Chapter 1:

Incident Report


I felt the cold drip of water splash onto my forehead. It woke me up, the rain, of all things. When I opened my eyes, I felt this... intense wave of pain. Everything hurt. My breasts hurt. My neck hurt. My thighs hurt. EVERYTHING hurt. But it still barely registered in my mind. The locations of the pain and their intensities compared to my everything else didn't fully register and set in. All I knew was that I was sore from head to toe. I tried to massage myself, an attempt to ease the pain, but when I went to move my hand, I noticed that I couldn't. Not very far at least. I was shackled to the wall behind me. My arms were forced above my head, my wrists chained to moldy stone. I sat in a cold puddle and my legs were kicked out in front of me. Despite the lack of light, I could see the tears in my leggings. Like claw marks that ran up my legs. The closer they got to me, the deeper and wider they became. I dared not to try and peak at the damage underneath my skirt, regardless of if my hands were bound or not. My eyes slowly adjusted to the light, as my brain did to the nightmare. Soon I could faintly bear witness to this... ungodly travesty. 

I wasn't really alone there, wherever I was. To my left and to my right were a series of bodies, all strung up like me. Their hands were shackled to the wall, and their bodies hung limp. But unlike me, they were no longer intact. Their guts, organs, and entrails spilt out all across the floor. Maggots writhe underneath their skin while rats feasted upon their flesh. They were mangled, torn apart, and missing pieces. Every man. Every woman. Every child. Oh god, the children. There were so many of them. The primary demographic was mostly adult women, all young and pretty, and then next were the men, but it would be dishonest to ignore the children. Missing clothes. Missing limbs.

I resisted the urge to vomit. I tried so hard, desperate to swallow. But I'm not strong enough. I'm too weak. I puked all over my lap. I shifted uncomfortably as I tried to collect myself. As I do, my senses start to come back to me. The pain I felt only grows stronger. My body was numb up until then, but I could still feel it. I was able to see and smell more clearly, not that I wanted to. The vile sight and stench of rot and decay overloaded my brain. I vomited again. Snot dripped from my nose like hot lava. I noticed my taste came back when the repugnant bile caused me to gag. But most importantly, my hearing came back. I heard owls, crickets, leaves. I was in the woods. I didn't hear any voices, any traffic, any construction, so I knew I was far from home. But I also heard something else... footsteps. The floorboards above me creaked. Dust fell with the rain and condensation. I could barely see it in the dark. I focused on them and tracked their movements. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each thunderous footstep moved slowly away from me. I used this as an opportunity.

I wriggled my wrists against the chains. They were loose, just barely enough for me to slip one hand through. I used it to help free the other. Before I knew it, I was free, however not entirely. I still needed to leave. I quickly stood up. The blood rushing to my head and the sudden use of my legs caused me to stumble. I caught myself on the wall. The footsteps approached the staircase in the center of the room. I pushed off the stone and moved forward. The steps started their descent. Stomp. Stomp. Thud. Thud. I grabbed the wood beams supporting the stairs. I crouched down, leaned to the side, and listened. Stomp. Thud. I waited behind the steps. I waited to see which way the feet moved. I heard them shift to the right. I moved to the left. They walked around the basement. I tried to match them. They stepped. I stepped. They stepped. I stepped. We were on each side of the staircase. My body started to tremble. I wanted to make a break for it. I wanted to sprint around the corner and make a mad dash up the stairs. I wanted to go home. But I waited. I listened. I kept low. I could hear them. Their breathing. Heavy. Straining. Each inhale sounded like a burden on the lungs. Why did they stop? It was dead silent. Even the animals outside had stopped their constant callings. Why? It was like they're scared of something. 

The silence was swiftly broken. The most gut retching scream filled the basement. A blood curdling cornucopia of pleas for a mercy that will never come. I heard the vilest sounds come from the other side of the staircase. Sopping wet sounds. Crunching sounds. Raspy sounds. I resisted the urge once more, but I puked on the ground. Someone was still alive. Unfortunately. I wish I saw them sooner. I wish I noticed them at all. I wish that I could've saved them. But I have to thank that poor soul for their sacrifice. If it wasn't for their cries, the sound of my vomit would've given me away. 

The person on the other side of the staircase began to speak. I don't even want to try and repeat what he said. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever heard leave a man's mouth. Although, as I'd soon find, it would be a lie to call him human. The things he did. The things he said. They made me sick to my core. I knew I had to get out of there as soon as possible. I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about logic, stealth, or strategies. I just wanted to be gone. I should've waited longer, gritted my teeth and took the assault on my ears. But I just ran. I rounded the corner and ran up the stairs. I ran and I ran, as fast as I could, as fast as my weakened body would let me. And I was so close. But as I reached the top of the steps, something grabbed my ankle. I tripped and stumbled, busting my chin on the top step. I could feel him looming over me. I could feel his presence. I slowly turned around and caught a good look at my captor.

It was horrifying. He was a very large man, incredibly tall. His body was almost completely skinned. Only small patches of pale flesh covered his body. His muscles were exposed. They bled old, dried blood. Pus oozed out from every crevice. I could see the maggots and flies wriggle underneath the surface. All sorts of bugs and insects crawled on and in him. His face was kept in a constant look of deranged glee. His eyes were stapled open, and his mouth was stitched into a permanent smile. The whites of his eyes and teeth were bloodshot and sickly, saturated a deep yellow and red. But that wasn't the worst part. That's what I could see beneath the true horror. Every inch of his body was covered in... parts. Animal parts, human parts, I couldn't fully tell at times, and I didn't want to be corrected. Bones, flesh, organs, sometimes whole limbs were just haphazardly attached to his body. Everything was crudely stapled and stitched to him. Skulls, femurs, ribs, shells, hearts and hides. He had claws attached to his own fingers and wrists, which dug into my leg. He had a large bear skull cover his whole head. He wore it like a hat or a mask. When his jaw would move, so would the bear's. Two deer antlers poked up through the top. They were clearly attached to him and not the skull, as the base of both went through two man-made holes. I think he also fashioned a tail for himself out of vertebrae. 

I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. Nothing escaped my mouth. No words no noises no breaths. He pulled me in closer, letting go of my leg and snatching my arm instead. In his other hand, he held some sort of contraption. Pieces of scrap welded together to form some sort of tool. It looked to be spring-loaded, or at least under a great deal of pressure. It was like a hole punch. He again yanked on me, and I had no choice but to comply. He began to ramble about some manifesto of his. On and on. Something about nature and society. He gestured to my painted nails, and said they were a sinful mark. He placed my index finger inside the tool. He squeezed the handle. The metal cylinder violently clamped down. Keratin shattered. Bits of broken nail flew out as the tool punctured straight through my finger. He jostled it around a little, letting the rusty metal wiggle and rotate inside my open wound. He smiled even harder, a light chuckled escaping him. Instead of releasing the tool, he tore open my finger to pull it out. Tears streamed down my face. I choked on my own pain and suffering. The tool opened back up. The remnants of my finger were discarded. And then he repositioned it back on another finger. He squeezed the handle. It clamped down again. Another nail broke. The metal cylinder drove straight through my finger. Blood poured onto the stairs. He ripped it out again. I coughed up vomit. And he did it again. Three times. I tortured me like this for three separate times. He forcefully removed my nails and the tips of my fingers. Three. Separate. Times.

At this point he continued to recite his manifesto, his reasonings for all of this. I didn't listen. I didn't care. I mustered up enough strength to crawl up the rest of the stairs. He didn't even notice. He was too distracted, gesturing to all of the bodies in his basement, his previous victims. Donators to the gene pool I think he called them. Through sex or harvest he got what he wanted.

I stormed into the kitchen. I sifted through the half butchered and half flayed animals to find a halfway decent rag to cover my hand, something just barely clean enough to not cause an immediate infection. I think it was then he realized I was gone. He screamed my name. How did he know my name? Petrified with fear, I looked to the basement door to see him charging at me like a wild animal. He ran on all fours. He demanded for his prized mate to come back. I sprinted out of the way. He was so reckless, he crashed into the counter, but it didn't slow him down. He just kept going. He kept chasing me. Pursuing me. I ran around the cabin. He followed my every move. He kept screaming for me. I through furniture and whatever else I had available at him. It didn't slow the beast down. Adrenaline pumped through my veins; I think it was the only thing keeping me going. I dove through a window and began sprinting through the forest. He did the same.

I don't even know how long I was running for. A few seconds, minutes? It felt like hours. Running through a seemingly never-ending forest. Eventually, he pounced onto me. He used that bear skull to bite into my shoulder. I cried and shrieked as he tore those large teeth out of my skin. Then he flipped me over. He pinned me against the ground. His claws dug into my wrists. At that point I prayed to God he would accidently slit them. Unfortunately, he didn't. I saw the look in his eyes. I saw the depravity. He wanted me. He opened his jaw and a string of tongues stapled to other tongues rolled out. He used his modifications to slowly lift up my skirt. I could barely see him then. The tears welled in my eyes made everything blurry. I don't know if I'm thankful for that or not. Having one of your senses stripped away isn't fun, but nobody should have to witness that. Fortunately for me, however, his ego and pride might've saved me. He continued to rattle on and on about his manifesto, his vision and dreams for the world. The fall of civilization. The return to primal urges. The dominance of man in the ever-perpetuating race of survival of the fittest. That's what this was all about. A power trip. A desire to make himself a dominating male as seen in the animal kingdom and taking only the best pieces from each individual to further his endeavors. And a desire to take me as his ideal mate. All just because of my name. Autumn. He wanted me because he thought of me as the perfect mother nature stand in. 

He was too distracted to have his way with me. His human nature took him away from the animalist instinct he craved to enforce. That, I do know, I'm thankful for. Because for how frightened I was to hear these insane ramblings, I was infinitely more relieved to hear the gunshot go off. 

A thunderous boom echoed throughout the woods, and the predator's skull and face caved in and exploded into a fine red mist. His lifeless body slump down onto mine. I screamed and kicked him away as I crawled out from under him. I scrambled into my savior's arms, a hunter. She was no older than me. I thanked her profusely and asked her how she knew to save me. She didn't have an answer for me then, but later she admitted she originally mistook the man for some sort of deer. 

He died how he wanted to live.

Like a fucking animal.