My Harem Will Help Me Get My Revenge-Chapter 25: Serial Killer with a story

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Chapter 25 - Serial Killer with a story

Chapter - 25

"What the fuck..." Lucius's voice came out barely louder than a whisper.

The room smelled awful... It was like the stench of rotting flesh filled his nose and burned his throat. He instinctively covered his mouth with his hand.

But it wasn't just the smell that twisted his stomach.

It was what was in front of him.

Now matter how calm he had been all this time, his fingers were trembling slightly.

The room was dimly lit, just one dying bulb that was hanging above which cast long shadows across the walls.

But the bulb wasn't the only thing hanging from the ceiling. Something else. No... many things. Dozens. Maybe more.

Iron chains hanging from the ceiling rattled softly. He took a slow and unsteady step forward. He squinted trying to see through the half dark room, trying to make out what it was.

Then, he finally made it out. And his face frowned in confusion.

Puppets?

Dozens of them puppets? Why were they hanging from the ceiling? They were arranged around the room like some gruesome display.

At first sight, they looked like regular dolls. Dolls with lifeless limbs and tilted heads hanging with iron chains. But somehow there was something... wrong. It looked just so real.

And as Lucius's eyes adjusted, the frown on his face turned into a shock.

Their skin was too real, pale and wrinkled. It was just too real. Thick, black stitches ran across their arms and legs which held the patches of flesh together. It was like a fucking Frankenstein experiment.

'These aren't fucking dolls,'

'These were humans. Dead human corpses.'

Some of them had arms stitched from mismatched pieces... One smooth and pale while the other dark and scarred.

On their faces some had hollow sockets where eyes should have been. While the others had real eyes. Real human eyes which were still glossy, staring at Lucius like they were alive.

One puppet in the corner had a twisted grin carved into its face, lips split open and stitched upward, like it was smiling at him. There was still a trail of dry blood oozing from the corners of its mouth.

Lucius took a step forward but just as he did, he felt something sticky below his shoes. When he looked down, it was blood. Fresh blood.

Drip! Drip! Drip!

A very faint sound echoed in the silence of the room. A fresh puppet hung in front of him, its skin barely dry. The fingertips of the fresh corpse were pulled out, its eyes gouged out.

But the brutality did not end there.

On a table at the centre of the room lay a human body. It was a man.

The skin of that man was peeled off exposing raw, red muscle beneath. His stomach was cut open, and his intestines were out in the open.

"Hehehe..." A sudden, chilling laugh slithered through the silence, scaring Lucius.

The driver stood there, grinning with the hammer still gripped tightly in his calloused hands. His face was smeared with his own blood.

"Welcome to my art gallery," the driver rasped, stepping forward. His voice was beaming with pleasure, "Do you like it?"

"You are so eager it seems. Saved me the trouble of carrying you here," The driver smiled, "You are such a sweetheart, boy."

"Do you think I am like them?" Lucius snarled, looking at the old man with disdain, "I don't care what you do here, but I am not going to end up hanging here."

The driver tilted his head, his grin stretching wider, showing his white teeth, "You need to care. This is MY PASSION," he whispered as his finger trailed along the grotesque puppet hanging next to him. He felt their stitches with an unsettling tenderness.

"You see, I always loved making puppets. But people laughed at my work and called me a freak. They never understood," His grip around the hammer tightened, "Not even my stupid parents."

"How could they not? They were supposed to. They were my parents."

"But they did not."

"Instead, they called me mad. That I was the weird child they never wanted," The older driver walked towards a puppet, struggling to move with his limping legs, "I was hurt. Very hurt."

"So I lost it one day," The driver looked disappointed, "In a fit of range I killed them. I killed both of them."

"It was in the fit of rage. I had no control over myself," Anger began to take over the driver, "Even though I was their son, why would they never love me? Why?"

"But I still loved them," The old driver spoke with tenderness, "I couldn't live without them."

"I was scared. I didn't know what to do. Bury them? Burn them?" 

"But then... It hit me. Why waste this opportunity?" He leaned in slightly, his grin stretching wider.

"Why not turn them into something beautiful?"

"So when I was done, they weren't just a body anymore. They were my art. And I was the artist."

"You are fucking sick." Lucius looked at him, disgusted.

The driver chuckled, his breath wheezing, "Oh, sweetheart... You think it is sick now," He stepped closer, licking his lips, "But when you get to experience it, you will end up loving me."

"You will be grateful."

"You... You are perfect. The symmetry, the flesh, the muscle structure... Trust me sweetheart, you will be my masterpiece."

"Ohhh shut up you... Sick bastard," Lucius rolled his eyes looking uninterested, "You are fucking disgusting."

"Hehehe..." The driver laughed, low and wheezy, "I can see the fear in your eyes."

"It makes me hard," He whispered.

Lucius snapped. He charged forward, and threw a wild punch right at the driver's jaw.

CRACK!

The driver didn't dodge as he went stumbling back, slamming into a table. One of the puppets above them shook, dropping a bloody finger onto the floor with a soft thud.

"That's the best you can do?" the driver chuckled, "Then let me show you what a real man can do."

He swung the hammer, aiming for Lucius's head, but Lucius ducked just in time. The hammer smashed into the puppet behind him with a loud BANG and it sent the puppet flying.

Lucius kicked the bastard in the gut, making him grunt and stagger back.

Blood sprayed from his mouth as he hit the ground hard. But he wasn't done.

The old freak grabbed a scalpel from the table and lunged at Lucius, slicing deep across his forearm.

"AHHH FUCK!" Lucius shouted, grabbing his arm as blood ran down his skin.

The driver cackled, "See? You bleed beautifully."

Lucius's eyes burned with rage. He grabbed the nearest thing he could... A broken puppet arm and slammed it across the driver's face.

CRACK!

The driver dropped the scalpel and shrieked in pain, clutching his face, "My nose! Aaahhh! You broke my fucking nose!"

Lucius didn't stop. He tackled him to the floor and sent his fist swinging at the driver.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

He punched the old bastard again and again as blood splashed across his knuckles. The driver screamed, trying to push him off.

But Lucius was like a wild animal.

He grabbed the driver's hair and smashed his head into the ground.

Once...

Twice...

THUD! THUD!

The floor was soaked in blood again. But this time, it was the driver's blood. His face was swollen and broken. His eyes barely opened. His nose got crooked.

Lucius stood, his hands shaking and soaked in red.

But the driver still moved.

"You are not done yet?" Lucius smirked, "So am I."

He reached for the hammer that lay beside the driver.

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Lucius snarled and kicked him in the ribs... CRACK!

The sound of bone breaking echoed in the room.

The driver let out a choking cough and blood spewed out of his lips.

"You want to make art?" Lucius hissed, "Then here is some fucking abstract for you."

He grabbed the hammer, raised it high...

BANG!

Lucius slammed it down on the driver's shoulder. The bone shattered like glass.

AAAGGGGHHH!!!

The old man screamed in pure agony.

But Lucius didn't care. He brought down the hammer again...

BANG!

And again...

BANG!

Blood continued to paint the walls and Lucius's face.

And soon the driver stopped moving.

He was a broken pile of blood, flesh, and shattered bones.

Lucius stood over him, his face splattered in red.

He dropped the hammer. With his hands, his face and then grabbed a cloth from nearby, wrapping it around his bleeding arm.

"I am not your fucking masterpiece."

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[Author's Note: If you are reading the story. Don't forget to let me know in the comments your thoughts, and do vote with Power Stones and Golden Tickets.]