Gift for MarksonJikookTrash

Gift from ???


 

Title of the gift: Just Like in the Movies

Paring: Markson

How many words: 3,721

Rating: Horror/Thriller, PG-13 for mentions of violence and killing and all that gore stuff

Warnings: Mentions of murder and blood and gore and stuff

Note to my giftee: This was my first time writing horror but I think it turned out more thriller than horror? Either way, I hope you like it! I’m sorry it took a while, but I really wanted to get it right for you :) Happy holidays!

Just Like in the Movies

Gripping his ticket in excitement, Jackson found his seat in the theater for the midnight premiere of the new horror film Fractured. He had been waiting for this movie to be released for two years now, and he had very high expectations for the director who was known for psychological horror.

Honestly, horror movies were a guilty pleasure of his. There was something about them that excited him like not much else could. The way they awakened his senses, tensed up his muscles, and left him on the edge of seat had him always craving, wanting more. And what better time and place to watch the scariest movie of the year than in the middle of the night in a theater on the edge of town where the lights from the city barely reached?

Jackson could feel his nervous excitement bubbling as the lights dimmed slightly in the theater and everyone either cheered or whimpered. After the announcements and previews, the lights were dimmed further until it was nothing but darkness. Jackson’s legs were bouncing up and down in anticipation, his popcorn almost jumping out of its bag. Who will the killer be? Will it be a person or a monster? How will they take their first victim? Torture...or a knife...or a chainsaw? Jackson could almost squeal in delight.

Despite the cliché plot of a psychotic killer and people exploring rundown buildings that they obviously shouldn’t have, Jackson was still on the edge of seat for most of the movie. The creaking doors, the ghostly winds, the jump scares, the trails of blood. The way the actors screamed in terror as if they were really being chased and tortured; the way their limbs bent out of shape when dropped from the 10th story window; the way their blood spattered about as the killer hacked at them over and over again.

By the time the third victim was caught by the killer, Jackson had finished all of his popcorn, the abandoned bag on the floor in front of him as he hugged his knees to his chest. This chase was the creepiest yet as the victim became trapped in the storeroom of a butcher’s shop. The killer would appear suddenly next to a hanging pig carcass before disappearing just as quickly. The victim’s breath was rapidly increasing. His heartbeat was quickly accelerating. He was shoving each carcass out of the way with increasing anxiety. The killer’s laugh echoed throughout the room. The victim was defenceless. Trapped. The killer was closing in. A butcher’s knife glinted in the corner of the screen. The victim was barely able to let out a scream when the knife went swinging down and blood covered the screen.

Jackson jumped in his seat a little in fright but then chuckled at himself for being scared. He heard another chuckle to his right and startled again, not remembering having someone sit next to him before the movie. Since the theater was dark, Jackson could not make out the other’s face well, but his laugh was light and breathy.

“Does the director even know what it’s like to kill a man?” the other whispered quietly with a scoff.

Did he just hear him right? Jackson discreetly glanced at the man next to him. The other had his hand over his mouth, trying to quiet his laughter. On screen, the killer was whistling happily while wiping up the blood. While the comment was a bit weird, Jackson thought that maybe the kill was not that realistic...there was too much blood, anyway...and with a butcher’s knife? How cliché.

By the way, when did someone sit next to him? He must not have noticed.

The fifth kill has the murderer chasing the victim through an abandoned warehouse with an old ax he found there. When the victim reached a locked door that would not open, she screamed in horror as the killer caught up to her and swung the ax right through her neck. As expected, Jackson heard a chuckle come from the man next to him.

“You can’t get a clean cut with a rusty old ax like that, trust me.”

Jackson’s eyes widened, and he shifted away from the man. He was definitely creeped out now. But maybe the man was just a movie critic who was an expert in horror films? That might explain why he has such a keen eye for unrealistic deaths. That must be the reason.

Right?

So Jackson just sat back in his seat, still slightly leaning away from the mysterious man.

- - - - - - -

As the killer the blood from his knife, he turned to look right into the camera. A sickening smile crept over his face as he seemed to stalk toward the audience, knife raised. The music crescendoed to a frightening fit as the killer lunged into the camera, the audience screaming in terror.

And that was it. The credits rolled, and the audience applauded before making their way out of the theater. All except for one person.

The man next to him was not clapping. He remained seated, head tilted just a little to the right as he read the credits. In the dim theater light, Jackson could finally get a good look at him. Sand-colored hair, longer face, sharp jawline. When he laughed, his lips revealed a row of pointed teeth. He was dressed in a sweater and jeans, nothing out of the ordinary.

So Jackson braved a question.

“Do you write movie reviews?”

The man did not move a muscle. He just kept staring straight ahead with a smirk on his face. Jackson raised his hand as if to tap on the other’s shoulder, but a sudden fear stopped him from doing so. It was then that the man suddenly turned to him, eyes staring directly into Jackson’s own.

“Me?”

The straight gaze unnerved Jackson, but he continued to hold the other man’s gaze. He was too curious at this point to go back.

“Oh no, no I don’t.”

“Ah...it just seemed like you had a lot to say about the movie.”

The other man raised his eyebrows before chuckling and turning back to look at the credits.

“Well, it’s not very realistic, is it?”

“Really? It seemed pretty real to me.”

“Well, have you ever killed a man before?”

Jackson could not help but laugh at the man’s joke. But when he saw that the other was not laughing, his laughter awkwardly died out.

“Um, no, of course not,” Jackson replied with an equally confused, amused and scared look. The man nodded as if that fact explained it all. And against his better judgement, Jackson braved another question.

“Why, have you?”

The man stood up from his seat, fixed his sweater, and grabbed his drink from the cup holder. When he turned to face Jackson, something about his face had darkened. His hair fell in front of his eyes, and the shadows from the theater light cast his features in a frightening way. When the answer left his mouth, it seemed to echo in the now empty theater, voice seemingly deeper and darker than before.

“Yes.”

Jackson sat shell-shocked in his seat as the other walked away. He was not sure which was more scary, the movie or the conversation with the man who had sat next to him.

When the cleaner entered the movie theater and stared weirdly at Jackson, he snapped out of his thoughts and quickly exited.

The night air was chilly at 2:30am when he finally stepped outside. Jackson pulled his sweater tighter around himself and took out his phone to call for a taxi. He paced across the entrance as he waited, hoping the cold air would help him forget his earlier conversation.

When he turned around to pace again, strong hands wrapped around him from behind. One hand went straight to his mouth with a weird-smelling rag. Jackson tried to yell and break free, but whatever the rag was soaked in was making him dizzy and weak. His vision started to blur as the hands pulled him back behind the theater building. Soon, everything went dark.

- - - - - - -

His eyelids felt heavy. His head was fuzzy. His vision was blurry. He tried to move his arms but he could not feel them. How did he get here?

After a few more minutes, he finally had enough energy to lift his head. He looked down and saw that his arms and legs were strapped down with leather restraints to the metal table he was on. A single lightbulb above him was the only light in the windowless room. There was a small staircase in front of him. Rows and rows of silver knives, weapons, and other instruments hung on the walls.

When he saw a rag resting on a table in the corner, he suddenly recalled everything that happened. He struggled against the braces on his arms and legs to no avail. Fear corsed through his body as he started to hyperventilate. He continued to thrash wildly on the table. The metal legs screeched against the concrete floor as he struggled. He tried to scream, but his voice came out as just a hoarse whisper.

He was trapped.

A figure slowly stepped out of the shadows. When Jackson heard the footsteps, he twisted to the left to see his kidnapper. He heard the light, breathy chuckle before he saw the other’s face. In his arms was an ax, and he was slowly raising it up and slapping its hilt against his palm menacingly.

“Do you like horror movies, Jackson?” he asked innocently, eyes staring straight into Jackson’s. He swung his ax down and leaned on it as he took out Jackson’s wallet from his pocket and threw it next to Jackson.

Jackson did not respond. He felt paralyzed under the other’s gaze. Only now did everything he said in the theater make sense. That means that this man has killed someone before...just like he will probably do with Jackson.

When Jackson stayed silent, the other continued, “Well, I don’t. I’ve always felt they were never...realistic enough. So I decided to see what it was really like...”

He stepped closer to Jackson who flinched and tried to move away despite the restraints on his limbs.

“...to kill people.”

He ran his fingers over the blade of his ax almost lovingly as he said, “You need a lot of strength to get any kind of clean cut with a dull ax. Slicing heads off is hard enough even with a sharp weapon.”

Jackson started to freak out. He twisted and the table, rattling his restraints and making the table screech across the floor with a deafening shriek. He tried to scream the best he could with his hoarse voice. He needed to escape. He needed to get out of there. He needed to survive.

The kidnapper just laughed at his attempts to break free.

“Where are you trying to go, Jackson?” he yelled over Jackson’s struggles, “You can’t get out of that! No one can hear you scream. You’re all alone, Jackson! Just me and you!”

As he continued to laugh, Jackson could hear it became strained. The more Jackson struggled, the more the other’s face fell. Suddenly, he threw away his ax, stepped right up to Jackson, and slammed his hands on the metal table. His face was threatening as it was brought just inches in front of Jackson’s own.

“I thought you were interested! You asked me all those questions and I thought that... maybe... you were...”

He pushed away from the table and began pacing. Jackson had now settled down out of fear and helplessness. He could not escape by force, so he needed to think of another way. He was scared by the kidnapper’s quick change of mood. His face has been bright as he talked about killing people, but now it was forlorn and almost sad.

He stopped pacing, face staring blankly at one of the weapon-covered walls.

“Movies aren’t realistic because they always show the antagonist all by himself. Like he can’t feel...”

He shook his head as if to get rid of his thoughts. He walked toward the other side of the room and picked up a knife that had been laying on the table. As he was facing away from Jackson, the trapped man looked all around the room again, trying to pinpoint a possible exit. There were no windows to leave through, the only exit seeming to be the stairs that led up to a single door. He figured he was in the basement of a house or other type of building. To his right was a wall of sharp knives. If only he could shuffle the table over more and reach one of the knives, he might be able to cut himself out of his leather restraints.

Hearing quiet sobs, Jackson brought his attention back to his kidnapper. The male was hunched over the far table, crying but trying hard not to be heard. He was quickly wiping at his eyes sniffling as if to hold back sobs. When he turned around, he noticed Jackson watching him and sighed. He wrung his hands together as if suddenly shy and self-conscious, not meeting Jackson’s gaze.

“It gets lonely, this life,” he said in a whisper. “That’s what movies don’t show. That no one ever... but I just want...”

He wiped at his eyes once more before hesitantly stepping forward.

“What do you like about horror movies?”

Jackson still did not respond, this time contemplating his answer. If he could not force his way out of here, he might be able to play nice and gain this man’s trust.

“What’s your name?” he finally spoke up, voice still gravelly and sore. The kidnapper blushed at the unexpected question.

“Oh, right...my name’s Mark. Guess I never introduced myself. I always forget...”

Jackson tried not to show his discomfort. So Mark had done this before? Are those people even still alive? Jackson did not want to know the answer to that question. Instead, he decided to think carefully about his response and be honest.

“Well, M-Mark...horror movies make me feel alive. My heart beats quicker, I feel breathless, I need to move and run away...like I’m being chased. Like I’m the victim.”

“And that excites you?”

“Yeah...I guess so.”

“Wow...”

Mark looked at Jackson with a newfound fascination. He suddenly grabbed a chair from across the room and pulled it over to the metal table, sitting on it backwards with his arms across the back, head resting on top.

“I like horror because it’s raw,” he explained excitedly. “You get to see the real, primal being of each person, none of these masks we put on to blend into society. It shows people for who they really are.”

He scoots even closer, and Jackson instinctively recoils as far away from him as possible.

“When you were watching the movie, I noticed how absorbed you were in it. And when you talked to me afterwards, you weren’t...wearing that mask. You were interested in me and I...I needed more. I needed you.”

He stood up from the chair and kicked it away. Grabbing Jackson’s hand, he leaned in closer. Jackson felt like screaming, but he held himself back.

“What’s your favorite way to watch someone die, Jackson?”

The trapped man gulped. He could feel his insides churning, queasy at the sparkle in Mark’s eyes as he talked to excitably about death.

“Um, I guess...ch-choking.”

Smiling and laughing, Mark replied, “That’s so intimate! You really have to be up close to your victim. Get a good grip on them. You have be strong, as well.”

As he talked, Mark placed his hands on Jackson’s throat and pressed down. It was just long enough that Jackson felt his breath leaving and started to squirm in discomfort. Mark released him, though, laughing at Jackson taking a few gulping breaths to regain the lost oxygen.

“You want to know what my favorite way to watch someone die is?”

Jackson was still coughing and did not respond.

“Well then,” Mark said as his eyes became dark, “how about I show you?”

Mark brushed his hand down Jackson’s arm before coming to a stop on the restraints. As he undid the leather buckles, Jackson felt a surge of adrenaline coarse through his body. One by one, he began moving his arms and feet, feeling the prickling of the blood flowing back into his appendages.

By the time Mark released his right hand, Jackson was ready. With all the strength he could muster, Jackson brought his hand back and landed a punch straight into Mark’s face. The kidnapper stumbled back and put his hands up to cover his face. Jackson leaped off the table and immediately reached for one of the knives on the wall. He stood at the ready, knees slightly bent, eyes locked on Mark with a crazed look on his face.

When Mark lowered his hands, the part of his face Jackson hit was already turning red. When he saw the knife in Jackson’s hand, though, Mark actually smiled.

“Oh, you guessed it right on the first try!” he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small knife.

“A knife, right to the throat, blood spitting out of their mouth and right onto my face...and then I twist the knife in even more, pull it out and push it in again and again and again and again until their head is about to fall off! What a beautiful sight!”

Mark’s laugh was now high-pitched and crazy. His eyes were sparkling in enjoyment as he twirled the knife in his hand. Taking the first move, Jackson lunged at Mark with the knife. Mark easily blocked the attack with his own. The other was a lot faster than Jackson expected. No matter what Jackson tried to do, he could not land a hit on Mark. Knives clashed. Jackson felt like his heart was pounding out of his chest. He had to win. He had to slow Mark down. He had to escape. He had to survive.

A sudden attack by Mark caught Jackson’s arm. When he tried to back up, Mark tripped Jackson with his foot and pushed the other down to the floor. Mark followed him down and brought the knife to his throat. Jackson could feel the sharp blade pressing against his neck, so close to slicing his throat.

“This position...full of control...your victim vulnerable beneath you.”

Mark leaned in closer. His breath was hot on Jackson’s face and make Jackson’s stomach churn sickeningly. If he struggled, Mark could easily stab him in the neck or any other place. This...may be his end.

Jackson let his body relax and closed his eyes, giving in to his fate. But then he felt something on lips, and he snapped his eyes open to see Mark kissing him. His body shifted in shock. The knife ended up pressing just a little too much into Jackson’s throat and he gasped in pain. Mark took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, tongue starting to explore Jackson’s mouth.

A surge of adrenaline kicked though Jackson’s system and he threw Mark off of him. As soon as he was no longer trapped under the other’s body weight, he made a break for the stairs. He could hear Mark’s laughter echo behind him as he bounded up the stairs two at a time. Luckily the door at the top was unlocked as he threw it open and made his escape out of the building.

He did not stop running until he saw the city lights again.

- - - - - - -

Mark casually walked down the busy street, his coat warm against the late autumn breeze. There was a stand up ahead that was selling magazines, newspapers, cigarettes, and other miscellaneous goods. As he passed by, he saw the day’s headline.

“MOVIE MURDERER STRIKES AGAIN”

Mark smirked as he picked up the newspaper and asked the seller how much it was. After buying it, he walked back a few blocks to the bus stop he passed along the way and sat down to read the article. For the past six months, an unidentified murderer was copying recent horror movies and replicating them in real life. No one knew who he was, what he looked like, or where he was from. The recent murder discussed in the article was fashioned after a movie where the killer picked his victims from the bus stop–

A knife against his throat stopped him from reading further. A gloved hand held it, and a black sweater covered the perpetrator’s arm. Mark did not even flinch, though.

“I knew it,” he said. “I knew it from the moment I first sat next to you...”

The knife pressed into Mark’s neck even more, just enough for a little blood to come out. Mark reveled in the feeling and let out a sensual moan.

“I knew that I finally found someone,” he whispered before smiling and leaning his head back to stare into Jackson’s eyes. His face was hidden under a black hoodie, but Jackson looked the same as Mark remembered from all those years ago. Those eyes held the same wonder that Mark’s own held when he decided what he wanted to do with his life.

“Finally...”

Jackson’s lips parted back to reveal a smile.

“It gets lonely, this life,” he finally spoke, voice smooth and low, not hoarse like Mark remembered. Coupled with the drops of blood that were slowly creeping down his neck, Mark felt overwhelmed and overstimulated.

“You want to...” Jackson started before he was cut off and Mark reached his hands back to pull Jackson down into a searing kiss. Their lips melded together just like they did back then. The only difference was that this time, Jackson kissed back just as much as Mark.

After a minute, they both parted to catch their breath, but their lips stayed just inches from each other. Eyes locked onto Jackson’s, Mark felt something in his chest surge with pleasure and excitement for the future as he whispered the words he had been waiting to say for years.

“Who next?”