Carter reached into the trashcan, searching for food. He didn't care what it tasted like or what condition it was in; he just wanted something to ease the empty throbbing in his stomach. His whole body was racked with pain and he wanted at least one part of his body not to hurt. He was standing under a graffiti-covered bridge while the rain hammered outside. While he didn't make a smile or even a grunt, he was relieved to find a half-eaten hotdog. He walked outside and sat on a bench, gorging himself on the ratty food. He leaned back, letting the rain wash away the dark bloodstains in his clothes.
Carter was in his early twenties, had medium-length matted hair, and a shady beginning of a beard from days of not shaving. He had a sickly complexion and sunken bloodshot eyes. His build was more muscle than fat, but that was due mostly to how little he ate. He was a man between life and death, with his body leaning towards the latter and his soul so hollow that it might as well be the same. His mind was even less healthy, and his actions in the past would prove that, along with the actions of the near future.
His life had been a tragedy, marked by disease and death. Little could be said about his personality, there wasn't much to describe. His emotions were gone, he had no tastes in music or art, and a path down memory lane didn't exactly bring up any happy stories. The person formerly known as Carter Locke was gone, his identity was gone, and pain and insanity had taken everything away. All that was left was agony. It was all he felt and it was his identity. Pain was all that remained of what was left of his life, and soon more people would feel his pain.
Eleanor Rose was sitting in her dorm room, watching the news on TV. Her eyes were filled with fear and her hands were over her mouth. The story of the evening was a very grim one: another campus massacre had taken place, the fifth in a brutal chain. The story was the same in each case: a stranger enters a campus house party, pulls out some sort of machete-like weapon, and begins slaughtering everyone. Over a hundred people had been murdered so far, with the killer still on the loose.
Eleanor was nineteen and was in both the prime of her youth and beauty. She had pale skin that looked like marble, bright blue eyes that seemed to glow, and long straight hair that was darker than granite. She was also gifted with the figure of a ballerina, but with a fuller chest. Regardless of her physical beauty, she always hid her body with very bland or dark clothes and multiple layers whenever possible. She had always been a shy girl, always lonely but wanting to be alone, brought on by life with parents that couldn't care less. The only reason why she was in college was because she managed to get a scholarship. She considered herself lucky that alcohol didn't run through her family, or abuse would have occupied most of her life: physical, psychological, and even sexual.
She had very few friends, and even fewer close friends. She had spent her middle and high school years wishing she could join a clique, but was never happy when she tried or was even in one. She had never been in love, never been where she felt she belonged, never gotten involved in anything, and never even been happy.
The door suddenly opened and her roommate Anna stepped in. The blonde beauty had a heart that was the same shade as her hair, but she also had a pussy stretched by over a dozen frat boys. Ever since the two had met, Anna had taken it upon herself to pull Eleanor out of her shell.
"What are you doing? There is a party down the road with your name on it!" she said with excitement, checking her hair in the mirror for the umpteenth time.
"I'm not going."
"What, are you listening to those media horror stories? Come on, there is no chance of that maniac heading our way. Listen, you make excuses every time. If you go out now, you're curse will be lifted!"
"Listen, I just don't want to go. That killer out there should be reason enough."
"Well what are you going to do? Sit in the dark and feel bad for yourself? You're always saying that you wish you had someone to talk to, well how are you supposed to find someone like that if you always choose to be alone?"
Eleanor was silent.
"Listen, just come this time, try and talk to people, and if you aren't happy after ten minutes, we'll both come back."
"Come on, honey. You REALLY need a drink," Anna said with a smile as she pulled Eleanor out into the hall. As Eleanor followed her unwanted life coach to the stairwell, she tugged on her sleeves, making sure that the scars on her wrists were covered.
Loud music bounced off the walls of the house and was quickly distorted by the conversations of the drunken college kids. Eleanor stood by the staircase, desperate to have someone to talk too, but too shy and nervous to actually say something to someone. Across the room, Anna was flirting with a buzzed football player.
Carter was standing across the street from the house, nearly invisible with his body hidden behind a small tree.
'Kill them all, ' a voice hissed in his mind.
'Slaughter them, ' Another voice ordered.
"I know," Carter muttered.
'Make them pay, ' a third voice said.
"Shut up, just shut up!" Carter swore, trying to keep his voice down.
'They all deserve to die!' The first voice roared. While the sound was all in his head, he instinctively tried to cover his ears and block it out.
"I will end their lives. I will make them pay for the crimes they have and will commit. Just be silent and stay out of my way."
His tone so cold and harsh that his breath was almost turning to fog in front of his face. When the voices in his mind didn't reply, he took a deep breath and stepped forward, making his way towards the house.
A knock thumped from the front door, but it was barely heard over the garbled noise of the party. The drunken hostess staggered over to the front door and wrenched it open. Her open cleavage was soaked with beer, most of which from the plastic cup that she was swinging around.
"Hey, come on in! Beer's in the kitchen and pussy is in the bedroom!" she laughed.
The figure standing at the door slowly raised his head, glaring at her with sunken bloodshot eyes. "You are guilty."
As fast as lightning, he reached into a sheath hidden in his overcoat and drew a strip of rusty steel, honed into an amateur sword with only a layer of fabric as the handle. The blade was jagged and serrated, but that was only a mistake in the attempted creation of an edge. Before the girl could even realize what he was holding, he lashed out and stabbed her in the gut, piercing her through. The rusty edge burst out of her back with blood oozing from the jagged points that ran up the edge. As he pulled the blade free, a woman spotted the dead hostess fall to her knees and screamed.
"You are all guilty!" Carter snarled as everyone in the vicinity turned to him.
Eleanor stared at Carter and released a trembling gasp. Even from that distance, Eleanor was able to look his eyes and see the hatred within him. Never before had she seen so much anger and pain in someone or felt so overwhelmed and crushed by its intensity. He didn't even seem to be human. She quickly ducked down to the floor, hoping she wouldn't be noticed.
The madman bolted forward, swinging his mock sword wildly and slashing at the people closest to the door. With each swing, the serrated blade would tear through flesh with ease. His second victim was another woman and he stabbed her through the chest, right through her open cleavage. He then turned around and struck a man who had come forward to see what was going on. Carter slashed him from shoulder to hip, severing almost every artery in his chest and making it so that he would bleed to death in less than a minute.
Until now, the party had been so cramped that no one could run away, but that wouldn't last for long. People were already shoving each other as they tried to get to another part of the house, and until the backdoor was used and people actually began to escape, they were all packed like sardines and completely vulnerable. Eleanor was one of them, trying to get away, but all of the frantic partiers just pinned her to the wall in their own desperation, as if she were thrown against the rocks by a raging river. She was forced to hide under a table and wait for the crowd to thin out.
By now, Carter was completely blood-drunk. The pain that racked his body had not lessened, but it was now being fought by a sensation of fulfillment. The voices that haunted his mind could not stop him, his disease could not stop him, and until his mission was complete, he would never end his path of destruction. With that sword in his hand, he had abandoned his physical form, leaving only the pain and vengeance in his heart to wreck havoc upon those he deemed guilty. He did not enjoy killing, but it was something he had to do; it was his purpose.
Moving into the crowd, he hacked, stabbed, and slashed wildly at everyone in his reach. Blood sprayed freely with each injury, soaking the walls, floor, and Carter's clothes. Bodies were falling like dominos as he worked his way through the horde. No one could even hurt him, because they were all too drunk to properly fight back. He stepped towards a couch where a couple was making out. Even with all the screams, they were completely unaware of what was going on.
"Oh shit!" the boy cursed, looking over his girlfriend's shoulder and spotting the bloody sword in Carter's hand.
.... There is more of this story ...