Beneath Her Flesh [Amnoartist]

[Amnoartist]

Beneath Her Flesh
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter I

The crowd’s curious mutterings were near predictable, all trying to get a better view of the crime scene - a brutal murder. The third one this week, no less, and in the alleyway of Beatrice’s fifties-themed American diner, Pinup, one of the most popular meet-up spots in Black Peak. The thing about Pinup is that it was probably the safest place in the whole of Black Peak, an otherwise altogether disreputable hovel for the corrupt and immoral. But now with a fresh murder quite literally around its neon-lit corner, Pinup wasn’t so safe anymore.

“The third one this week, you know.” Beatrice wiped a tear away with a handkerchief provided by her friend. Beatrice knew the murder would taint her establishment, meaning her business would probably suffer too. ‘The third one this week,’ she repeated inwardly, but there were at least fifteen victims in total. The police could never find a distinctive MO that would help them catch the killer, which not only made things difficult but also generated a sense of distrust and incompetence in the force. Whoever the killer was, they were good.

Beatrice looked on at the detective leading the investigation, crouched over what had to be the victim, whose body was draped over a white sheet, her legs sticking out from the end. The detective, Xander Lodge, winced and fought back the building urge to regurgitate his latest meal when peeling back the sheet to look at the victim’s face. Or at least what was left of it. Skin had apparently been stripped clean off to expose bone tissue that helped make up the majority of her cheeks and upper jaw, done so probably with a scalpel or some other utensil. An eye had been scooped out with surgical precision so that its respective socket remained untouched, and bloodied locks of the victim’s hair laid on the rain-soaked asphalt, suggesting the suspect pulled the victim by the hair prior to the murder.

“Xander?”

Xander flinched in shock, not expecting to hear anyone talk to him. It was an explicit order of his that nobody interrupted him when— Of course, he didn’t expect the voice to be Carly’s, his partner. Carly was younger than Xander by a few years but was a fast learner, which helped her rise through the ranks of the Black Peak police department rather quickly. But in being younger, it wasn’t a good idea for her to see this.

“You hear me? I said, what are we looking at?”

Xander had more field experience than his younger counterpart, but that didn’t help him much with going up against this murderer. Most killers had motives, reasons to brutally kill someone, while this maniac seemed to do it just for the fun. Well, that wasn’t entirely true—it’s just what they told the public. Nobody needed to know the darker truth - that there was a cannibalistic killer on the loose.

Xander peeled back the sheet so the victim’s chest could be revealed. Upon doing so, he realized it didn’t particularly agree with his stomach. The need to vomit was dire, but he didn’t want to contaminate the scene. As Carly came closer, taking notes as calmly as she could despite the horror laid before her, Xander examined the flesh torn from the victim’s breast and noted the fact there was only one.

“Killer must’ve made off with one of the victim’s breasts, and the crude cuts to this one indicate they were in a hurry.” Xander gagged, the nauseating stench of death bowling over him. One would think he’d gotten used to it by now but that was never the case. Everyone smelled different even in death. “No need to imagine what they’re doing with the one they have.”

“Any witnesses?” Carly didn’t brush off the fact Xander implied the suspect made off with the victim’s breast to eat it. It was just…she was so used to talking about these murders by now that they were an everyday conversation topic. Those who stood by the cordoned-off area would probably view her as a cold-hearted psychopath if they knew that. But what did they know? They didn’t even know the murderer was really a cannibal.

Xander shook his head. No witnesses this time, and even the one they were lucky enough to get previously couldn’t talk from shock-induced catatonia. He pointed at what remained of the victim’s cheeks. “This is new.”

“What about…further down?”

Xander hesitated, admittedly of the mind to finally leave the unfortunate victim be, but every detail mattered, every part of the chalky remains had to be searched for clues to the killer’s identity, no matter how finite. Reluctantly, he unfurled more of the sheet to uncover the girl’s bloodied and exposed stomach that had clearly been burst open somehow with extreme force, laying bare the sprouting ribcage, inside of which her lungs should’ve been.

“They’re not messing around this time, taking everything of value. The lungs, liver, even parts of the intestinal tubing were forcibly removed.” Xander examined the girl’s burst ribcage with marked uncertainty. Whoever she was, the killer deliberately murdered this girl with brutality, not to mention possessed a great deal of physical strength. Knowing this, the killer ought to be male. “She was killed in seconds. Didn’t stand a fucking chance.”

Carly fought the bubbling urge to vomit. Why did Xander have to be so graphic with describing how the girl died? Wasn’t the fact she was practically exposed to the public like a presentation enough for him? Carly heaved a breath that clearly indicated a sense of annoyance. “We ought to wrap it up now. Coroner’s almost here.”

Xander didn’t say anything but agreed. It annoyed him to no end that no connection could be made between either of the killings. The murderer didn’t have predispositions towards any particular gender or age group, even sexuality meant nothing to them. The only thing they did have in common was that they all had something valuable to the killer: meat.

“We’ll catch them, one day.” Carly assumed her words fell on deaf ears, but the fact was, they were the one ray of hope necessary to keep going. Xander saw a rare form of preciousness in her that way. A sort of…innocence.

“I hope so.”

///

Kimberly Hardcastle couldn’t think straight past her sobbing, a handkerchief in hand to wipe away the seemingly endless tears. The family lawyer, Harold Jensen, a man clearly in the middle of his life, with leathering skin and greying hair, looked on. It was by sheer luck alone that he hadn’t started balding.

“Allow me to extend my condolences to you, Miss. I imagine this must be a hard time for you.” Jensen was met with more sobs, but Kimberly couldn’t make heads or tails over why she felt this way. Her mother did die but—  Jensen flipped open the Hardcastle family case file and skimmed the details, some of which were rather indecent. “Especially considering your own financial predicaments.”

Kimberly shot Jensen a deathly glare, seemingly bringing her sobs to an abrupt stare. While Jen knew of Kimberly’s monetary issues, this wasn’t the time to discuss such things, even if living in a one-room flat wasn’t in any way a decent way to live. “Just get on with it,” she coldly ordered, her tone changed to that of anger.

Clearing his throat, Jensen did as asked. Kimberly and her mother rarely saw eye-to-eye on most things, which was unfortunate and backed up in great detail in Jensen’s files. Skimming through them again, he winced at some of the details laid before him. Kimberly noted this as a deliberate tactic to stall.

“Jensen, I don’t care what your thoughts are on what happened to me as a kid.” Kimberly didn’t notice she was unconsciously tapping her foot of the perfectly polished wooden floor in nerves, too focused on the now to care. “You should care about what happens to me now. That’s how you get paid.”

Jensen was deaf to his client’s demand, still reading the files like a kid would their favourite novel, pulled into the particulars like they were a vicious black hole. Gulping, one specific detail stood out from all the rest, forcing Jensen to feel nothing but pity. “You’re…the product of rape?”

Kimberly fought the urge to shout, digging her nails into her palms. The girl was better than this but a certain darkness forever slumbered within her. Kimberly didn’t say anything because there was no need to. It was all in her face.

Jensen continued reading the details, much to Kimberly’s irritation. Her father didn’t want anything to do with her, and as it turned out, Kimberly’s mother resented her for it, which explained why they were rarely of the same mind. But Kimberly loved her mother still, in some capacity.

Having reached the end of the case file, Jensen finally decided to address the subject of Kimberly’s mother’s will. It was no secret Kimberly was more interested in what would be handed down to her than the idea of a proper burial for her mother. But the expression Jensen displayed implied there may be a slight issue.

“Turns out most of the contents of your mother’s will shall go to your sister Ivy.” Jensen hesitated to reveal the more distressing fact of information, not knowing how Kimberly would react to that which was just revealed, let alone what would be. But what good would it do? “Her being institutionalized is the issue.”

“Si-sister?”

Surprise struck Jensen. This was a particularly bizarre turn of events. Admittedly, he had expected Kimberly to go ballistic over the fact her mother’s will hadn’t in any way, shape or form held any importance to her. Almost like Kimberly. “You…didn’t know you had a sister?”

“No. No, I didn’t.” Kimberly had intensified the tapping of her feet, not in nervousness this time, but distress. She had a sister? Institutionalized at that. “I didn’t know I had anyone. Thought I was alone.”

Jensen saw Kimberly’s heartache widen. Between her mother’s death and only now just discovering she had a sister, it was no wonder she started crying again. But Jensen couldn’t tell if they were that of joy or anger. Looking back, Kimberly’s hopes of having a decent life were crushed by arguably a total stranger. But Jensen had to take the risk and assume Kimberly had genuine interest in meeting her sibling.

Jensen opened his desk drawer and pulled out a small slip of paper, writing  onto it what Kimberly assumed were the contact details for were her sister Ivy was being homed.

“Any idea why she’s being institutionalized?”

Jensen frowned, handing her the slip. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

///

Consciousness finally came over Jenny. The last thing she remembered was downing what had to be her fourth glass of rose wine. Now she not only found herself in a place she didn’t recognize but distressing too; an old school hall, whose walls were the subject of years-long decay and asbestos, chipping away bit by bit to reveal the sickening grunge hidden underneath. And the smell—

Jenny moved sidewards in an effort to get a clearer view of her surroundings but was restrained by the unexpected weight of handcuffs clapped to her wrists and conjoined to the edges of a gurney. As one can imagine, relief in finding a conscious state was quickly replaced with unbridled fear. She wasn’t going anywhere.

“HELP! HELP!” Almost as if to mock her, Jenny’s calls echoed through the hall to meet nothing but eerie stillness, the only thing to futilely contradict it being the rattlings of the cuffs as she tried to break herself free. But she didn’t know the cuffs had been bent and warped around the gurney too.

Eventually, Jenny’s efforts were subverted by echoing footsteps from the darkness, which abruptly ended when breaths that could only be described as aroused in nature made themselves known. Jenny’s fear only blossomed.

“Ah good, you’re awake. Was wondering I might have to do something about that.” The voice of Jenny’s kidnapper had purposefully been synthesized to make it sound less distinguishable. It was almost like two voices layered over one another. The aroused breaths remained, as did Jenny’s futile efforts to break free. Her determination to escape from captivity was unparalleled compared to her understanding that something about her felt different. At any rate, her captor merely looked on from the shadows. “It’s pointless. Even if you do, by some divine miracle, manage to escape, where would you go? You don’t know where you are even now.”

Jenny knew trying to escape was a risk she was willing to take.

“And even when it came to running…” A large, brilliant light burst to life above Jenny, revealing the true extent of her fateful predicament. Her legs had been savagely ripped off seemingly with brute force, exposing only the twitching tendons and fibres that connected them to her waist. “You would need legs for that. Yours were quite delicious. Fibrous and packed full of protein.”

Jenny screamed, finding not a single word that could form in her head, let alone slip free from her tongue. As she relentlessly shrieked, the tendons in her legs twitched uncontrollably as if trying to find and reattach themselves to the legs they belonged to.

“There’s no need to be so upset. I’ll be sure to eat the rest of you, tongue and all.” The captor’s tone implied they were not only looking forward to the sadistic act, not gearing up to do rather soon. “You should count yourself lucky I have chosen you as my next meal. You will be inside me and will help me grow and evolve.”

Tears relentlessly streamed from Jenny’s eyes. Unbeknown to her, she was inadvertently helping her would-be killer. The salt from her tears would only season or preserve her meat.

“You are so beautiful.”

Jenny watched in horror as an abnormally muscular arm shot out from the shadows, initially reaching for her shoulder before moving down to the rim of her sweat-stained dress.

“Be happy in knowing I will not make a fast meal out of you.”

Jenny’s responding scream was final.

[Amnoartist]

Beneath Her Flesh
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter II

Despite its name, Summerstone Medical Institution was far from inviting. Frankly, most of its patients were highly dangerous individuals liable to kill out of some sort of twisted sexual impulse than submit to those thought to help them get better and live stable lives. The fact of the matter was, ‘futility’ was a word commonly heard in the establishment. The interior certainly didn’t help things; plaster from the walls peeling away like skin from an onion, revealing the grimy insides, a patch of what could only be piss dried crudely in the middle of the floor. Kimberly didn’t care for that though, casually reaching into her jumper pocket to pull out the packet of cigarettes she snuck in, clearly breaking the hospital’s regulations. But then, Kimberly wasn’t one for respecting the rules anyway.

The cigarette lit, she leaned back on the chair to ease herself into relaxation, trying to drown out the moans from further down the hallway, not to mention ignore the incessant stares from the patient opposite her. Kimberly hated it when people stared at her like there was something wrong as if they saw something she couldn’t. Or maybe it was just the paranoia from all the drugs she took. Whatever the case, it always made her feel uneasy, and ironically, feel right at home in a place such as Summerstone. She didn’t even know the place existed until yesterday, like her sister Ivy. Admittedly, Kimberly preferred it if she could forget all that happened yesterday and just stay at home, sell to her customers and inject herself into a high. But no, for some reason Kimberly was compelled to see the sibling she didn’t even know existed, whether they were a mental case or not.

The clock struck nine. That meant she’d been waiting for a little over thirty minutes now and her most loyal customer would’ve been at her door ten minutes ago, probably rattling and desperate for another bag. Damn it, he’d just have to wait. The problem though, was that some serious competition for Kimberly was on the rise. Sure, she had the purest drugs at the cheapest price, but there was word on the street that this opposing supplier had new stuff like Blitz and Jinx. Those weren’t easy to make, so whomever this rising peddler was, they clearly had someone working for them who knew that sort of stuff, which put Kimberly in a hard spot. To counter, she could put her prices down, thus selling more, but that didn’t necessarily mean ends would meet.

Looking at the clock again, she sighed, irritation finally set in. Out of everything that would transpire out of the fateful first meeting with her younger sibling, Kimberly hoped it was just worth the wait.

Before long, a security guard peeked around the corner with a less-than-enthused expression, hard to determine whether it was born out of the collective depressive environment or Kimberly’s clear lack of respect for the rules. “This way, please.”

///

Ivy blinked, the sun bursting through the blinds to pierce her eyes as she sat on the edge of the bed looking out to the characteristically dismal air of Black Peak, the mousy blonde only seeing as much as the T-junction directly outside the hospital, everywhere else nothing to her but grey-black smudges in the distance. Given she didn’t remember much of Black Peak, Ivy wouldn’t know where to go beyond the junction. Simply put, in as much of the fact it was a mental institution, she felt safe in Summerstone and it was her home. She even made friends there, as few in number as they were.

As the door leading into the private room creaked open, Ivy flinched. She hated loud noises. That plus the fact she rarely spoke, generally avoided eye contact and mostly kept to herself gave the Institution’s doctors cause to diagnose her as autistic. Moaning, she rubbed her ear as Doctor King, a man well into his fifties entered, frowning at having to see Ivy physically cringe and curl up into a ball. Being one of the few friends she had, King and Ivy got along pretty well together.

“Sorry dear, I’ll get one of the servicemen to look at that tomorrow.” It was almost second-nature for King to sit at the chair in the corner, knowing Ivy liked her space. In the years they were together, King had come to understand Ivy better than any of the other doctors in the establishment. Be that as it may, he was always wary and never dropped his guard. Ivy didn’t even bother to look at him, staring at the floor blindly. King didn’t mind. His legs crossed, he smiled. “Your sister’s waiting for you in the visitor’s room.”

Ivy turned to face the doctor as if to acknowledge him, if only for a moment before looking back out the window silent as a mute, having second doubts about the meeting she previously agreed to during her rare moments of communication. What would Kimberly think of her? Did she even know or care? Twiddling her thumbs, Ivy sighed.

“You’re nervous, I know. I imagine Kimberly would feel the same, in a way, about to meet the sister she had no idea existed.” King continued observing Ivy scratch her wrist nervously, not to mention look back again, this time long enough for him to look back at her piercing blue irises. “There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

Ivy shook her head. In as much of the fact it probably wouldn’t be revealed verbally, the young woman had a different opinion in regards to the good doctor’s statement. Had he forgotten what happened? Or did he choose to ignore it?

“What happened in the past was an accident. Bob forgave you for it. You’re better now.” King knew Ivy’s attitude was shifting to something more positive. He could see it in her actions; she was less stiff, loosening out of the fetal position she threw herself into when the door creaked open. “If you’re lucky, Kimberly may come with a gift.”

Its joints creaking, Ivy pushed herself up and off the bed to turn and face King, revealing swollen chesticular muscles underneath the plain white shirt and tight black shorts, allowing her pillar-thick quads and globular calf muscles to casually jut out, brilliant pink socks over the dainty feet that contrasted the blonde’s comparatively hulkish form.

“Good girl,” King encouraged.

///

Heaving a conclusive breath, it didn’t take Kimberly long to plough through her third cigarette in wait at the visiting room Its standards were in any form no higher than the rest of the institution. Frankly, the grungy texture surrounding the impatient girl brought her close to regurgitating. Or perhaps the chemical imbalance of all the pills she took beforehand. It was by divine miracle alone she wasn’t high as a kite.

Crossing her legs under the table, the moment of truth had come for Kimberly, putting the cigarette out in sync with the large doors in front spreading open like angels’ wings to, at first, the good Doctor King before the tall…creature behind him took precedence, long blonde hair draped over its face to hide what laid underneath as if there was something to hide. Naturally, the stark contrast between this thing and her forced Kimberly to reassess the situation. This was a mental institution, so there was no reason to think the sibling she had was a cold-hearted killer. But the relaxed posture from King intimated otherwise. Even so, it didn’t stop Kimberly from sinking further into the seat in fear, taking note of everything the tall monstrous thing had, from vascular quadriceps to a neck rivalling that of a prized bull. There was no way in hell this was Ivy.

The chair creaking, she sat opposite, saying nothing and predictably choosing to stare blankly at the diminutive and pasty-skinned brunette that had to be her older sister. The thick blonde mane parted, Ivy’s eyes came into view just enough for Kimberly to see their distinctive piercing blue irises, a painfully beautiful contrast to her otherwise dim hazels. The silence between both sisters was long and harsh, almost deafening if not for the incessant screams from behind the hall. This triggered a flinch from Ivy.

“You must be Ivy.” In as much of the fact it was unfortunate, Kimberly was met with silence, Ivy being too arguably interested in patterns on the brunette’s leather boots to care for even a single word in reply. Truth be told, Kimberly was used to that sort of thing anyway. “I’m Kimberly, your older sister. Don’t think it would be all that fair of me to call myself the ‘big’ sister.”

Kimberly’s joke fell flat, forcing her to look to Doctor King for guidance. He initially was of the mind to help break the ice, but ultimately decided against it in knowing the siblings would have to do so on their own terms, even if it would be difficult on Ivy’s part. He sat close by at the opposite table with a clipboard and pen, no doubt taking notes of her etiquette. Admittedly, he expected the young woman to loosen up a bit around her sister. He wasn’t expecting drastic changes, but enough to know she wasn’t a lost cause.

On the other side of the fence was, of course, Kimberly. She hadn’t given much thought to how was best to start a conversation with her long-lost sister, if the thing before her truly was Ivy. Twiddling her thumbs, Kimberly sighed.

“Yeah, so Mum’s dead.” Her choice of topic may have been heartless, but that’s the way Kimberly was, practically self-raised on account of the lack in nurturing she needed from a mother-figure. That was Black Peak in a nutshell. Ivy offered a quick glance in response before returning to the more interesting patterns in Kimberly’s boots. “Don’t know if you knew that already, but there you go.”

Clearly, things weren’t going as planned. But then, Kimberly really didn’t care that much anyway, here for other reasons, which, conveniently, had Ivy at the centre. Despite that, she was willing to play along, pulling the packet of cigarettes out her jacket pocket and offering them to the behemoth blonde. Unsurprisingly, Doctor King was quick to object.

“I don’t think—”

Kimberly scoffed. The guy ought to live a little. Life was too short to have to live by rules. Shaking the pack, Kimberly implored Ivy to take the cigarette seemingly poking out enough to tease her. And the suggestion in her eyes implied she was tempted, not to mention the snaring words from Kimberly, like she was the Devil himself. “You live in a shitty place like Black Peak long enough, you’re gonna start smoking eventually. Makes no sense not to start now.”

Seeing Ivy’s hand linger near the pack of cigarettes, Doctor King was beginning to have second thoughts about this arranged meeting between the two sisters. Kimberly’s comment about their mother being dead? As insensitive as it was, it was fine. Ivy knew that already. But the line in the sand for King was when Kimberly tried to coerce Ivy into smoking. He’d spent God knows how long teaching the woman the principles of right and wrong, only for them to nearly be scuppered by the simple shake of a packet of cigarettes. Despite that, King maintained professionalism and opted to give Kimberly a light scolding instead. “I don’t think your mother—”

Kimberly slammed the cigarettes down, flattening them so the powdered tobacco spilt across the table. Ivy flinched, gripping the edges of the bench in fear, legs curled to suggest bunching up into a ball. Kimberly noticed this but didn’t give a shit. “My mother was a cunt who hated the fact I lived. She only carried me to term because she wanted to spite my bastard father, which is ironic because she clearly ended up having another kid without my knowing. Not that she fucking gave a shit. Probably doesn’t even now, at six feet under.”

Ivy tried to focus on the patterns bedecking Kimberly’s boots, doing anything to drown out her anger, an emotion that always seemed to just cut through the large girl like a knife through hot butter. But the seemed the brunette was far from finished, catching her pointing from the corner of her eye.

“You’re lucky to not know what Mum was like. She might’ve carried you to term like me, but for some fucking reason…” Kimberly’s glare intensified, perhaps for nothing but the dramatic effect or that anger had reached a semblance of boiling point. Either way, it was only now Ivy had decided to give her sister undivided attention. “…she preferred you.”

Nervous, Ivy bit her lip. She wanted to tell Kimberly she liked her leather boots, having not seen anything like them before, but didn’t know the right words to use. Pretty? But then, Ivy didn’t know how Kimberly would react to realizing there wasn’t as much interest in knowing how their mother acted as in a pair of boots.

Despite that, things seemed to just suddenly change. Kimberly’s anger subsided in sync with a definitive breath, wiping tears from her cheeks. Kimberly needed those tears to come out; it had been months since they were first bottled up, long before her mother passed. “But I will take you home with me because, despite our sisterhood, we’ve got one thing in common—”

Doctor King’s brow curled curiously, Ivy twiddling her thumbs.

“—No one.”

///

Ivy didn’t think she’d ever reach this moment in her life, to be literally just a few feet away from the Institute’s main door, Kimberly and Doctor King at either side, the medical practitioner offering more helping than the blonde’s older sibling. In as much of the fact she’d dreamed of this moment of finally gaining freedom, Ivy was nervous, which was reasonable to understand given Kimberly’s earlier words of determent. Regardless, the doctor urged her on as Kimberly’s lack of patience became further evident. The big thing that was her sister sure was taking her sweet time.

Brushing past her, Kimberly stormed off into the car park, leaving Ivy to wonder if her having done that was her fault, to think that she’d done something wrong. Doctor King was shocked to see Kimberly abandon her sister so easily, yet didn’t go after her for fearing Ivy might freeze from sudden loneliness. That said, he knew this would be difficult for Kimberly; her own problems sandwiched between recognizing the existence of a long-lost sister and the death of their mother ought not to be easy to handle.

“It’s just hard on her, that’s all,” King soothed Ivy.

Before long, the unmistakable screech of tires filled the musky day air as Kimberly’s car a black Volkswagen Beetle, sharply turned the corner to park outside the Institute’s doors, Ivy predictably winced and dropped her suitcase to cover her ears, the contents floating gently across the carpet with the gentle wind. As Doctor King crouched to gather her stuff, clothes, a couple of good luck cards from the nurses and more competent patients and a curious magazine. Kimberly peeked out from the window as it was rolled down. She clearly flaunted the thought that if Ivy couldn’t go to the car, it would be brought to her. “You getting in or what?”

Handing her the suitcase, Doctor King smiled, confident in Ivy’s ability to do well in the world beyond Summerstone. She was one of the rare cases in individuals who showed genuine signs of improvement after being admitted. King just hoped Kimberly wouldn’t be a bad influence and undo all his work. “You’ll be fine.”

You’ll be fine. Upon hearing those words, most individuals would feel a sense of confidence in themselves and smile, if even just slightly. But Ivy was different. Ivy, being Ivy, stood in silence for a moment as if in hesitance, looking at the good doctor before simply walking on and out of the Institute, putting her life as a patient behind her. It wouldn’t be remiss of King to feel even a tinge of emotion fill him as Ivy left, given they’d spent so long together. But clinging on wouldn’t help things, which explained why he parted just as soon as she did.

Ivy hadn’t been in a car before. Or at least, she couldn’t remember the last time she was in one. Were they always this small?  This loud? It didn’t help that Kimberly had heavy rock music blasting at full volume. Ivy wanted to, had to cover her ears, but didn’t want compromise the unpredictable integrity of the suitcase’s lock, unable to imagine how irritated her sister would be if all her belongings spouted onto the floor.

Not that she had much of a choice.

Jerking forth when the car rolled over the Institute’s speed bump, the suitcase’s lock saw fit to spring loose and expel the contents within.

“Aw, for fuck—” Kimberly screeched to a halt, watching as Ivy, overcome with shock, frantically fumbled around to fish her belongings from the floor; some articles of clothing, shoes and a couple of Get Well cards from the nurses and more competent patients. Though perhaps the most interesting item recovered was a magazine that looked to be at least a couple of years old. A blonde woman in a bikini bedecked the front presented in a crab most muscular pose. Kimberly watched as Ivy shoved her clothes into the suitcase, forced into pressing down on it to keep the latch from springing again.

Stressed out, Kimberly reached for the pack of cigarettes in her jacket pocket and lit one, rolling the window down slightly to ventilate. Ivy offered knowing glances as the unmistakable grey smoke billowed from the end.

“Shouldn’t smoke when you’re driving.”

Kimberly glanced derisively.

[Amnoartist]

Beneath Her Flesh
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter III

Grunting exasperatedly, Kimberly struggled to unlock the door leading into her apartment. Ivy stood behind her clutching the suitcase, anxiously looking down the hallway in both directions. The building was no more inviting than the institute; burn marks seemed to indicate a fire of some sort broke out only recently, in partnership with the patches of damp dotted across the walls, and the occasional shouts from the neighbours. It was a hell-hole. It was Kimberly’s home.

Eventually, the satisfying click of the lock turning brought relief to the two sisters. Kimberly would’ve given up otherwise and kick the door in if she had to keep going, while Ivy struggled to resist the shouts from a few doors down. The door groaned open to reveal the equally disheartening air of Kimberly’s apartment. The curtains were drawn, letting only the slightest crack of moonlight into the not-so-humble abode, various recreational drugs laid atop a small desk in the corner, next to which were small polythene bags and a weighing scale. There was a TV at the right-side wall but looked like it hadn’t been used in months. The unmistakable smell of sex hung in the air too; pungent and rich.

“Welcome home, sis.” Kimberly’s tone was an obvious indication of disinterest. She slumped into the couch and slowly peeled off her boots and jacket before, almost as if acting on pure, subconscious drive, sitting down at the table in the corner and started counting the pills.

Kimberly didn’t even notice Ivy stood aimlessly in the middle of the room taking in the drab atmosphere of what would be her for indeterminable future. This was the first real home she had in years and didn’t know how to live. Where was she supposed to sleep?  Ivy was afraid to ask in case it was a stupid question, which in turn would no doubt receive a mocking answer. As far as she was aware, there was only the one bed in the next room. Instead, she watched Kimberly weigh the pills and pack them, no doubt to be sold to her customers. It was upon closer inspection Ivy noticed the cocaine near the desk’s edge. She had to speak up.

“Drugs are bad.”

Kimberly stopped, as if her joints had frozen up, irritated by the words from her sister. Ivy hadn’t said much of anything since they met, but all she did say was nothing but judgmental. Just like Mum. Turning her head, she glared at her long-lost sibling, filing through all the various insulting ways she could respond but instead opted to continue with the task at hand, using an old credit card to make a line of coke, finely dicing the snowy powder.

“Mum would—”

Kimberly had had enough. Tossing the card aside, she pulled herself up to stand face-to-face with Ivy, an obvious indication of annoyance painted on her face in the form of a grimace. Kimberly wasn’t intimidated by Ivy’s larger form, staring coldly into the blonde’s eyes for a reaction.

“Okay. New ground rules. You live with me, you don’t bring up Mum - ever. You can share my food, even my clothes. But you don’t talk about Mum. Got it?” Kimberly maintained her unflinching stare in the hopes that Ivy would blink. “You can thank her for putting me in this shit state. She wouldn’t give a shit.”

Ivy just stood there, trying to process the meaning behind Kimberly’s last statement.

Sizing her up, Kimberly was visibly repulsed by Ivy’s odd choice of clothing. It wasn’t that much unlike an old lady’s garb. Kimberly scoffed. “You gotta get a sense of style about you, girl. And a shower.”

///

Ivy stepped out of the shower carefully, her calf muscles rippling like gentle waves as her feet touched the glistening tiles. This had been her first proper shower in months since the boiler system in Summerstone seized up last winter. The institution was running low on funds and could barely scrape together enough money for the place to get a heat. It was by luck alone everyone survived. So for Ivy to get a warm shower at her questionable sibling’s home felt more like a gift from God.

Wiping the steam away from the mirror, she sighed dejectedly at her reflection, contemplating whether staying with Kimberly was truly worth it. Her mother always said drugs were bad and could kill, but Kimberly said she drove her down that path. Ivy didn’t want her sister to be a bad influence, but she didn’t have anyone else, had nowhere else to go. She shrugged, watching her deltoids pop, bulge and roll. The fact Ivy was this large muscular thing probably didn’t help either. It was likely difficult enough for Kimberly to come to grips with the fact she had a sister.

Kimberly had fished out some old clothes presumably suitable for Ivy; a checked shirt not unlike a lumberjack’s, denim jeans with rips fashioned into the knees and light brown boots. The boots were nice, but the shirt and jeans burned holes in her head. It was the textures - they annoyed her, creeped her out like a phobia. But she was too afraid to ask for something else, didn’t want to come across as a burden. She hadn’t even bothered to look herself in the mirror yet. Sometimes it was an internal debate on whether it was due to her Autism, or the fact she was scared of herself. Compromising, Ivy decided to slip into her underwear and socks.

A sudden knock from the apartment’s door caused her to jolt with fright. Voices next, Kimberly’s first, then someone else’s, presumably a male, though their words were difficult to make out. Stress shot through Ivy like a needle. Having to stay with her sister was unanticipated enough a change, she didn’t expect someone else to enter the picture so soon. Biting her lip, she wasn’t aware of her gripping the towel tightly.

The voices became clearer without warning, closer to the bathroom.

“I was busy. You can’t wait an hour?”

“I’m not paying you to waste my time, bitch.”

A moment’s pause, long enough for anything to happen, yet, being behind the door, it was impossible for Ivy to get a clear picture, though some details were obvious. The visitor was clearly one of Kimberly’s customers - the same customer she was supposed to meet earlier in the day, hadn’t she visited Ivy.

“There. That should last you about a week. I’ve put in some Blitz too, to sweeten the deal.”

“Now that’s more like it.” Another pause, but this time its air felt different, calamitous like a knife revealing itself from the shadows. “You up for some fun tonight? Maybe I’ll bring a friend to make things more interesting.”

“No, Carl. I told you: no sex.”

“Always knew you were a carpet muncher anyway.”

“Fuck you.”

The reactionary thud was obvious - Carl had pushed Kimberly up against the wall in response to her retort, a switchblade held to her throat. But she didn’t say anything in return, instead, suppressing the boiling urge within. It was upon Carl’s attempt to goad a reaction out of Kimberly that the bathroom door creaked open, revealing Ivy in all her nakedness, albeit looking at Carl vacantly. His go-to reaction was to gaze perversely at her nubile genitalia bulging underneath her underwear before registering the rest of her, muscles and all, not particularly fazed by her largeness.

“Case in point. You into she-males now?”

“Please leave.” Ivy’s words were softly-spoken. Not exactly the best way to make a potential attacker do one’s bidding, but she didn’t know better. She didn’t even have the courage to look at Carl, instead staring sheepishly at the carpet’s patterns.

“Aww, the little lesbo’s upset.” Carl laughed, flashing a sadistic grin. Frankly, he found a sick sense of enjoyment in seeing Ivy naked, shamelessly redirecting his obvious erection at her as if to entice her, before pulling his trousers down just enough to whip his cock out. “Why don’t you have a taste of this instead?”

Ivy quickly glanced at Carl’s manhood before flinching, reflexively clenching his fists. Frozen to the spot, she didn’t know what to do.

But the expression from Carl seemed to indicate he had second thoughts, fixing his trousers up again. “Nah. You look like you’d just complain.”

Pulling away from her, he gave Kimberly a knowing wink as if to indicate his likely return. Great - just what the girls needed. The door slammed shut upon Carl’s departure, allowing them to finally breathe. Kimberly instinctively reached for her neck to wipe away the trickle of blood from the fresh nick Carl gave her.

“Where are your clothes?”

Ivy sighed, forgetting. “Don’t like them. They…they annoy me.”

“What do you mean, they—” Kimberly stopped, realizing. The Autism. Hopefully, that wasn’t going to be too much of a problem. “Right. I’ll see what I can do.”

///

Despite being around death more times than she could count, Carly hated morgues. It was the idea that she felt outnumbered and at times alone that nibbled at her the most. Xander may have been at her side but that didn't amount to much on this occasion. It didn't take much to figure out he'd been drinking again, something the police chief had already, repeatedly scolded him about. A coping mechanism he called it. Maybe, but that didn’t give Xander cause to look the way he did; dishevelled and distant. He clearly tried shaving at some point during the night, but the cuts across his chin indicated even that could've proved disastrous.

Still, Xander ought to be happy in knowing he was far more fortunate than the stiff presented in front of them. Harriet Ford, found in the alley behind Beatrice’s Pinup diner. Carly still hadn’t fully recovered from the first time she looked at her, yet had to steel herself for the likely more gruesome autopsy. Perhaps it wasn't so bad an idea that Xander drank after all; he looked at Harriet’s corpse with eyes cold as her own, unflinching despite the smell of booze billowing from his breath.

“You never got around to seeing this last time.” The coroner turned Harriet on her back, revealing the grotesque indications that the killer had at one point tried cracking her skull open; splits in her skin and the whiteness of bone daring to bust from it. Harriet fought the urge to throw up at seeing this, knowing doing so wouldn’t be seen as admirable in Xander’s eyes, especially considering their line of work, even if she was just a rookie. “Killer took almost everything; heart, lungs, liver, pancreas. Judging by the damage to her forehead, I can only assume they were after the brain as well.”

“They were gonna eat the brain?” Carly gripped the edges of the autopsy table, severely doubting her ability to hold back the vomit building within her, feeling Xander’s judgemental gaze on her like a burning light. “Why the fuck would they eat that?”

“Oh no. There’s no guarantee they were going to eat it like the rest of her insides, although it’s definitely a possibility.” The coroner gently laid Harriet down again. “Perhaps they saw a sense of value in it though.”

“You mean, monetary value? To sell it?” Xander couldn't tell if the sudden nip in his own head was part of his hangover or a cruel circumstantial joke played on him. His eyes blurred, he blinked, also hoping he wasn’t right on his hypothesis.

“Perhaps. You’d be surprised how much a human brain would be worth on the black market.”

Carly had had her fill of brains for the day, opting to change the subject that would better help her gag reflex than anything else. “What else can you tell us?”

“The MO definitely matches the killer we’ve been looking for, but…” the coroner trailed off, unsure if he should disclose the information he had. It could blow the investigation apart, even in spite of the lack of evidence the duo had for the case. “The strength applied to this killing is considerably less than the one prior, as if the killer itself has, somehow, become stronger between victims.”

“That’s only three days. How—” Carly stopped, picking up on Xander’s incoherent mutterings, then plucking out the curious words from them: growth hormone.

“We could be looking at a male perp. Maybe a bodybuilder with a history of violence brought on by anabolics?”

The coroner nodded. “It would certainly line up with the increase in strength, depending on the steroid’s potency and dosage. But—”

“—That doesn't explain why the victim was female” Carly pointed out. “Not to mention the cannibalism.”

“No.” The coroner was stumped and didn't want to admit it. Even so, he could feel the sensation of judgement be cast on him anyway. “I’ll do what I can to figure that out though.”

In as much of the fact Xander didn't place much of it in anyone, Carly trusted the coroner. Admittedly, more so than her own partner. She was just about to thank him for doing so well when the doors leading into the morgue barged open before a plump police officer huffed his way over to the detectives.

“We got another one.”

[Amnoartist]

Beneath Her Flesh
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter IV

Carly’s car swerved to make a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding an oncoming truck. Xander could barely keep his booze in from her speeding, but they had to make it on-scene soon as they could. Another victim from the cannibal. Just what the doctor ordered. She came to a sudden screeching stop an inch away from hitting a lamppost. Her engine idled for a moment in sync with Xander’s heaving breaths.

“I know we were supposed to be here already, but you need to chill with the speeding, kid. We’re supposed to examine crime scenes, not be one.”

Xander opened the door on his side and left Carly to stew. There he was with that ‘kid’ comment again. She’d already confronted him about the belittling several times, but he never seemed to take heed of it. Frustrated, she glanced out her window at the crime scene. An old school that had been abandoned for years on account of the supposed threatening level of asbestos. Not just any school, though, but the one Carly attended as a child.

Groaning exasperatedly, she left her car and paced along the path between the inches-tall grass. It seemed nobody from the council had bothered to at least keep the surrounding area presentable. But then, what would have been the point? She stopped at Xander’s side but didn’t bother to say a word, still miffed. An awkward upward glance at him at best, nothing more. He didn’t notice it, too busy waiting for the group of police officers to file out of the school so they could have the scene to themselves. Or maybe he did notice it and just didn’t care.

I’m not a kid,” Carly scolded Xander through gritted teeth and suppressed anger. She may have been bold enough to make that statement, but in the face of things, being a rookie and having an evident lack of experience in the field were enough to betray her self-confidence. Carly just couldn’t see it.

“We’ll see,” Xander smirked. He admired ‘the kid’ for her assertiveness. But she was still a rookie. Xander glanced to his right, observing one of the officers taking the only witness’s statement, a homeless man. “What we got?”

“Witness claims to have been holing up in the school for years. Found the victim in the main hall where he sleeps,” the officer acknowledged.

Carly winced as another on-scene officer stumbled out of the school’s door. Dropping to his knees, he let loose a flow of putrid vomit onto the grass. Not one of the best sights. Groaning, he wiped his mouth as he rose to his feet.

“Case in point,” Xander retorted, gesturing to the officer’s badge. A sergeant. If someone experienced as he still managed to regurgitate at what could only be the display of the crime, it only stood to reason that Carly would do the same in turn.

***

The door creaked open. Even after all those years, Carly noticed it still made the shrill sound that could cut through one’s ears. Following Xander’s shadow, she glanced at the old children's’ drawings that reminded her of a happier time. Of a better Black Peak. That was a long time ago.

They came to a halt. Carly looked over Xander’s shoulder, realizing he’d stopped dead in front of two closed double doors that led into the old hall. It was simple enough an action for him to open them, but that wasn’t why he stopped. Carly knew this through his heaved breath. As if he was preparing himself for something. Xander, of all people, had to steel himself. The irony. He could see it, and even as he closed his eyes, the image was still burned into his skull. Xander knew Carly was lucky in not being able to see what he could.

He faced her. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Well, yeah. No point in turning back now, right? I mean, we were told to come here anyway, so…”

Xander sighed. Carly was right. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

The doors groaned open the same way the last one did, although at a slower pace as if to imply even they didn’t want Carly to see the disgusting display ahead. She had to prepare herself, but the question was if she could ever be prepared enough.

Then she saw it, already building herself up to vomit from the initial sight, heaving breaths to fight the urge. Xander was right - she was a rookie, and although she hadn’t caved as quickly as he assumed, it made Carly realize she had to wake up. All that was left was the upper torso, bloodied arms tied to a beam so the victim’s bare chest was exposed, allowing their entrails to casually spill out from within. Some of them dangled freely, but most were thrown over other beams and tied around them so pressure on the corpse intensified, revealing bone popping and cutting through the skin.

Then there was the face. And that’s when the problem arose. There wasn’t exactly one to even look at, substituted for a skinless mangled mound of flesh with only teeth and two petrified eyeballs staring back, looking at Xander and Carly as though they were to blame for their fate.

Carly vomited, heaving a lot more than the officer did. Pulling her head up to look back at the eyes, her vision blurred for a moment before tuning back into perfect focus. Admittedly, this was one of those moments in life where she wished she couldn’t see. Like Xander, the image of the corpse had burned itself into her skull.

“Where are the legs? And the face?”

“Guess is our flesh-eating perp took the legs for steak tonight. If they’re not eaten already. No idea what they’d do with the face though.” Xander moved in closer to the victim, taking note of the untouched mane of black curly hair and floral dress. So the victim was a female. That was something at least.

Carly looked around the scene for clues. The fact the victim was without a lower half likely laid the groundwork for her search. The homeless man’s bed, a few spent needles at the side. Dried blood near the bleachers, likely the victim’s. And a gurney oddly placed in the corner. But then Carly realized.

“No shoes.”

Xander’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“No shoes. She’s wearing a dress, so that implies she was going somewhere social. A party or date. She’d probably be wearing heels to compliment the dress. But there’s nothing here.”

“The perp likely nabbed the victim from somewhere else before bringing them here. Probably lost the shoes in the attempt to escape.”

“No, look.” Carly moved back over to the victim and knelt in front of the dried pool of blood, pointing leftwards to the faint scratches in the wood. Recent. “There was a scuffle. The victim was bisected here. There’s an old gurney in the corner that’s out of place. She was likely tied up so the perp could do their ‘job’ easier. No tools though.”

“How did I not notice that?”

Carly smirked. She was about to go deeper into her investigation to find the perpetrator’s tools when her mobile buzzed. A text from her sister Wendy:

Gotta head out for a while. Mind watching Jodie for a couple of hours?

Carly was torn. She needed to help Xander with the investigation. But her relationship with Wendy was not in a good position right now. Admittedly, it was a surprise in itself that Wendy even considered Carly as Jodie's minder.

“Damn it. Can you hold down the fort for a couple of hours? I gotta look after my niece for a bit.”

“Seriously? You’ve more important shit to do here.” Xander scoffed. He remembered the time Carly was insistent on wanting to be a good detective, ‘Learning from the best,’ as she put it. If only she knew about Xander’s alcoholism at the time. But he knew Carly wouldn’t learn anything if she kept leaving him. It wasn’t the first time. “That sister of yours sure has a knack for butting in at the wrongest times.”

“Come on, man. Do me a solid here, eh?” Carly bit her lip realizing her words weren’t penetrating Xander like they used to. She couldn’t afford to keep pushing Wendy away. “I mean, it’s not like she’s going anywhere we won’t know about,” she added, referring to the dangling victim.

Xander remained silent. Admittedly, he was always so soft on Carly because he liked her. The thing was, like with Wendy, things between them would turn icy if he kept antagonizing her.

“I’ll buy you a beer.”

Xander’s ears pricked up. Carly knew not to exploit his problem like that but she really, really wanted to set things straight with Wendy. Xander groaned defeatedly. He just couldn’t resist a good drink. “Two.”

“One and a shot.”

“Deal.”

Carly sighed in relief. “Oh, thank God! You’re a life-saver, Xander.” Carly headed for the door almost directly, adjusting her suit jacket. Xander watched with a slight smirk as she left, ogling her firm glutes that tightly pressed against her form-fitting trousers.

He turned back to the victim. “Now. Where’s your face?”

***

Carly sighed, looking at her watch. Eight-thirty. She’d been waiting outside Wendy’s house for nearly two minutes now. Any other time, Carly would have left at this point, but Wendy was always one for keeping people waiting, even family. Carly didn’t even have an umbrella, so the torrential rain from the thunderstorm that continued to roll through Black Peak drenched the young woman from head to toe. That wouldn’t leave Carly looking presentable for her sibling whenever she bothered to open the door.

“Sake. Hurry up.” Carly knocked on the door again, louder this time. She even considered hitting it with the edge of her boot for extra loudness, but decided against it. Looking down, she made sure the bag of soft jelly sweets she bought for Jodie was in her handbag and not left in the back seat of her car. They poked out next to her lipstick and purse.

The door finally opened, much to Carly’s relief. There was a hint of annoyance gently boiling away in her veins, but she managed to hold it back. Wendy’s face peeked out first, caked in makeup. The briskest of smiles she flashed was all Carly got in return for having waited so long. Wendy pulled the door open wider, revealing the thick muscular arms and floral dress pressed tightly against her clearly pregnant belly. Carly didn’t need that reminder but had to live with it.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Uh-huh.” Carly rolled her eyes as she entered the house, resting her handbag on the small table. The old wooden statue was still there since the last time she visited months earlier. The framed photo of Wendy and Jodie was there, too. Carly rummaged into her bag and pulled out the bag of sweets for Jodie.

“Oh, it’s too late for her to have them now.” Her tone didn’t suggest it as such, but Wendy was annoyed by her sister having produced the bag of confectioneries. Carly could tell just by the look in her eyes; no explicit gaze that suggested disdain, but the eyelids that narrowed only slightly. “We’re watching what he eats.”

“Wendy, she’s a kid. Let her live a little.” Carly removed her shoes placed them squarely next to Wendy’s running shoes and a pair of black Oxfords. “We were kids once ourselves. You wanted sweets all the time.”

“I don’t need you telling me how to raise my child, Carly. Especially when it’s obvious you won’t be having one of your own. Someone had to continue the family.”

Carly looked away, playing deaf and dumb to her sister’s wisecracking. Inwardly, though, she screamed. She had a Hysterectomy for a reason - and a good one at that. Wendy was the reminder of what could’ve been. Looking to the floor, Carly noticed the two large duffel bags resting behind Wendy. Putting two and two together, Carly realized her sister wasn’t going out on a social call.

“An overnight stay? Really? Wendy, I can’t afford to watch Jodie all night. You can't just dump her on me. I’ve got shit to do.” Carly grew exasperated at the fact she’d been baited into being the overnight babysitter while Wendy— The fact was it wasn’t the first time she’d been duped. Carly wanted to mend the rift between them, but that’d be impossible to do if Wendy kept running off. “Two hours is as much I can offer before I gotta bolt back to—”

“Carly!” Jodie's chirpy voice was always soothing. Like a glass of warm milk to help you sleep at night. Carly found herself easing out of her anxiousness as her niece approached. “Are you staying tonight?”

“I dunno, I—”

“Pwease, pwitty pwease?”

The urgency in Jodie's plea was like a punch to the gut. Carly was torn. It had been a long time since she visited Jodie, but at the same time, she had work to do. Xander was only gracious enough to give her a couple of hours. But Jodie's pleading eyes—

Carly sighed. “Okay. Go set things up in the living room. We’ll watch a movie together.” Handing her the bag of sweets, she watched Jodie bounce up and down with excitement before running off into the kitchen.

“I told you not to give them to her.” Wendy’s tone was a clearer indication of displeasure this time. Carly had overstepped her boundaries and she’d only just set foot in the house only a moment ago. Wendy’s attentiveness to her daughter's wellbeing was almost obsessive in a way. Carly just couldn’t see it.

“Lay off it, will ya? Christ.”

“I could always get Missus Thatch to watch—”

“Now, now, ladies. Let’s keep things civil.”

The voice from upstairs brought Wendy’s warning to an abrupt halt. Turning to the staircase, she boasted a smile as her smartly-dressed father, Aldus, a big, strapping guy with an impressive beard, adjusted his baby blue tie before making his descent. Aldus took up most of the staircase's width, he was so wide from his musculature. Carly noticed he wasn’t wearing any shoes before realizing the Oxfords she saw belonged to him.

When he reached the bottom of the hall, Aldus’s signature smile met Wendy’s gaze. She rubbed her belly erotically at the mere fact he looked at her. “It’s the weekend. Let him have a little treat.”

“I just don’t think—”

“Come now. Carly’s right, she's just a girl.”

Wendy shot a glance at her sister. It may have lasted only a brief moment, but Carly could tell Wendy was seething with rage. And for once, she actually took pleasure in the fact.

“And how’s our little one doing?” Aldus knelt on both knees and kissed Wendy’s belly. She made sure to rub it slowly, knowing her father loved it when she did that. Wendy was positively radiant, glowing even.

“Kicking as usual” Wendy disclosed with a wince as her expected child kicked after the fact. “And don’t you forget. There could be two in there.”

Carly looked away. She’d known about Wendy’s relationship with their father for years. At first, it started as light petting, nothing too strange. But as the years went by and Wendy aged, Aldus’s fervent “interest” in his daughter matured, in turn. When she turned sixteen, Aldus had comprised a plan to groom Wendy into his fantasy woman - a bodybuilder pumped full of steroids. The thing that jolted Carly the most was that Wendy complied.

Then the sex behind their mother Katherine’s back started. Carly had already figured it all out on her own by then, having developed a keen mind for finding clues, but Katherine was blind to it. Eventually, though, Carly came home from detective training one day and found her mother hanging from the living room fan. Wendy assumed it was owing to the depression that came with knowing about the decline in Black Peak’s former virtue, but Carly knew the truth, even if Wendy didn’t - especially now.

Carly considered informing the police about what happened but hesitated on account of not knowing where it put her in the equation. Carly had worked long and hard to be a detective and didn’t want the going-ons within her household to tarnish her name or what it meant for her going forward. Since then, she’d been carrying a secret. Since then, Wendy had gotten pregnant. Since then, Carly had been helping Wendy raise her sister Jodie.

Carly mustered the courage to look back at her sister and father who casually exchanged kisses of passion. Aldus had his hand up Wendy’s dress, pleasuring her like he used to while she ran a hand down the length of his trousers that hid his monster cock.

Carly coughed in an attempt for her relatives to break away from their lust. “There’s a time and place for that sort of thing. And apparently, you’ve paid to stay there for the night.”

“Of course.” Aldus pulled away from Wendy who tried to lean in for another quick kiss, but he was insistent. Grabbing the bags, Aldus headed for the door and reached out to kiss Carly in the cheek, but she pulled away with a flinch. Aldus smirked. “I forgot. You’re not like your sister.”

Wendy smirked devilishly, rubbing her belly again. “All the more for me.”

"if you need anything, give us a call. Though I imagine we'll likely be in bed by ten," Aldus mentioned.

Wendy chuckled girlishly at her father's insinuation, while Carly visibly cringed at what he implied.

Carly closed the door behind her. her rage towards the whole situation was unfounded. She didn’t notice she’d been digging her nails into her palms, or that she’d been biting her lip. The fact was she'd been tethering towards the edge. Inwardly again, she threatened to genuinely scream this time. But Jodie's dull giggles from the living room compelled Carly to calm. She was none the wiser.

***

Sat on the couch, Jodie chuckled at the movie heartily as she munched away at the packet of golden puffs she found stashed away in the kitchen cupboard. Carly watched her with a smile, taking a sip from her glass of juice. It’d been ages since the two of them sat together like this. It was just a shame Jodie didn’t know the truth about her birth. Would he ever find out? Or would he forever be raised by Wendy to believe Carly was her aunt? She dreaded to think it would be the latter. In fact, it gave her a headache to do so.

The logs in the fireplace burned with a crackle. Carly looked up at the framed photos on the mantle. Wendy with her first place trophy from the Black Peak amateur bodybuilding contest a couple of years ago. Wendy with her first place trophy at the pros last year. Then a photo of Wendy in a white shawl turned sideways to flaunt her pregnancy - that was taken only a few weeks back. It was upon closer inspection Carly realized none of the photos had her in them, as if the mantle was a shrine to Wendy.

Carly's head throbbed. Reaching into the inner pocket of her jacket, she searched frantically for the bottle of pills she’d been taking for months behind Xander’s back. They were simple painkillers but she’d developed an addiction. The bottle was empty. Shit. What was she supposed to do now? It would be irresponsible to leave Jodie. And she couldn’t go with her to see her supplier. There was only one thing to do. Rummaging through the other pocket, she pulled out her phone.

***

Kimberly had been staring at the book on the store shelf for the better half of ten minutes. Should she? Shouldn’t she? A book on Autism in the family and how to cope with it had been tempting her back and forth long enough for other customers to think she was a misplaced mannequin. She had a small basket over her arm filled with a mix of items: meals for two, deodorant for Ivy, tampons and a bottle of breakfast juice. They were all necessary, but to Kimberly, the book felt prized.

Her mobile buzzed, bringing Kimberly out of her trance. It was Carly.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“You got any killers left? I’m out.”

Kimberly rolled her eyes. She didn’t need this distraction right now. Trying to understand Ivy was more important than Carly’s addiction. “I told you to pace yourself.”

“Is that a no?”

“No. I mean, yeah. I dunno.” Kimberly sighed. She wasn’t even sure there were any painkillers left in her stock. Even the private stash. “Can you meet me?”

“You gotta come here.”

“What?”

“My sister, she— Never mind. Look, can you come here or not?”

Kimberly rubbed her neck nervously, unsure if it was a good idea to follow through with Carly’s demand. That said, she worked for the police and could rat on her if things went tits up between them in spite of their understand of one another. Kimberly glanced sideways at Ivy staring at the packaged dumbbells rested next to the protein product stand.

“Fine, I’ll be there. Just...not alone.” Kimberly ended the call, grabbing the book and placed it in the basket before whistling to get Ivy’s attention. “Come on Thightanic, let’s go meet a friend of mine.”

Ivy raised a brow in curiosity.

[Amnoartist]

A new horror-themed series for you folks to maybe enjoy over here. I'll be updating it on a regular (likely monthly) basis here and at Deviantart where the above four opening chapters were pasted from. Let me know your thoughts, folks

[Amnoartist]

Beneath Her Flesh
Written & edited by Amnoartist
Chapter V

Her eyes stinging from a migraine, Carly pulled at the door handle with the clear indications of struggle and weakness; her arms barely had any strength left in them nor could she find the mental willpower to remember how to open the door without assistance from the raven-haired silhouette on the other side. When the door did finally open, Carly’s eyes squinted in their attempt to recognize the person—no, people before her. Then the familiar, though muffled, voice brought a faint smile to the detective’s face.

“Jesus Carly, how much did you take? I told you: use moderately, especially with that stronger dose.” Kimberly looked at Carly’s eyes intently; dilated to the point where there was more pupil than iris. Kimberly was hesitant to let Carly take more of her ‘meds,’ even though she was her best customer, even though she was her girlfriend. Kimberly cared for Carly enough to know it was best for her to come off the high she was already in. The brunette flashed the pills kept in a small polythene bag. “Think I’ll hold onto these for a bit. At least until you calm down.”

“Just one, to keep me going. I’m caring after Jodie here while my Dad and Wendy are out.” Carly rubbed her temple hiding her distress. She really didn’t want to argue right now, just needed the pills to keep her going for a bit longer. She wasn’t a junkie. Far from it, actually. At least, that’s what Carly kept telling herself to feel good about using the pills.

The news that Carly was looking after Jodie in her present state only reinforced Kimberly’s preference to holding the pills back. But Kimberly didn’t want to risk the relationship they had. It was the first proper relationship Kimberly ever had and it made her feel alive. Sighing, she opened the bag and handed Carly a single pill, who snatched it like a vulture would its prey.

“Who’s this chunk of meat?” Carly’s neck craned upwards to meet Ivy’s eyes staring back down. It was clear from her expression alone Ivy was uncertain of what to make of the rattling blonde before her. Before arriving at her home, Ivy was informed of Carly’s profession as a police detective—more suitably, of course, one in training—but wasn’t sure what to make of Kimberly’s claim Carly upheld the law given her questionable addiction.

“Oh, this?” Kimberly turned to Ivy, realizing she was yet to get used to her presence. Still getting used to the fact she had a sister. Ivy’s breaths were gentle yet her chest muscles heaved and expanded with each inhale, pressing against the fabric of her jacket, striated quads wide as Kimberly’s waist squeezed into store bought black denims. “This is my sister, Ivy.”

“Sister?” Carly shot Kimberly a confused glance. “I had no idea you had one.”

“Neither did I. One of those ‘long-lost sibling now found’ cases, I guess.” Kimberly reached up and squeeze Ivy’s bicep for effect. It was the first time she’d done that, so was understandably surprised by not just the fact her handspan could barely cover the circumference of the fair-haired girl’s arm, but its rigidity as well; rock-hard. Kimberly smiled. “Hard as rock, tall as a mountain. Doesn’t say much though.”

“Uh-huh. Probably eats you out of house and home too.” Carly kept up with her examination of Ivy, even in her questionable state of lucidity. How could Kimberly have such a contrasting sibling? Ivy had to, at best, be more a half-sister than a full one. There was no way both girls were fully related as Kimberly presumed. Or perhaps she just wanted Ivy to be a real sister so that sense of belonging she craved could finally be felt. “I wouldn’t be remiss to think she’s hungry now, would I?”

“Actually, since you bring it up—”

Carly scoffed then smiled as she moved to the side to invite the girls in. “Make yourself at home.”

The faint squeals and approaching excited running from her sister Jodie forced Carly to ingest the pill in secret before she arrived at her side. Jodie had met Kimberly before was utterly mesmerized by the tall and large stranger with her. Ivy was like one of the giants from the children’s books Carly often read to her at night.

“Jodie.” Carly pulled her sister over to her side and knelt down “You remember Kimberly, don’t you? This is her sister, Ivy.”

Ivy smiled down at Jodie and waved gently, then mirrored Carly, kneeling down on one knee. Kimberly was surprised by her sister’s interaction with the small child, noticing Jodie’s hearing aid.

Kimberly froze when she saw what Ivy did next. Using sign language to communicate with Jodie, who offered the brightest smile seen in months. It was one thing for a family member to communicate with Jodie, but something altogether different when someone else did. Especially in a place like Black Peak.

‘Hello Jodie. My name’s Ivy. Tell me. Do you like chocolate?’

Jodie nodded eagerly.

Ivy pulled out a chocolate bar Kimberly bought earlier that day. Ivy held the chocolate bar in her hand tightly, although making sure not to use so much pressure that it would break in her grip. Watching Jodie’s smile grow as the confectionery was handed to her. Ivy went back to signing with a smile.

Jodie looked at Carly with a smile, who, like Kimberly, was surprised by Ivy’s knowledge of Sign language.

“Did you know she could do that?” Carly asked, moving up to Kimberly’s side.

“Nope,” Kimberly responded, listening to Jodie’s little giggles. “But I’m happy she can.”

***

Aldus shook the umbrella protecting him and Wendy from the rain as they pushed through the hotel’s revolving doors, leading into its spacious lounge area, at the back of which was the main desk headed by a man and woman of Eastern Asian origin. To Aldus the two employees both looked the same but the man hailed from Japan, the woman from South Korea.

Wendy looped her hand through her father’s arm and smiled at the Queen’s Point’s luxuriousness. Aldus had truly outdone himself yet again! He was eager to impress the love of his life and had more than succeeded in that endeavor. By Black Peak’s standards the Queen’s Point was one of the most expensive hotels. Since their last visit all those years ago, in which Jodie was conceived, the hotel had changed hands, been renovated and had its prices inflated, so how Aldus had managed to pay for a single night there was a question that danced in Wendy’s mind just long enough for it to pique her interest.

She cupped her belly with a smile as her babies kicked again. Aldus was happy enough to have another child with his daughter, yet she was convinced he knocked her up with twins this time. Wendy had never been so persistent with that particular claim as any beforehand, so Aldus accepted her assertion as fact. They moved up to the main desk together and approached the Japanese man.

“Hello, we’ve booked a room for the night. Should be under the name Walford.” Aldus stood as the receptionist, Hideo, filtered through the hotel’s database for the name to pop up. Whilst waiting, he couldn’t stop himself from noticing the stark age difference between Aldus and Wendy; he was at least twenty years her senior. After noticing Wendy’s pregnancy, it didn’t take Hideo long to figure out who the two roomers were to one another, yet didn’t act on the fact. Black Peak was a cesspool of immorality; if Wendy and Aldus weren’t doing it, someone else out there probably was.

In defiance of his evident discomfort, Hideo made light of the fact brought to his attention, watching Aldus stealthily place his hand on Wendy’s muscular rump. “When are they due?”

Wendy chuckled, rubbing her belly. She loved it when other people complimented her pregnancy and was sometimes desperate to tell them it was her own father who made her that way. Twice over. “Oh, not for a while. A few more months in the oven yet I reckon.”

Hideo stared at Wendy’s thick forearm, repulsed by the swathe of veins covering it from shoulder to wrist, equally taken aback by the baseball-sized biceps casually jutting from her frame as she stood in wait with her father. Hideo may have figured out Wendy was in an incestuous relationship with her father, but was clueless to the fact she was brainwashed by him into becoming his vision of the perfect woman; a muscular freak who was more than happy to bear his children.

Hideo handed Aldus the keycard to the room they were staying in, too weirded out by what he had managed to figure out to say anything welcoming to the couple. Aldus looked at the card. Room two hundred and three - the same as last time. It was like fate.

As they made their way to the elevator, a hooded figure appeared from beyond the revolving doors.

***

Aldus opened his suitcase and examined its contents carefully. Clothes - check; money - check; syringe - check; steroids - check; Viagra - check. Everything was in order. He smiled lewdly, craning his head to the left at the door that led into the en-suite bathroom, behind which water hissed and steam rolled underneath. Wendy was preparing herself, as was Aldus who opened the small polythene bag containing the Viagra and swallowed them quickly. Despite not being as young as he used to, Aldus still performed when necessary; the pills were really used just to give him an extra boost.

Unbuckling his belt, Aldus mentally prepared himself for what was to come. He didn’t see his relations with Wendy as immoral, rather the opposite. He didn’t beat her into loving him, nor had he raped her. All that had led to this moment was planned, literally years in the making, just like before. Admittedly, he was getting hard at the thought, the thrill of knowing what was to come. He fought the urge to tease himself with a single stroke, looking at the time on the clock tick away to keep himself distracted.

Aldus hadn’t noticed the shower stopped a short moment ago from being distracted, and so didn’t hear the bathroom door creak open. Wendy stood at the threshold naked, smiling at her father’s obliviousness as he peered through the window at the rain that just didn’t seem to let up. Then he felt the silence, turning to face his expectant daughter with a perverse grin.

First, he looked at her mound, hairy and bloated from months—no, years of hormone abuse on his account. How he couldn’t wait to stick his throbbing meat inside it once again. Then, after a moment of envisioning what would happen next, he turned his attention to Wendy’s naked belly, when his erection truly went into overdrive. Well-rounded from pregnancy induced by the many instances of their depraved relations, Wendy cupped her belly with a gin equally perverted as her father’s. It wasn’t enough for Aldus that Wendy had been impregnated by him, but he wanted to fuck her in her delicate condition too. And she was more than willing to let that happen.

Wendy shuffled up to the bed and lay on it flat on her back, waiting eagerly for her father to take up position between her spread, trunky legs. Staring at the rotating fan on the ceiling, she let out the slightest moan of lust as Aldus entered her, gripping her by the wrists for support. She had grown thicker over the last couple of days since they last fucked, since the last hormone injection. So taking the Viagra was more than worth it.

Wendy stared into her father’s eyes as he moved in deeper, his elbows jolting with the thrust, his hip slapping against her pregnancy. It was like music to their ears. She had longed to hear them again; the slaps and grunts from her father as he penetrated her deeper and deeper, biting her lips in ecstasy until they bled.

As the clock struck nine, Aldus grunted in sync with his next thrust. Wendy groaned as she looked down to see the outline of her father’s cock bulge within her then slowly recede as he made way for his next push, his legs buckling as they pushed against the bed, his feet shuffling. Arching her body upwards, Wendy pressed her palms against the headboard, the strength in her arms causing it to split and crack.

A roll of thunder came with Aldus’s next push, shifting his weight slightly to allow more of his blood-pumped cock to enter Wendy, who enticed him further with a double bicep flex. Despite her father holding her down, she managed to pull herself up and kiss him passionately on the lips, grabbing him by the back of the head. Their tongues danced in a burst of saliva and passion, and before he managed to hold it back, Aldus shuddered as he ejaculated into Wendy, the added pressure from the pills allowing more bodily fluid than normal to soak the young woman more than usual. It flowed into and burst over her V-taper, giving it a white glossy shine.

Aldus pulled out gently, his cock still throbbing despite what just transpired. Wendy could feel his cum casually ooze from her vagina and stain the bedsheets yet was more captivated by the fact her father’s erection remained intact. She had to take advantage of it, kneeling on both knees and taking his cock in her hand. Aldus simply watched with a smile.

He’d trained Wendy so well.

She flicked his cock only the once, watching its sticky thickness bob up and down before brazenly taking it in her mouth. She gagged, coughed and spluttered drool down Aldus’s shaft in her attempt to suck him off, her pregnant belly jolting up and down, rubbing against her knees with each stroke.

But the moment wasn’t to last.

A sudden knock at the door forced Wendy and Aldus to stop their passionate moment. Wendy hurried to her feet and wrapped the bedsheets around her while Aldus pulled his underwear back over his waist. Equal parts panicky and angry, he shuffled over to the door and looked through the peephole to find nobody there. All he could see was the door that led to the room opposite them and two partitions of wall flanking it.

“There’s nobody there. Probably some kid messing around.” Aldus checked again - still nothing.

“Come back to bed, I’m still horny. I’ll let you go down on me.” The arousal in Wendy’s voice was unmistakable, getting Aldus’s attention, who turned to Wendy with renewed eagerness, grabbing the waistband of his underwear.

But the moment was cut short as a knife cut through the door’s paneling like butter, the blade puncturing Aldus’s hip. The knife stuck in his flesh, he screamed in anguish as he fell to the floor flat on his back, before, despite the stinging pain, mustering the strength to crawl away. Wendy screamed next, terrified most not by her father’s injury but the gloved fist violently punching through the door, taking away large chunks with each strike.

As the door came off its hinges and fell merely inches from Aldus’s feet, the hooded attacker entered the room, calmly observing the father’s vain attempt to come to his daughter’s side. That was when Aldus noticed his attacker’s mask; a crude thing made of metal that weathered over time, with scratches and two holes for eyes, and even then they couldn’t be seen from the deep darkness that hid them.

Wendy noticed something else about their attacker; they were large, only just managed to get through the space that led into the room, their breathing from the mask an unnatural sound, no doubt synthesized by the small contraption on their neck that flashed blue and red.

“This belongs to me.” The attacker’s voice was neither male nor female, blanketed in secrecy by the device Wendy noticed, though when they talked the flashing changed to a snowy white hue. The attacker approached Aldus slowly, their legs at either side of his, noticing the knife jutting from his hip. Without so much as a warning it was pulled from his flesh, giving rise to another scream of anguish.

“What do you want!” Aldus screamed.

Wendy’s panic heightened when the attacker noticed her pregnant belly and brought the knife to her navel. Their breathing had quickened then, not in a way that suggested arousal, rather something else. Perhaps even anger. Wendy watched the masked villain glance over at Aldus then turned back to her, as though they had made a connection.

“He has already put his seed in you?”

Wendy looked away in defiant silence. But that was what betrayed her.

“Get your hands away from her!” Aldus shouted in protest.

The attacker merely laughed at his retort. Aldus wouldn’t do much to protect his daughter, especially if he just sat there like he did, pissing his pants in fear. The attacker squatted so Aldus’s eyes met the holes of their mask. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

The tension was put on hold when the attacker picked up the rushing steps coming from the hallway. They tightened their grip on the knife and threw it in sync with the arrival of the security guard with such force his body flew backwards and was pinned to the door on the opposite side, his guts casually spilling out and drooping at his knees a few seconds later.

Wendy started sobbing.

The masked stranger scoffed. “You, crying? After what you’ve been doing with your own father? You’re as absurd as each other. Made for each other, even. But then..” They looked at Wendy belly’s again, running the blunt edge of their blade across it. “…we all know that.”

Repulsed by the aggressor’s thinly-veiled threat, Aldus mustered the willpower to jab them in the rib, bu they didn’t even budge. Instead, they just turned to stare at him dead in the eye. Aldus would’ve done the same, had there been an eye to look at, not the endless blackness that was substituted in its absence.

“I’m sure your daughter can appreciate your act of bravado for her, Mister Walford.” The masked slasher sensed Aldus’s shock. How did they know his surname? Who were they? “But there’s nothing admirable about what you’ve been doing with her.”

Aldus met darkness as the attacker offered a forceful butt to his head, knocking it back with a quick jolt so it struck the bedside drawer. Wendy shrieked again. Between his initial stab wound and now the cut at the back of his head, Aldus was in need of serious medical help.

Before throwing Aldus over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the attacker ripped the corded phone out the wall and carelessly tossed it aside. Their retreating steps were loud, even on the carpet they walked. Stopping suddenly, the attacker slowly turned back to Wendy then offered a glance at her naked belly.

“Hopefully the experience wasn’t too distressing, Wendy. Wouldn’t want to put too much stress on the oven, would we?”

Before finally walking off, the attacker pried their knife from the security guard’s corpse and watched it drop to the floor into the puddle of his own blood.

Scrunching into a fetal position, Wendy buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.

She needed Carly.

A line of security guards had already formed at the bottom of the stairs, guns at the ready. The police had been contacted beforehand just in case, but the number of guards lined up to take on the attacker ought to be more than enough.

Coming to the bottom of the stairs, the attacker examined the security guards’ expression carefully; a mix of confidence, anger, insecurity and fear - all of which their target fed on.

“Put the man down.” The head security officer came between his colleagues and the intruder, hoping to resolve the issue without bloodshed. He looked at them in a way that best concealed his otherwise obvious fear. It was the mask that haunted him the most, not the large muscular frame underneath the equally plaguing clothing; a mix of black and grey.

“I dunno, he’s rather important to me.” The masked villain could see the security guards weren’t in any way phased by their claim. Not that it mattered. “Like one of my five-a-day.”

Silence.

“Oh, fine.” The attacker tossed Aldus over their shoulder, listening to his unconscious form thud against the steps, though it remained within his abductor’s reach, who shrugged in eagerness, as if readying for something.

“Have it your way.”

[seldom]

Interesting! I would love to read more.