The patience required to hold yourself together, until just the right time to pull on the mask, and slip out the gas chloroform. when I feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as a car stops and picks me up. Countless voices brush against my mind, and they keep telling me, ' Put it on.' And I do. Many people turn to alcohol or drugs when they're stressed or depressed. Yet I can't stop myself from putting it on. This mask, this trench coat, this outfit consumed me when I wore it. I held my gas mask in my hands, staring down at the orange plastic eye covers, the black rubber. My coat was still damp in the rainwater and blood of the family I victimized. Something I deciphered as, 'You're perfect now.' A gas mask looked over me, and he said something. My head felt light, and I was still so very tired. I saw this had gone for several body parts, with my husband, too. Joey was cutting off Nico's left hand, and sewing Lee's left hand onto my son's wrist. What I saw made me vomit in the pool of blood I sat in. I saw Lee lying in the back seats and Nico on the dashboard, near falling off. I tried my best to sit up, arms shaking, body heavy. My family, what was happening to my family? Taking a sniff, I smelled the strong scent of blood. Senses came to me, and I felt myself lying in a warm and thick liquid. The vehicle was parked somewhere, and the only light I saw came from inside the truck. I opened my eyes to find myself sprawled in the bed of the truck. I pulled my shirt over my nose and took silent, shallow breaths, my vision blurring and hearing becoming distant.Įvery part of me was in pain. Joey had sat in the driver's seat, slammed on the gas pedal, and drove. The hitchhiker unbuckled Lee and pushed him on top of me. The truck swerved as Lee's body tried to fall off the wheel. Nico was asleep-I hope it was only asleep-and Lee passed out on the steering wheel. I held my breath, but Lee and Nico didn't. 'Joey, what are you doing-?!' He unbuckled and reached forward, spraying me and Lee with the gas.

Joey had put on a gas mask and he pulled out a can, spraying something at Nico. 'What is that? What are you doing?' Nico's voice seemed concerned, so I looked back. The sound of him unzipping his backpack soon reached my eardrums. Several minutes passed in lack of conversation, the radio playing the only noise other than the still stern precipitation. 'Hello, Joey,' I began, 'I am Jessica, my husband is Lee, and that's our son Nico beside you.' It felt nice to help somebody. I was hoping to get to a pay phone or a mechanic.' He set his bag on the floor. My car broke down way back, and I don't have my phone on me. I've been walking out there for about two hours. 'So, what's your name?' Lee was unamused, and obviously untrusting. I hauled myself back into my seat, taking off my jacket and closing the umbrella. I wouldn't be surprised if Nico never noticed this man. He climbed in, sitting beside my dear Nico. I guided him to the truck and opened the back door. The man hesitated before spilling his answer. 'Do you need a ride to some shelter? Home?' His backpack had a steady stream of water falling from it everything in it must be soaked. His brown hair had dropped over his face. He wore a dark brown trench coat, the rain painting it darker. 'Sir? Sir!' I quickly walked towards him. Now I really felt sorry for him the rain was ice cold. When the truck stopped, I took the umbrella from the glove box and opened it up as I stepped down and into the rushing water. I unbuckled and reached for my coat and pulled it on, pulling the hood up over my head. He sighed, flipping on the blinker to pull over. We'll drop him off there, so he can call someone to pick him up.' 'There's a gas station maybe five miles along. There's no good that can come from them.' 'Jessica, you know I don't like hitchhikers. My husband, Lee, glanced at me quick before returning his view to the road. We should take him home, or at least to some place where he won't be rained on.' Nobody deserved to be walking in conditions like this, especially on a highway with no roof in sight.

That man is walking in the storm.' I frowned and pointed to a man walking along the street, soaked as could be. He was playing his Nintendo DS, seemingly oblivious to the rain beating down on the pickup truck. My thirteen-year-old son, Nico, sat in the back seat behind his father. It had been a while since we've had one as a family. My husband and I were driving home after a nice dinner. The sky water poured down by the buckets, loudly punching the windshield as if it needed to break the glass and drown us. Dark clouds covered the sky, blocking out any hope for sunlight.

Creepy black gas mask