Writers debate

Every drip of blood that left the dead woman's body caused Victoria's hope to dissipate. Her wrists were tied with the most unpleasant of ropes, and with each tug for bleak freedom, Victoria scarred them further. Her white sweater was caked with dirty tears and dried, crusting blood. Her hair and skin was matted with the same, and now blood was even trickling down her fingertips to a similar rhythm as the corpse on the cold, metal table before her. The old man's voice was so bitter she could taste it. "Does your friend care enough about you, Goldielocks?" Victoria didn't dare look at his hand again. He held that scalpel in that hand, and just the sight of the dead woman's skin on that scalpel made Victoria gag. She was trembling now. It wasn't the tremble as a result to a persistent cold in the air, but a deeper, bone chilling shake that threatened to cease her very spirit and wrench every last droplet of fear out of her. Her hair was brushed aside, the strands wet with sweat and the last of her courage. Her body withdrew from him. Her back pressed hard against the metal shelves she was tied to, and her legs contracted to her stomach. The grime underneath her feet left an uneasiness in her mind. It was filthy, and disgusting, like the continuous screams and crunches from beforehand, and likewise...she couldn't get rid of it... Dennis had gotten to the house far before the old man had informed him to arrive. He was ready to do something...anything. He was shaking. "Is this the place?" the man beside him asked. "Yeah, this sure is," Dennis replied. The old man had left the room, leaving her to a bleak cement basement with the rotting corpse on the table. Victoria began to sob, the entirety of her soul trembling. She bit her lip hard. The woman on the table looked to be in her early 20's, all dressed up and ready to go somewhere. Victoria didn't even have her driving permit. She hadn't had her first kiss. She hadn't even said her goodbyes to anyone...not even Dennis... who was the last good person she would ever see. Death seemed so abstract, like God or Picassos hanging about her room. Abstract to the degree that she could imagine it as anything she pleased. Right now, she hoped death was warm... The old man searched the hall closet for the shovel. The remainders of the bodies would have to be hidden in the house, like all of the other disgusting pieces of trash he picked up on the road. The wooden handle of the shovel peeked out from behind an empty box, and the old man reached swiftly for it. His satisfied chuckle then caught dry in his throat. The ice cold tip of a gun's barrel seized the old man's breath. The snapping back of the gun's hammer pooled sweat down his forehead. "Put...your...hands...up." The voice was firm, rough, and authoritative. A beam of light swept across the basement, and Victoria held her breath, cherishing her last and final crisp intake of the world. Here goes, she thought, here goes my world, here go my memories, here goes my everything. A form stepped into the doorway, and all of Victoria's hopes shifted. He was wonderful. Victoria began to cry. Dennis sped to Victoria's side. Picking up a knife off of the arranged set on the table, Dennis began to whittle his way through the rope on her wrists. "Dennisssss," Victoria sobbed, pressing her head to his shoulder. Dennis soothed her, brushing his hand through her sopping hair as the ropes fell away from her body. Releasing her from the confines brought her to freedom, like a butterfly trailing away pieces of its cocoon. "Dennissss, I th-th-thought I was--" "Shhh," he helped her up to her feet, moving her away from the horrific sight on the metal table. He walked her out of the physical hell. The police officer reached behind him for the handcuff's. "You have the right to remain silent," he informed the old man, the words left his lips through memorized ease. "Everything you say ---" "Yeah, yeah, I get it," the old man said bitterly, his teeth gritted together so tight they were ready to pop. The shovel was at his feet... all he would have to do is.... Dennis pulled his hoodie over Victoria's head. The snug material of it comforted her immensely, and the scent of Dennis inside of it's fabric brought her back to her former world. This was her best friend, and she didn't have to say goodbye now. She smiled warmly, and he back at her. HHHWWWWAAAACK! The metal shovel repeatedly fell into the officer's head, slicing him as if his skull were made of warm butter. _________________________________________________________ FORMER PROBLEM: Victoria has been captured. PROBLEM SOLUTION: Dennis brings a police officer to the scene to help him retrieve Victoria. She is released from her shackles and back with Dennis. NEXT PROBLEM: The old man has killed the police officer, and the teens are still in the house with him. ADDED CHARACTER: Police Officer [character 2, reached new character limit] Thank you, Phil! This story is getting along great.... Good luck in the next round : )