Here he was again, stood outside another dressing room door. This time he didn’t wish to waste time staring down the door, instead he thrust it open and entered the room.
Wes Borland lay on the couch in his room. his make-up was all done, his face white. It was a huge contrast to the black of his clothing. His eyes were blacked out. To look at him, it was impossible to tell whether the man was a dead or alive. The thing that gave away the man’s mortal state was the handle of the kitchen knife that protruded from his chest. Only the handle could be seen, the blade had been forced all the way through, until it could go no further.
Chester stood over the body, looking down at the corpse. He didn’t know how he’d got there, he just had. Looking closely, he could see that the black top was actually stained with blood that had escaped from the wound.
Slowly, Chester turned his back on the couch and walked calmly out of the room. He hadn’t even felt affected by that scene. It had had a calming effect upon him. Weird.
He walked down the corridor, his destination apparent. There was only one member of the band left. Fred Durst’s dressing room was the next door down.
Chester now stood outside it, prepared for the worst. The door was already slightly ajar, so Chaz just pushed it and it opened.
The sight that was within the room was unbelievable. Fred’s body had been stapled to the far wall by knives. He had been gutted, cut from sternum to groin, his insides now his outsides. Candles littered the room, making it a type of shrine.
Chester felt his stomach lurch as he looked into the dilated pupils of Fred’s eyes. He ran to his own dressing room, not afraid to burst through this door.
He ran to the dressing table, placing his hands on the table and bowing his head, trying to recover from what he had just seen. He looked up and saw a message written on the mirror.
This little piggy lost his insides,
This little piggy lost his head,
These little piggies bled all over,
This little piggy ran out of breath,
And this little piggy is waiting strapped to her bed.
-You better get your ass home now Chester.
Seeing the words, written in what looked like blood, had an effect on Chester that he’d never felt before. Using all the strength he had and didn’t have in him, he ran out of the arena, got into a car and drove to his home.
‘SAMANTHA!’ he screamed upon entering the house. He charged up the stairs like a bull seeing red. Loosing his balance on more than one occasion, he managed to reach the bedroom door and fling it open.
Her body was strapped the bed by cuffs on her wrists and ankles. She’d obviously been beaten, blood trickled from her nose and cuts on her eyes, cheeks and arms. Her skin was an odd colour, it seemed to have become red, he didn’t understand why. In his panic Chester hadn’t noticed the other person inside the room.
‘Hello Chester,’ the person said, getting Chester’s attention. The person he saw was not who he expected to see.
‘Davey,’ Chester whispered, seeing the AFI front man standing beside his bed. He was topless, all his tattoos were on display, they were rather impressive.
Davey smiled maliciously. ‘If you’re wondering why Samantha’s skin is that colour it’s cos I snapped her jugular. She’s bleeding internally, she’ll be dead soon. You’re too late.’ He smirked again, almost laughing at the thought of his actions.
‘Forgive me for being ignorant, but why?’ Chester asked the overused question, his eyes still trained on the body of his wife, he couldn’t believe she was dead.
‘To use an already used motive, it’s because I’m in love with you,’ Davey’s voice didn’t sound serious but the look in his eyes proved he was.
‘What?!’ Chester cried, taking his eyes off his wife to look at the man he had considered a friend.
‘I love you, is that too hard for you to understand?’ Davey asked, walking towards Chester. ‘You’re such a gorgeous man, it’s hard not to fall head-over-heels for you. On top of that, you are so sweet and caring, I bet you’re a great lover.’ Davey was now stood directly infront of Chester.
‘Well, you’ll never know that now will you?’ Chester snapped, angered by Davey’s selfishness. ‘Why bother doing this? You’re motives and actions are old! They didn’t work for Mike and they’re not gonna work for you.’
‘Aw, c’mon Chester, give up the play for little ole Davey! I’m not asking for much, just you,’ Davey grabbed hold of Chester’s head roughly, pulling his face towards his own. Their lips smacked together, hard, Davey taking the lead in the kiss. He forced his tongue into Chester’s mouth, searching for some comeback. Nothing came. Chester tried to push Davey off him but Davey had such a firm grip on him that it proved difficult.
All of a sudden, Davey’s body jolted and a disgusting taste infiltrated Chester’s lips. Davey’s grip loosened and Chester looked down as a sharp pain hit his Chester. What he saw was a knife piercing two hearts.
Davey’s body slumped against Chester as it's life faded out. Chester pushedthe body off him and saw the knife blade that had pierced both Davey’s realheart and the heart tattooed on his chest. The pain in Chester’s own chest caused him to put a hand to the source of pain, he brought it away and his hand had become a deep crimson colour.
He looked up to see who had done this to him.
‘Mike,’ he said, seeing the man stood infront of him, an evil smile spread across his face. His hair was indeed orange, it had been Mike who he’d seen.
‘What did you expect? Do you honestly think Davey could have done all this by himself? He was just the …hired help,’ Mike laughed, moving towards Chester.
‘Why did you kill so many people? I know you’re not trying to prove your love to me, you just want me dead. So why not kill me? Why all the others?’
Chester’s voice held an angry tone. His hand still held the wound he had on his chest, the blood not slowing.
‘Simple. I wanted to see you suffer. Just killing you would have been too damn easy!’ Mike was now stood within arms reach of Chester. ‘I wanted you to hurt, feel pain and anguish and you found them all dead. And I got exactly what I wanted.’
Suddenly Mike’s arm shot out and Chester felt a sharp pain in his upper left arm. His hand freed the wound on his chest and went to his arm. He pulled away his hand, fresh blood, Mike had just slashed him with a knife.
‘That’s for hitting me over the head with a guitar!’ Mike laughed. ‘And this is for dumping me.’
Mike struck out with his fist, hitting Chester directly on this mouth. The blood loss had made Chaz weak and the impact knocked him to he floor. As he landed he felt his labret stud clack against his teeth. Blood poured into his mouth and Chester spat, he heard a metallic sound as the blood left his mouth. Pain raged through his lip, he used his tongue to feel the damage and realised that Mike hadn’t just split his lip, he’d hit his stud and made it tear through Chester’s lip.
‘Aw, is poor little Chesty hurt?’ Mike mocked the wounded man, moving closer to his fallen body. As Mike got close, Chester kicked out, hitting Mike in the shins, making him fall to the floor.
Chester used this opportunity to get up and run from the room. he got to the top of the stairs and Mike grabbed him, spinning him around 360degrees. Mike had a tight grip on Chester’s wounded arm, causing Chester to cry out in pain.
‘How about a kiss for old times sake?’ Mike asked, forcing his lips to Chester’s. The pain was excruciating as Mike pressed hard onto Chester’s split lip. Chester moved his arms and grabbed hold of Mike’s biceps, pushing his mouth off of his own.
‘How about I return the favour?’ Chester got the advantage of confusing Mike and he pushed, letting his grip on the man go. Mike fell backwards, tumbling down the stairs. There was an audible crack as Mike did a few back rolls and finally came to a complete stop at the bottom.
Slowly, Chester made his way down the stairs and stood over the body of the man who had tried to kill him.
‘This time, I’m not sorry,’ Chaz spat at him, walking away from fallen form.
|TOP | Last updated 15 February 2002 19:42 (AUS EST / +1000 GMT).|