Frenzied

First published in Great Britain by Claire Chilton 2013

This edition published by Ragz Books 2013

Copyright © 2013 by Claire Chilton

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, and the United Kingdom Copyright Act of 1956 and 1988. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

Published in the United States by Ragz Books

Edited by Nicole LeClercq and Ragz Books

Illustration by Claire Chilton

www.claire-chilton.com

What the hell is that smell?

She forced one eye open and gasped at the sharp pain that spiked through her skull.

Shit, how much did I drink last night?

As she cradled her head, she tried to recall the night before. She frowned. Her mind was blank—There were no memories at all.

Her neck ached, so she rubbed the back of it while trying to concentrate on what she could remember. She knew how to make blueberry muffins. She knew the calculation for pi and how to screw in a light bulb, but she had no memory of how she knew that or who she was.

What the hell happened to me?

She shifted uncomfortably and arched her back. Her eyes snapped open when she felt velvet under her fingertips. She glanced down at the ageing cinema seat in disbelief.

Did I fall asleep during a movie?

She stared ahead at the cinema screen, wondering if that was what her mind looked like right now; a blank white screen with a dull light glowing behind it.

She frowned, looking around and examining her surroundings. The cinema appeared to be a theatre that still had the gods above her and gilded box seats on balconies at each side of the room.

She scanned the room for other people, but there was no one else in the large theatre.

“Hello?” She didn’t expect an answer, but the echo of her voice in the silent room made her shiver.

This is beyond creepy.
She shrank into her chair.

Okay, get up and go home, wherever the hell that is.

She tried to shake off the irrational fear, but the air was heavy with doom. Something wasn’t right.

Yeah, you woke up with amnesia in a bloody cinema!

She shook her head at the insanity of her situation, wincing when an ache throbbed through her skull. She touched her forehead to rub it away, but yelped when fiery pain burned through her skin as her fingers touched her head.
What the hell?

There was a sticky wet substance on her fingers. Her eyes widened when she saw blood on them.

Did I get knocked out during the movie?

She searched the pockets of her denim skirt, looking for clues. After some routing around, she found a credit-card sized wallet in her left pocket. She flipped it open and stared at the driver’s license inside. Under a small photograph of a scowling, blonde teenage girl was the name Lucy Carlton. She read her date of birth before glancing at the date on her cinema ticket.

I’m eighteen. Well, assuming this is my purse, and I’m not some kind of pick pocket.

She glanced back at the photograph, hoping it was a bad photo because the girl in the picture looked like a miserable cow.

With no idea of where she was or who she was, everything seemed horrifying. The silence was cloying.

I need to get out of here.

Lucy shoved the small purse back into her pocket and jumped up out of her seat, pausing when a wave of dizziness hit her. She gripped the arm of the uncomfortable cinema seat and groaned as pins and needles shot down her back and legs.

How long have I been in that seat for?

She clenched her hands into fists as an irrational wave of anger filled her, and she saw red. She inhaled slowly with her eyes closed while clenching her toes inside her boots to try to get some feeling back into them.

It’s okay. I just need to get to the bathroom and see what state I’m in.

The rage faded away, but it was rapidly replaced by fear, so she blocked out as many thoughts as she could about what had happened to her. Something bad had happened, but worrying over what it was would only make it worse. Holding onto the back of the seats, she made her way down the aisle towards the exit. Her steps were silent on the thick red carpet as she approached the sunken staircase that led out of the theatre.

The echo of her boots clipping on the hard tiles of the staircase made her wince, setting off the spikes of pain again. She glanced down at the grey tiled floor and froze.

Red splatters of blood dotted the tiles, leading to a large dark puddle of it that was seeping under the door.

Shivers of fear shot down her spine.

What the hell happened here? Why can’t I remember?

She didn’t want to open the door, but she knew she had to if she wanted to get out of here. She stared at the long brass handle. A bloody handprint was smeared across the ‘Push’ sign.

She couldn’t look away from the handprint as shock trembled through her body.

Did I end up starring in a horror movie?

She shook her head, biting back the urge to scream.

Think, think. What would a sane person do?

Call the police.

With trembling hands, she felt the side pocket of her denim skirt, hoping to find a mobile phone in it, but it only contained her purse. She searched the other pocket, nothing there either.

Come on, come on. What girl doesn’t have a mobile phone?

She searched the back pockets of the skirt and sighed when she felt a solid block in the left one. She pulled out the phone and stared at it. It had a red cover on it, and the screen saver said, ‘Bite Me’.

Yep, that’s probably mine.

She didn’t recognize the phone, but it seemed like her kind of phone.

She swiped the screen to unlock it and dialed the emergency number. The phone crackled, but there was no ring tone. She waved the phone around in different directions.

Come on, get a reception, you stupid thing. This is an emergency.

After the watching the ‘no network available’ symbol for a while, she felt a bubble of panic grow in the back of her throat.
Why isn’t it working?

She wondered if the phone reception was bad inside the theater. The screen flashed the words ‘low battery’ before the screen went black.

I guess I’m not the kind of person who remembers to charge their phone.

She tried to turn it back on. It flickered before shutting down again.
Crap.

Maybe I just need to get out of here.

She glanced back at the bloody door and grimaced, wondering what was on the other side of it.

Just do it.

Dropping the phone into her skirt pocket and gritting her teeth, she reached for an un-bloodied area of the door and gave it a push. The door opened an inch before it thumped against something heavy and swung back to closed.
Oh fuck!

She nudged the door and tried to peer through the crack but couldn’t see much, just the alcove of the theatre entrance and a red leather chair in the main foyer.

Screw it.

She pushed into the door, using all of her strength to try to force it open. The door budged a few more inches. She slammed herself into the barrier, using all her weight to try to wedge the door open wider while straining to push it as hard as she could.

Come on, you son of bitch. Let me out of here!

The door eventually shifted, and then rapidly swung open, causing her to lose her balance and fall through it onto the floor with a crash.

She landed on something squashy and groaned, grateful for the soft landing until she glanced down.

The dead blue eyes of an usher stared up at her.

Her eyes travelled over the rest of him. His neck was twisted at an odd angle, his chest a ripped-open, bloody mess. She screamed, scrambling off his body and through the doors into the foyer.

Kneeling on the floor in the usher’s blood, she refused to look at him. She kept her back to him in an attempt to avoid staring into the face of death again. Her muscles trembled all over her body, and she fought to keep some semblance of control.

Calm down, get out of here and call the police.

With shaking hands, she pushed herself up until she was standing, trying not to think about the blood that was dripping down her legs and into her tan leather boots. She faced forward, looking for the exit, but the sight before her was too much to bear. She fell to her knees again and stared at the carnage ahead.