ss/The-Scraps-of-Stephanie — The TerrorScene

The Scraps Of Stephanie

If anyone finds this, please... help me! Help me!

My name is Stephanie Blare and I was with my friends Tommy Wake and Jenny Foreman.

We were attacked and now I don't know where I am or how long I've been here.

I don't remember.

Please, someone help! I've been in this room for what feels like weeks, almost like a cell. They shove food under the door but it's never much. I don't even know who they are. I always feel tired, I think they're drugging the food, but I'm so hungry.

If anyone reads this, help me!

HELP US!

What is this?

They keep shoving these little pieces of paper under the door with a pen.

Maybe I was naïve to think anyone would ever read what I'm writing. It's like they want me to write things, but no one ever says anything. I never see anyone. There's just this room. This tiny room. A nasty cot in the corner. A bucket. That's it.

I'm tired.

What the hell is this?

What did I do?

Who are these people?

Why am I even writing at all?

I heard screaming today. It sounded like Jenny.

What the fuck are they doing to her?! Those pieces of shit!

Somebody help us!

I'm going to kill them! Every one of them! Whoever they are!

I tried beating on the walls, the door. I screamed until my throat was raw.

Pointless. No one is coming.

I think I heard Jenny scream again. Not as loud. Weaker sounding. I don't know what they're doing.

I barely ate any of the food. My stomach hurts and my head is always swimming. I still haven't seen or heard anything other than Jenny's terrified screams. I'm angry and scared and want to vomit.

My clothes stink. A new skirt. Seems hilariously pointless now. I laughed thinking about it earlier until I cried.

Bought it to make Tommy look at me.

I haven't heard anything today. No screams.

Is she dead? Or has she given up?

Still haven't seen anyone.

I ate all the food they gave, but then threw it all back up in the bucket.

It stinks in here. My hair is matted with sweat and dirt and I have long since cried any makeup out of my eyes. I know I must look like shit.

My t-shirt is torn but I don't remember doing that.

Are they coming in here when I pass out?

Who the fuck are they?

The food is getting worse. It's uncooked sometimes, some kind of slop. It's disgusting. I threw up twice. It smells so fucking bad in here.

Why am I still fucking writing?

There was a man in the room when I woke up.

I screamed when I saw him, but he didn't move, so I almost thought he was a statue or a mannequin.

He blinked though. Just stared at me.

I lunged at him but he just slapped me away like a gnat. I swore at him. I spit on him. He never moved. I don't know what he wants. I asked him why me. He never said anything, just stared with those cold gray eyes. He stared at me until I eventually passed out again, and he was gone when I woke up.

Did I even see anyone?

Another slip of paper.

What are they doing?

I heard muffled cries earlier. Jenny. I began to smile in relief but that made me feel like shit because she was still being hurt.

Also because... where was Tommy?

I hadn't heard anything.

Did they kill him?

I hate them. HATE them. My head always pounds and my stomach hurts, but it's all background noise now.

I HATE them.

Mr. Statue was in the room again. I tried to attack him with the pen, but he swatted me away again with ease. I'm too fucking weak. I'm too hungry.

Is he the only one doing this? I keep thinking “them” because it makes more sense I guess...

They're keeping me weak so I don't fight back.

My panties were torn when I woke up, too.

I threw up thinking about what that meant.

Fuck this!

Fuck you, Mr. Statue! Burn in hell! I'm not playing your fucking games!

Help me help me please anyone help me God help me help me help me please please help me help me help me oh God please please help me

I tried to kill myself today.

I tried to put the pen into my throat.

They must be watching me because another man came into the room, knocked the pen out of my hand, and began beating me.

He grinned the whole fucking time.

I hurt everywhere. I feel like I have rashes everywhere. My skin crawls constantly. I stink so bad. My clothes are barely clothes anymore, all tattered and filthy.

That bastard grinned the WHOLE FUCKING TIME!

They didn't even wait until I passed out this time.

Mr. Statue stood there, staring, as Mr. Grin held me down. He didn't really even need to, as weak as I was. I could barely spit in his face.

When he was done and they left, I cried. I screamed. I tore the tatters of my clothes off and ripped them to pieces, cursing God and them and everyone who wouldn't help me. Then I just gave up and sat in the corner.

I miss you mommy, dad, grandma, pappy, Tommy, Jenny, Todd, Jess...

I can barely see, my eyes hurt.

This is the first piece of paper in I don't know how long. The first time I woke with no paper, it felt odd. The next time, I cried. I don't know why. This is my only voice here. The only thing that matters. I thought it was gone.

Mr. Statue and Mr. Grin haven't been back. They keep shoving the pig slop under the door, but it's getting less and less.

My ripped up clothes I tried in vain to put back on, but gave that up and they're now just sitting in a pile in the corner. I'm getting used to the stench, but my skin still itches and my stomach hurts.

Does it even matter if I pray for help?

I saw Tommy today.

He was smiling and dancing outside.

I danced with him. I love Tommy.

Tommy and Stephie sittin' in a tree,

K – I – S – S – I – N – G

We had our honeymoon last night. He bought me flowers. We made love among the petals.

K – I – S – S – I – N – G

We're gonna have a baby! His name is Grin!

Tommy loves me, we dance all the time!

Where am I?

What is this?

Who the fuck ripped up my clothes?!

Fuck you, Tommy!

bread
peanut butter
cereal
cream cheese
chips
chicken tenders (buffalo or bbq)
shredded cheese
taco seasoning
toothpaste
deodorant
shampoo
blue hair dye
smokes

Dear Santa,

I tried really a lot this year to be good. I only yelled at my brother like one or none times. So can I have a new daddy? Please. My old daddy is mean. He yells a lot. A new daddy is all I want for Christmas.

Love and cookies,

Stephie Blare

I don't know what I've been writing or anything. I don't remember and they always take the papers I write on away.

I haven't seen Mr. Statue or Mr. Grin in a long time, but I think...

Did they wash me?

I'm clean now. And the room doesn't stink. And my clothes are clean and not ripped up.

Weren't they ripped up?

I can't remember.

I haven't heard any other noises.

Aren't I supposed to?

I feel strange...

I miss Mr. Statue and Mr. Grin.

Mr. Grin was in the room today. He held up a strange looking piece of raw meat. I was so hungry, but it looked wrong.

When I didn't eat it, he beat me until I passed out.

The last thing I remember was that grin, ear to ear.

He was gone when I woke up.

I'm so hungry. Why did I say no?

Something wrong about it...

They were both in the room again. Mr. Statue in the corner, staring as usual, Mr. Grin smiling at me.

He had another chunk of bloody meat.

I was so hungry. I ate it. It tasted odd, unlike anything I had ever tasted. But I was hungry and it felt good in my mouth and my stomach.

Mr. Grin kissed me on the forehead and left.

Mr. Statue stared at me while I ate the raw meat.

Another long stretch with no paper. But they're taking care of me now, feeding me, cleaning me. I feel good and am always really happy when Mr. Grin brings me more special food.

I haven't seen Mr. Statue this whole time, though.

I wonder where he is?

Mr. Grin showed me a secret today.

He came in dragging a small, dirty woman. He threw her on the floor at my feet.

She started crying. She looked around as if lost.

Something about her made something in the back of my head feel strange, but whatever it was immediately was replaced by what Mr. Grin held up.

A chunk of that delicious meat.

He pointed at her, then nodded at the meat.

The woman looked up at me, her eyes widening. She said something but I don't remember what it was.

By that time I was already drooling.

She screamed and cried as I tore into her. She begged and kicked and scratched but I was hungry and soon she stopped moving.

Mr. Grin seemed so happy.

I am stronger now.

They let me wash myself, clothe myself. They feed me.

I've never been this happy.

This piece of paper just got shoved under the door. They are getting less frequent, but I don't mind. Mr. Grin brings me food, caresses me, sleeps with me.

I am happy.

I ask about the woman, if there is more. He tells me there is. So many. He grins and nods.

That makes me smile as well.

It excites me.

Mr. Statue was here again, after so long. I hugged and kissed him. He didn't move, but I knew he wouldn't.

Mr. Grin told me I was almost ready.

I told him I was hungry.

He grinned, wide as ever, and nodded.

Mr. Statue and Mr. Grin were here again. Mr. Grin caressed my cheek and I kissed his hand.

He held up a small piece of meat and I inhaled it instantly.

I stared at him and begged for more.

He told me soon. Then they left.

I don't know what he means, but I'm excited.

And hungry.

I love Mr. Grin.

Where are you, Mr. Grin?

I miss you.

Come back.

Bring me food.

Lovely, glistening flesh.

Where are you?

They opened the door today.

They're letting me go.

I will never forget you, Mr. Grin.

Nor you, Mr. Statue.

But this is the last page I will ever write.

My name is Stephanie Blare.

And I am starving.

theterrorscene@gmail.com