golden hair in your fist and yank back to better expose her neck, startling her.
"Meg? What are you-?" she begins to ask, only to be cut off when you press the teeth of the saw into the left side of her throat and yank it across and to the right, turning her into a grotesque human fountain as her escaping blood sprays from her in sync with the beat of her heart. Her hands instinctively fly up to her neck in an attempt to stop the blood loss as she drops onto her back, spurting a fair amount of her blood onto your pants legs before you step back and watch her writhe.
As you watch, her eyes cycle between being clenched shut in pain to opening and looking at the ceiling, at the walls, the garage floor, her bloodied hands, at anything and everything. She continues to choke on the blood that makes its way into both her esophagus and trachea, causing the occasional splash of blood to get coughed out between desperate gurgles. She kicks a nearby board away, causing it to spin and hit the garage door. She almost tries to stand up at one point, probably to try to get outside or to a phone for help, but only manages to stumble and fall at your feet again, her eyes staring up into yours as the light within them starts to fade, her frenzied thrashing finally slowing as she reaches a bloodied hand up to weakly grasp your pants leg, a look of confusion, betrayal, and horror being the last thing she expresses with her eyes before she finally slips into the darkness. A few last spritzes of blood weakly make their way up to punctuate the abrupt finale to Vanessa's life, and you smile.
You're free. Nothing stands in your way, which means that all that's left is to get home. You almost trip over yourself, lost in an adrenaline high, as you drop the saw, hurry out the garage door, passing through the kitchen, into the hall, and out the front door.
