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Prologue
She sat in her car, wishing there was anything she could do or say to take back what had happened. She was just angry. Beth never meant to hurt Lyle, but he was so fucking good at making her angry. He knew exactly what to say to make her blood boil and the razor just found her hand. Beth had always had a temper, a short fuse if you will, and a little hostile but she never thought he would make her mad enough to do something like that. But she was wrong. Her mother would swear she couldn't hurt a fly. Beth had always secretly wondered what it would be like to kill someone. To see the light leave, as if it was supposed to. It was... The last expansions of their chest, watching the blood coagulate through the tiles. Seeping in and smearing under the weight of her hand. It was so wrong how much she really thought of it, planned even. Call it premeditated if you want, but she never thought she would kill Lyle. Her hands were shaking. It reminded her of when she was a child and her father would discipline her. It was mindless, second nature discipline. It didn't even faze her after a few days but her hands would tremble. She had this sick unsettling feeling that her dad enjoyed it as much as she dreaded it. But she pushed that thought away and just remembered how easily the razor went into his bare breast-plate. "Why would he have that old ass fucking razor anyways?” she thought as she pushed her eyes back with the balls of her thumbs. "There I go again blaming others, my victim no less." She contemplated parking beside a bridge and throwing a huge fucking rock on the gas pedal. “I don’t think Satan would welcome me in hell."




Chapter 1


I don’t know what to do. Should i call my mother? Hell no. All she would do is blame my father and send me to a rehab center thoroughly blaming my nightly pot use. But i needed someone. Someone i could tell that wouldn't rat me out... Unfortunately no such person exists. I thought it best to just leave. Leave everything that would be my demise behind. Fuck it. So i put what cash I had in my pockets in my gas tank and bought the cheapest road map my ass would get me. The guy was gross. He even belched after he was done. His skin smelled of diesel fuel and sweat. And he had about as much compassion as a sack of roofing tacks but I was desperate. He tried to hold me and I shrugged his grizzly looking arm off of me. His fucking breath made me cringe. I could have puked, but i had to leave. I got in my car and looked at the map. The repulsive man had highlighted a short route for me to follow. His grease-stained fingerprints made it hard to decipher but from what I could tell I was about a hundred miles from Boulder, so i was headed north. I turned on the radio and found nothing but hick religious stations spouting conspiracy theories on what will and won’t let you enter the magnificent splendor of heaven. I have never been religious in the slightest but this was absolute bull shit. I could feel my brain cells melt as the man preaching exaggerated his country accent and screamed about repentance and punishment, ironically in the same argument. And shit about the war that nobody really knows about. I had to turn it off. Mind numbing silence was better than that shit. I felt sick. I pulled over and just started to think to myself. I started to remind myself of who I was. What I believed in... What the fuck do i believe in? I just killed by lover... But it wasn't him. I swear to god it wasn't him. He looked horrible...terrifying. His eyes were thick masses of bloody gore. No eyes were recognizable to me. Just those eyes and those teeth...Nasty cigarette-colored ivory needles. Hundreds and hundreds of teeth. I just reacted... But something was happening to the people I saw. Something I couldn’t explain. I felt like I was going crazy. People’s faces seemed to morph into horrible images right before my eyes. I thought briefly that I was in hell. But then quickly decided it couldn’t be. Hell wouldn’t have cigarettes and pot. I just couldn’t take looking at anyone for the chance of seeing something that isn’t there and hurting someone else. But how the fuck do you tell someone that. You get put in a strait jacket for shit like that. So i have no choice but to stay on the road until I find some solution or alternative or something. Yeah, so I decided to start in Boulder, Colorado. I knew it better than Denver. I used to party in Boulder when I left West Denton. I don’t remember much except for the town. It lasts about four to five hours from border to border depending on whether my car is going to be a bitch or not.
I also decided to call my mother and come up with a wild story involving Lyle and myself getting into an argument and me taking a leap and moving to North Washington to stay with my father. She has hundreds of stories depicting him as a no-good criminal... And what did mom do? She asked god to guide my dad to a good path. So he drove to the store and bought a bigger TV. Mom was not as welcoming to the sarcastic gesture as I was. When I told Lyle, he cried laughing. He was always so despicable alongside me. Isn't it funny that I'm already referring to him in the past... I hope I don’t do that when my mother calls me back. Fuck... I really killed my fucking boyfriend. ...At first i just sat there and cried. I screamed and sobbed his name until it felt like a mechanical vice was ripping me apart. I happened to peer up into my rear view and saw Lyle covered in blood. He was sitting adjacent from me in the backseat of the car. There were droplets of blood dripping from his eyes, ears, nose and the corners of his mouth. The hole in his chest was black and purple and what seemed to be never-ending. His hands were shaking and he seemed to be trying to cry... That’s when I guess i passed out.
When i woke up i was in handcuffs and all i could hear was the sound of a police radio going off and tons off calls and numbers that i couldn’t understand. I sat up and saw the cop walking around my car, looking at my tag. Ok it was off by like two years and the insurance hasn't been updated since 82 (It currently being 1998) but what the hell, it moves." I was most likely in the police car because of the dime that was missing from my back pocket. And the bitch got my skins too. Shit! What the fuck can i do now? I have to get out of this. I have to. I can’t go to prison. I can’t forget what Lyle’s face looked like before i took his life...It horrified me. I can’t begin to imagine what the west Denver pen would be like. I had heard stories from Lyle back in his college days. Stories of not sleeping for the fear of being ganged up on. Stories of waking up to your private possessions missing. Stories of busted lips and broken ribs that made me cringe. I panic... oh shit the fucking pig is coming back. I hate cops... I always have. My Lyle and i would always laugh and make fun of them. Calling them little pigs and just not having a care... now look at me. He would be kind of disappointed. Not about my murdering him shamefully, just getting caught and put in the car.
"Ma’am can you hear me? ma’am? Hello?" As she tapped on the window like i wasn’t staring right at her. Ma’am, do you know why you’re in handcuffs? I’m guessing it’s because of the minor offence that’s going to waste a month of my life...then everything froze and the cops face started to contort and writhe within its skin... it’s like her skull was moving under her skin, and changing. Changing into something horrible. Her eyes turned red and she started to claw at her skin. It seemed to tear from her face and torso like paper. But then her screams of pain and terror turned into possessive erotic laughter. She had a dead evil look in her eyes as she purred and licked at the raw flesh on her hand and arms. I lied on my back in the police car and lunged my feet through the glass. The sound was loud and made me uneasy as the shards sprinkled the ground like painful rain. I heard the creature hit the ground so i climbed out of the car head first and saw the dismembered remains of the police officer lying beside the convulsing monster. I wondered for a minute if she had a husband…children…a life. I wondered was this even real? If I was maybe just dreaming and she was never really here. There were huge shards of glass protruding from the creatures face and neck. I was amazed that I achieved that by just kicking at a window. But I was far from arguing with the result. It was obviously bleeding out, so this was my chance. I grabbed my keys and my pot and got back in my car. I drove for about twenty miles when i got to this railroad that hadn’t been used in years and pulled over to relieve some stress. I took out the little brass tray that i bought at a head shop in pueblo. I took out my dime and rolled the best joint i think i have ever smoked. The sour sweet smoke put a wave of calm and collect over me. I just wanted to sleep but that didn’t work out the last time so i just decided to drive and find the nearest thirty dollar hotel. I got a small one bed no bathroom hut that reeked of time and dust, and slept for almost three hours. Until i heard rooms three or four doors down get raided by CSPD so i thought it would be sort of smart to just leave.
Driving on the dead roads were best because i could cry and scream at the top of my lungs about what i did and it doesn’t really fucking matter. I did this often... but i brought all my cassette tapes so the sounds of David Bowie and the Fleetwood Mack made the first hundred miles tolerable. I made a few gas stops and got propositioned but an old guy with short shorts and a small dick. He was the type to sit at nasty truck stops and try to pick up passerby’s with a “free ride”. I wasn't that desperate for the ten bucks. I also stopped at a book store in a busy type town. A lot of buildings and department stores were crowding the streets. It was fucking square city. Most of the men were walking around with slacks and sweater vests, and women with fake tits and tiny dogs. But the little book store i went into was family owned and had books you probably wouldn’t find in the biggest Barnes and Nobles. I found an old journal that had not been defiled yet and decided to finish the story with journal entries...



Chapter 2



November 6, 1998 10:08 p.m.

Today was awful, I drove like fifty miles and had to stop and piss at this convenient store. I was in this Indian store for like ten minutes and i felt violated even when i was in the bathroom all by myself. The floors hadn’t been mopped in months, and the toilet rings were black and caked with god only knows what. I bought a coke and some sweets and left as fast as i could. And not because of the Indian man. He actually turned out to be really nice. He didn’t even charge me for the coke. He did mention that I looked like death hadn’t eaten in days but at least it was generous. Two police cars pulled up in the lot so i had to get out of there. There was too much of a chance of my being wanted. I wasn't prepared to take any brave ass chances. I have learned with such people not to look at them to avoid what happened earlier. It’s hard because I enjoy studying people. Guessing what their lives must be like. I can't stop thinking about the gore... I have had nightmares for the past two nights. I don’t know why this is happening to me. I avoided it with the nice man at the store and i made it out and away from the store. And right now I’m parked in a grassy field and sleeping in my car. At least it’s not cold yet...

November 7, 1998 9:11 a.m.
I checked my map and thought that if i took a few back roads and kissed a few asses i could make it to boulder by dark. I’m counting on what i think i know. My old college professor at DSU helped me in more ways than one when i was down on my luck and on the verge of dropping out... would he think any murder is worth committing if you don’t recognize the person you once knew? That in itself is a giant understatement. I wouldn’t have believed my own name if it wasn’t for the half filled out police report i took from the police officer. Who is Beth Reynolds??? I don’t fucking know... She killed someone...i know that much. And she is on the run now...Wait, I’m on the run now... I was getting closed to the cemetery where my grandmother was buried so i thought about paying my respects, but then i remembered there was none there. She was always taking my mother’s side and putting me down as if she were any better. The men at the bar knew her name better than their own. When i passed the oversized monument I didn’t even stop to look through the gate at the marker. Her casket was laid in the very front of the land. It helped and hurt my mother but i forgot her quite easily. The pain went away like ripping off a band aid. I hate to be so insensitive about it, but that woman gave me no reason to grieve for her. In fact, even disliking her was too much work and absorbed a big fraction of my thoughts. So i "nothing" her. I can live with that...

November 7, 1998 5:34 p.m.
One of the back roads i took to get to boulder led me to this seedy motel where i saw things you wouldn’t see in snuff films. Whores on every corner and under every bridge. And near this motel it’s easier to find meth than it is to buy milk at the grocery store. I got a room and laid there for about an hour. I tossed and turned as my mind raced through the faces I would never see again. It didn’t hurt me emotionally, sadly, but it gave me a weird anxious feeling. I decided i need a fucking shower after the past few days I’ve had. When i can’t count on one hand how many peoples blood is on my cloths something has to give. I doubt i could get a refund, as shady as the host was. He looked dirtier than some of the hookers pedaling their skirts for nothing. Probably meaning that clerk has been with all of them. I went into the 12 by 12 bathroom and ran the water. The smell was like month-old wet towels. Mildew and dust filled my nose. I grabbed a big bottle of perfume and went crazy. The stuff reminded me of my father’s cologne and the fumes made my eyes burn but it was better than before. At least i had an 80 gallon hot water tank. I turned on the shower and slid off my cloths. They seemed to fall off easier than usual. I guess i was that tired. I got in and just sat down to let the water wash me physically and mentally. It almost hurt, washing off the blood of someone i used to love. But i refuse to even think about Lyle. This stupid journal is supposed to be my way out... So god...please... If you really are there...Let me out...

November 8, 1998 10:56 a.m.
Maybe i shouldn’t do it..........


November 12, 1998 12:00 p.m.
I woke up in the hospital... My arms were bandaged from wrist to elbow. A throbbing pressure runs up my arms. I can see vague pink stains slowing presenting themselves under the bandages. The throbbing intensifies. The nurse comes in and asks me if i need to talk to anyone. I still was hazy from the obvious medication they had me on. I asked the nurse why i was there, what day is it, where the fuck is my car? Etc. I learned that i was discovered two days ago and i presumably tried to cut myself up like a damn Virginia ham. "Yes ma’am i would love someone to talk to." I tried to make myself say. She held up one finger as if talking to a child. As soon as she shut the door i pulled out my I.V and threw on my cloths. I was instantly nauseated as soon as my feet hit the floor. I was dehydrated and exhausted from the drugs. I grabbed my keys and hat and ran through the Emergency room like a bat out of hell. The on duty police officer at the door was the only person i was worried about. I slowed to a quick paced walk and wished him a good afternoon and fled before he even heard on his radio that i was a patient on suicide watch that is no longer in the building bitches. I was gone. Now even closer to my first stop. From the hospital they took me to, it took me about an hour to make it to boulder. I was now in search of the professor. I had an old cell number and a P.O box address. Not much to go on. So i called DSU and asked for information on a personal note. Even posing as his daughter all they could give me was his current work address... that wasn’t helpful. I learned that he now lives in southern Texas. So i guess I’m going to Texas...

November 12, 1998 11:34 p.m.
I knew the car i was in was getting dangerously popular. I had to ditch my ride and hop a bus. I would miss my beloved Trans am but I loved my freedom more.
I caught the midnight bus back to pueblo to say goodbye to my mother. I had to come up with a good excuse to leave that she couldn't contradict. The first thing i could think of was more school. I could awkwardly and shamefully explain my ties with the professor and that i could possibly get some sort of deal for some classes to finish my masters in paranormal psychology. My mother always did say it was a "fiction, silly, waste of my precious time that i could be used to make her grandkids". Yea with Lyle…Right.

November 12, 1998 1:24 p.m.

I crept up to her street, (my bus stop being six blocks away). I needed time to prepare my brain for her attempt to shoot me down. She was good at that... She would pick a characteristic about me or an aspect of my life and just let loose on me like gunfire.
I hesitated at the door and knocked lightly, as if wanting her to not hear. She did... I heard every footstep as her heels hit the wood floors. That sound rings in my ears like a bad record on repeat. It was an uneasy sound, a nervous and unsure sound, Full of regret and anger. It was raw and uncontrollable. Her words have cut me many times. She always hid behind a fake ass smile though. I fucking hated that smile. I saw it when she would do things like tell the woman behind her at the grocery store that i am at a holding point in my life and she pays my rent and doesn’t ask for anything back like a good fucking Christian....but I’m here anyway...


November 12, 1998 11:17 p.m.

The first part of the visit with my mother took forever and went exactly like i thought it would. All she did was spend time embellishing obscene excuses as to why i shouldn’t leave and that my father would disapprove. I thought to myself "No shit mom, he would take the water hose to me", that was his favorite. I remember very vividly the rips in my skin from the rubber and the bruises from the metal spray nozzle. But before I could finish my thought my scars on my neck and back screamed at me and i could feel the flesh melting off my bones. I looked at my hands to find rotten purple and blue rips in my hands. A sudden gush of bodily fluid ran down my arms and seemed to take the rest of my skin with it. My cloths fell from my body and seemed to fall forever. I could still feel the tickle of the liquid running down my legs. A ring started in my ears and seemed to drown out all other sounds. I close my eyes. I counted to ten and when I opened my eyes I was surrounded by a dark room with a dim light coming from a single light bulb. The light bulb was hanging from a single wire about seven feet from the connection in the ceiling. No light switch was visible…But I could see arms… Dozens and dozens of long, lanky arms. Their skin seemed to be an off greenish gray color and there were sores on every inch. Suddenly they began to vibrate with aggressive force and claw at the ground. They were coming for me. The limbs moved closer with an obvious intention of hurting me. Suddenly jagged shards of glass were visible as the hand gripped it and squeezed till their hands were bloody. My heart started to race… I had no way out. Then I heard shrieks! Loud, inhuman shrieks that came from all directions. All of a sudden faces were emerging from the dark shadows. Although I wouldn’t call them faces. Gashes and bruises covered their necks. It led to the bulb like figures that were distorted and pulpy with blood. After a few mile-long seconds their legs were visible. They were broken every couple of inches up. Bruised and battered, they took on the shape of broken toothpicks. The shrieks continued and sounded painful but nevertheless unnatural. I panicked, looking for a way out or a means to defend myself. Nothing was in sight other than the single stream of light from above. One of the figures swung their arm and sliced open my leg. I stood skinless as the knife appeared to be ripping through muscle and tendon... The pain was prominent. I screamed and struggled against the grip of the figures. I all of a sudden lost control of my arms and legs and began to claw at my eye sockets. The flesh was cold and wet through my fingers. There was no pain, just a feeling that I deserved this. The horrifying women began to claw and rip at my remains. I placed my head in my hands and screamed. When I removed my hands I was back in my hotel room lying on the floor with a single wound on my leg… Was it real? Did I do this to myself? I couldn’t escape the chance that these floods of horror were real…



November 13, 1998 8:00 p.m.

Well I made it to Debony, CO just in time to want a drink so badly that I was physically ill. That may also be the mentally paralyzing daydreams I have been having. I was losing my fucking mind and I didn’t know how to help myself besides drinking. I’m not sure how long I sat in that bar. It had to have been hours because dawn was peeking when I left. I got into the back seat of my car and lay down. I pulled a pile of dirty cloths over me and tried not to think. But my mind was racing something fucking awful. I kept looking at the clock then at the back of my eyelids hoping to get bored enough to sleep. But my mind continued to chase after the memories of the past few days. I needed some affection. I thought maybe I could wait outside the bar for the cute waiter to close up for the morning but two burley big rig-ers had other plans. I was standing by the door waiting when one of the men walked up to me and asked to bum a smoke. I truthfully told him that I was out and down on luck and cash. He must have taken that as an invitation because his friend ran up behind me and before I could react everything went black. When I woke up I was in the bathroom of the bar. I could see a large chair and a tin garbage can blocking the door. The older man was getting dressed in the corner. The younger man was still beside me. He was completely nude and his dick lay on his left leg still reeking of me and a lack of regret. It infuriated me to the point of jumping up and going straight for the porcelain slab on the back of the first stall toilet. I targeted the standing man first and aimed for his jaw. The first shot was a clean hit because I heard his teeth hitting the floor like hail. The second man jumped up and I took out his knee. He buckled from the blow and whaled out in pain. I continued bash his fucking head in until I was satisfied enough to walk away. I got dressed and stole their wallets and left. My car was still in the parking lot and no sign of the waiter’s. I broke into the bar and took some food and drinks for the road because my next stop wouldn’t be for a while.



November 13, 1998 11:15 p.m.


My next stop was in Lucille New Mexico. It was one of the smallest towns I’ve seen. It consisted of a school, medical center, a gas station and a small neighborhood. Then after all that you pretty much hit the county line. It was pretty neat and organized considering the size of it, but it was obviously quiet and functional. I managed to find a motel right before I hit Langston, NM. It was cheap but not completely disgusting. Honestly I think it was one of the most comfortable beds I’ve slept on in a long time. But it was crudely ruined by my ongoing dreams of fleshy monsters, and people I have been intimate with clawing at my flesh… Those are the most vivid… The dreams of Lyle. I always see him sitting on the ground facing away from me. I always, whether I want to or not, walk up to him and place my hand on his shoulder. It’s warm to the touch but soon goes to mush under my fingertips. His body melts away in a sticky crimson mess and reeks of metal and death. His veins and tendons are still attached to the skeletal system staggering toward me. He asks me why. Why I hurt him. Why did I betray him… I tried to think of when I first started having the visions…It started when I was a child. I remember seeing my grandmother that way. But being too small to react, I took her verbal jabs. Maybe that’s what made me so terrified of her. I was only a small child. I couldn’t defend myself, but what I was seeing couldn’t be real could it? I had to be some suppressed memories or some shit like that. That’s why I was going to see Professor Craven. I remember thinking that was so fucking cool when I read my schedule for the first time. My psychology professor was named after one of the greatest horror writers around. Thinking about that now it’s painfully ironic. And I’m just hoping, to any higher power that will listen, that he doesn’t think if gone off my fucking nut and have me locked up. I needed someone to help me that wouldn’t immediately jump to the conclusion that I’m psychotic, although I feel like it at this point. Maybe there was something wrong…or maybe this “higher power” that I constantly contradict, is getting even. Or if anything maybe my faith is being tested… I’ve always had a hard time believing in something that I couldn’t see. Even the fictional characters our parents made up to keep us in line as children. But out of all of my theories that one seems the most likely to me right now. Maybe satin is proving to me that he is there. If that is so then there must be a god right? All of a sudden my leg starts to burn and ache intensively. I’m tearing at my pants trying to pull the leg up to see. My heart pounds. I can’t believe it but I have to. Out of nowhere the words “I am here” appeared clawed into the fleshy muscle of my calve. I then knew who was doing this to me. But why? Don’t get me wrong, I’m nowhere near a nice person but I have never dabbled in the occult or even gone as far as reading an astronomy book. My mother always would yell at me, “what is not of god is of the devil.” I believe her now… I swallow my fear and mutter to myself “its time to start driving again.