#story jumps around in time to diffrent horror geners/time periods

[regression-1863]

And Then There Were Two

“You know the story.” 

“We know a story.” 

“So?” The brown haired man— (woman? They never particularly cared, call them a sentient goose for all they care,) leans back in the cheap orange chair. They cross their arms, as if cold. “It’ll all be the same. I already gave you my statement.” it was just the two of them here. Four if you count the facades that each of them wears. 

“You don’t seem too bothered about being in here,” the older man said. He had your typical 70s detective look, trenchcoat and all, cigar lit and being dragged on without care for the osha convention—  have that been invented yet? Seraphim couldn’t remember. Couldnt be bothered to, not anymore. 

“Should I be?” Seraphim asks, watching as  the detective fumes. 

The man takes a deep breath, before asking, “Name, age, date of birth.” 

“Se–” she pauses, “Sarah,, 19, born…” Seraphim pauses for half a second, barely noticeable, “1955, november third.” 

The detective slams his hand on the table, “You’d be 18 then, not 19.” 

“Would I?” Seraphim, aka Sarah puts ‘her’ hand on her forehead. “God, I must’ve been more messed up by this whole thing than I thought. I had my birthday celebrated a few days before  the office was supposed to be vacated.”

The detective, clearly resisting the urge of snapping at this poor young woman, as Seraphim made themself seem to be. 

“Start from the beginning.” 

Sarah, as quiet as she was, was an average worker. She did what she was told, didn’t go beyond that, did overtime when forced. By all standards, a cutboard cuttout office worker. Technically she was an intern, or unpaid labor, only a yearish out of highschool. 

By the time all of the other workers had gotten their things from the building and had left, so had she. Except, of course, she left her laptop. 

October 31st, 1973, 7:50P.M just after sunset, she remembered this little fact. There would hardly be anyone in the building. 

She went to the third floor where she worked, grabbing her laptop, before hearing the sounds of people. They were speaking in hushed voices, and of course, she followed. 

“Why?” the detected interjected her story. 

“They werent supposed to be there. I dont know how they got key’s to the building, its more likely they broke in. I was going to tell them off.” she took a deep breath, before continuing. “There were a group of teens. I told them to get lost–” 

“Can you describe them?” 

She wanted to glare at the detective. “Why, dont believe me?” They couldn’t help the snark in their voice, and quickly tried to reel it back in. 

There was Alexandra. Sarah noticed her first because she stood out the most when she told the group off. She only remembered her name because when the screaming started, her’s was the first to be called. Of course, Alexandra had an alternative fashion sense, and was mouthy, as described by the douchbag next to her. A hockey player? Sarah couldnt quite remember… 

“There were only four of us total I think—” “Five.” 

Seraphim looked at him, a bit bewildered. “Five? I dont remember a fith.” 

“Well there was one. He must’ve been the first to die then, his head was found peirced on the fence. “Ah,” Sarah said with a slight nod, looking down at her hands, into the hot cup of tea that she had no intention of drinking. 

“Lets start with the second victim then. You witnessed that one didn’t you?” the detective asks, almost snidely for a reason Sarah couldn’t comprehend. 

Seraphim could though, and it annoyed them to no end. “It was the cops found you after all. You were covered in her blood.” 

Sarah zoned off, as if remembering the scene vividly. 

She had ran off when the screaming first started. It was likely from the fith person she hadn’t heard of. She and Alexanda hid in the office landry room. It was old, not used often. She hid in the dry cleaner, jumping in to the white lid and hiding there. 

Screaming. 

Alexandra was screaming her head off, partly fearful, partly angry. And Sarah, of course, didn’t witness this. 

The detective sighed. 

“Great. Do you even know what the killer looks like?” 

Sarah gave a small, hesitant shrug. “I only found her afterwards. I didn’t know what to do.” she went quiet. “I think she…” 

“S..sarah. Thats y..your name, right?” Alexandra croacked out. She couldnt move. Her neck had been broken, her body mutilated in ways Sarah refused to look at. “I’m… scared…” 

Sarah felt her chest fall. She wanted to vomit. To rip out her own intestines in solidarity. Or just to die. It was horrific. She stumbled over, too stunned to say anything. She walked up to her. All she could think about was to hold her. Hold her gently and sing her the song that Sarah’s own mother used to sing to her. 

Sarah was crying by now, silent tears falling. “...do you think it hurt?” she asks quietly, though she knew the truth. 

The detective was clearly desensitized by the emotion Sarah was showing, as if it was just another day. “Yes.”

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This is a new original random story im making and posting here because ill prolly never be a published book author :'D anyways! enjoy this random little series haha

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