PROLOGUE
September 4th, 2021
If you’re holding this journal in your hands right now and are reading these very words, there’s a good chance I’m dead.
My name is Emily Jane Collins, but my friends just call me MJ. Yeah yeah, I know what you’re probably thinking… MJ like the hot redhead from that one Marvel movie. Classic Hollywood bullshit if you ask me. A gangly white boy turned into a bonafide superhuman hottie by some freak accident arachnid bite? I mean get real, people. Let’s spend two hours on something other than melting your neurons down into a slimy, pathetic pulp. We live in the real world here, I suggest you start living in it.
Fuck. Sorry. Here I go again, off on one of my tangents. I’m supposed to be working on being “less reactive” or some other bullshit word according to Doctor Cornell. Let’s start again, shall we?
My name is MJ Collins, I’m twenty-four, and I live in Starview Heights, Ohio. I’ve been an inpatient here at Sunnyville Health & Wellness for a little under six months now. It’s exactly the opposite what the name suggests…a cold place that reeks of a forgotten glory, like a stuffed bear gathering dust on a book shelf until a Birthday brings about a plushy new rival. With a name like Sunnyville, you know they’ve got to be overcompensating for something. Could it be the overworked staff members? The cardboard cafeteria food that’s littered with carcinogens and GMOs? Or how about the “dorm” rooms that like look like the inside of Alcatraz? I bet even Capone is shuddering in his grave. I mean, I can’t get a decent pee break in without someone running down the halls naked, screaming something or other about Biden lacing the American tap water system with micro-bot mind readers. I mean, for crying out loud, this place should be foreclosed. Let my death record state that.
Shit. I’m venting again, aren’t I?
I’m here because over the past few years, I’ve developed severe depression and anxiety to the point where I have trouble leaving my own room. Journaling has brought about the only joy I have left in the world and before you cast your superficial judgements upon me, there’s more to the story. I’m currently non-medicated against my parents wishes, but it was a compromise on my end for me to even agree to come to this shit-hole in the first place. “It’ll be good for you, Em”, they said. “Millie would want this,” they crooned through poorly-plastered faux smiles, pretending like their other daughter isn’t dead and we’re a happy little family again. It doesn’t take a genius to read between the lines and distinguish each so-called reason I’m the “fucked up” Collins member. A tale as old as time. With a dead sibling who happened to be my best friend and identical twin, overbearing parents who still treat me like I’m twelve, and oh, a whole lot of money in a trust I’m forbidden to touch until I pass a bill of mental health with flying colors. Sounds like a real party, huh?
But now to the real issue at hand: my sister didn’t just die by suicide like the Coroner claims. Like my parents believe. She didn’t drive her car into Brimely Park shortly past midnight and asphyxiate in some cheap Texaco engine fuel fumes, plugging up her old Ford’s exhaust with an old pair discarded panties shoved into the Glove box. The nerve of everyone to believe she would have such repulsive last moments of life. My sister was the happy one. The perfect one. A glittering example of all things kind and gentle in the world. A living personification of grace and beauty.
No, death by suicide was most definitely not her cause of death…she was murdered and I know exactly who did it.
I’m writing this journal before it’s too late for me too. Strange things are happening here inside the walls of Sunnyville and I’m starting to fear for my safety. It’s almost as if… he’s here. Inside these walls. But then again, I always knew it was just a matter of time before he found me.
Like I mentioned before, if you’re reading this final entry, it’s too late for me. Please tell my mom and dad that I love them. I forgive them. Tell them that I’m with Mills, and that I’m sorry for not being a better daughter.
But mark my words, if these pages should ever come across the eyes of the man who watched my sister and I gasp for breath in our final moment’s of life—
I’ll be saving you a seat in Hell.
—————————————————————
CHAPTER ONE
It’s a cool September night after a day of torrential downpour. The summer heat is just starting to die down and the normally unbearable Midwestern days are slowly turning into tolerable Midwestern nights. Starview Heights is a quaint town, located far from the hoopla of the city and with it, all of it’s pollution, noise, and grime.
MJ Collins sits at an oval desk in her spacious two bedroom apartment and gazes into an ornately-carved vanity mirror. She’s a pretty young woman, with curly blonde tresses that frame her small face perfectly and light blue eyes that shine with intelligence and a certain thirst to acquaint herself with her surroundings. She stands, and with a natural grace, carries herself to the window to overlook a soft rain that begins to fall once again. She’s dressed in silk robe that hints a lacy black lingerie set underneath. Staring out into the window, she seems to be world’s away, lost deep in thoughts unknown.
With a deep sigh, she closes the window’s curtain and walks over to the bed. With a swift movement her silk robe falls the ground, exposing a sheer black lace that hugs her body with ease and leaves no detail out. She crawls onto the bed slowly, stretching her long porcelain legs and arching her back—prepping for the event about to ensue. She reaches into the bedside table and produces a tiny black vibrator— with a click switch, a gentle hum begins. MJ unhooks her bra, and supple size D breasts tumble to her chest and with bounce softly upon skin meeting bone. She flips on her back, butt lifted, and slides her black panties down her long legs where they are discarded to the floor. The black vibrator meets her perfectly-trimmed landing strip and she moans with anticipation. She begins slowly, teasing the vibrator softly to her clit, fingers tracing up her toned naval. Her breathing increases as the vibrator purrs along. She moves now in circular motions, speeding up as a climax fast approaches. She moans— a husky and delicate sound that softly escapes parted lips. Just as she’s nearing an orgasm, her phone buzzes from the table. With a frustrated groan, she grabs her phone, silencing it. She takes a deep breath back into relaxation and begins to massage her body. Her tiny hands cup overspilling breasts, and she begins making small circular motions, kneading her soft skin. With a quick lick of a fingertip, she traces her perfectly-shaped nipples that erect in the cool room’s air upon meeting her wet fingers. With another soft moan of delight, she sinks back into the bed, one hand on her left breast, while the other hand begins to pleasure herself once more. Bare fingers trace rosy lips— delicious folds of pale pink that glisten in the dimly lit room. Faster and faster, she touches her clit and her fingers begin to drip with cum, overly aroused as her breathing quickens. With an arched back, she orgasms and a small cry erupts as she gasps and tries to regulate her breathing once more. She sits up, revealing a small wet pool on her gray silk sheets— the only evidence of her pleasure play. She smiles softly, blonde hair now lightly tousled and a slight flush to her cheeks. Naked, she puts on her silk robe.
Her phone rings once again, dissolving her soft smile. With a soft grumble, she answers, and connect the call to speaker.
“Sorry I missed you, Mads. I was…preoccupied. What’s up?”
A young female on the other end cheerily responds. This is MJ’s closest friend, Madison Evans. They’ve been childhood friends for nearly a decade and act more like sisters than friends. It’s the kind of friendship that transcends first heartbreaks, broken bones, college graduations, even the death of a beloved sister.
“Took you long enough to answer, M&M. What are you doing tonight?”
“I dunno, Mads. I was going to finish pulling a report for Christie. She gave me so much shit to do. I have to propose a new bid for the Handler firm by Monday. And please for the love of God stop using that nickname.”
“Boo! Do you ever set boundaries with that woman? It’s not like she pays you well. Besides, it’s illegal to work on a Saturday night. C’mon, two drinks at Trav’s Tavern, you’ll be home in an hour, tops.”
“You know I love you Skittle, but I think I’m going to sit this one out. Connor will go with you, I’m sure. He’s in love with you.”
“Connor’s coming already and he’s bringing his hot shot Med Student friend. Newly single with a 3.8 and tall, dark, and handsome to match.”
MJ just stares at her for a minute.
“And?”
Madison grins, trouble illuminating her soft brown skin.
“And…just how you like ‘em! Lord knows you might even get some dick tonight.”
This gets MJ laughing too.
“Hey! Don’t underestimate the power of good vibrator. Fine, two drinks. I’ll meet you there in an hour.”
From the other line, Madison squeals in delight. MJ rolls her eyes fondly…it’s almost too easy to please her best friend. She hangs up, the smile back on her plump lips, and begins to get ready.
*****
Chapter 2 in the works!
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/imxyxf/a_seat_from_hell_prologue_ch_1_horror_fiction_nsfw