(From ONE NIGHT IN HOTEL)

On the orange carpet I spun on the spot and started to make my run for my bedroom door, but something swept my legs from beneath me and I went tumbling forwards. My chin hit the floor hard, causing my teeth to smash together, and I must’ve bitten my lip because that instantly started throbbing and I could feel blood trickling down my chin. I turned to look and see whatever it was that I’d fallen over, or whatever it was that tripped me, but there was nothing there. I know that there was something there. I didn’t just fall, I felt my legs being pulled back.


Shocked and confused, I climbed to my feet once more. The screams rattled my brain and reminded me what I was doing. I reached for the door handle, but suddenly something hit me, something hit me fucking hard, square in the nose. I stumbled backwards and fell onto the bed. Again I tried to see what the hell had just happened. My eyesight had blurred due to the impact, but I could still tell that there was nothing in the room.


“What the fuck?” I mumbled.


Was this a trip? Had I taken some dodgy shit and now my equilibrium had gone or something? Or perhaps this whole thing was a really bad trip and I was hallucinating the lot, screams and everything. Like Max Payne in that game of his when he hears his kids’ screams. I fucking hated that level.


“Please don’t hurt him.” The woman’s cry attacked my ears again.


I threw myself off the bed and onto my feet. Before I was able to attempt running for the door again I felt a hard slap on my cheek. It made such an impact that my head snapped to the left. Next thing my legs with lifted and I flew back on the bed once more. I screamed. My own scream sounded more like that of a child’s than the one from next door. Something was in here, and attacking me. My eyes wide with fright, wider than the time I’d dropped three ecstasy tablets with Daryl round the back of the shops when we were fifteen. I tried to shuffle backward on the bed, away from whatever this unseen force was, but my feet were pulled forwards again.
The next thing I knew, my jeans were torn from me. Now I don’t mean pulled down off my legs. I mean literally torn away, like they were held on with Velcro on a fucking Chippendales stripper or something. I looked down to my bare legs. Scratch marks suddenly began covering my thighs. I could feel the sting as my flesh tore apart. Blood dripped down and tangled in my hairs, until it reached the mattress and pooled underneath me.


Once more I tried to push myself backwards in a vain attempt of self-defence, but it was no use. I was lifted into the air. My toes rubbed against the carpet, I tried to reach with them, tried to somehow make myself stand on the floor, but I couldn’t. I was just held there in the air. My arms were pulled apart and I was spun around so I was facing the mirror. The picture before me resembled an the most used image throughout all time. With my arms stretched outright and my legs dangling beneath me. I looked like Christ being crucified on the cross.


Deep lacerations began to form on my chest. My head was held tight so I wasn’t able to look down to the wounds. I had to witness them in my reflection. I watched in the mirror as blood poured down my chest. I screamed. I watched my own face screaming. It was then I realised that I couldn’t hear the screaming from next door anymore. Had that stopped? Maybe they’d heard me and that interrupted their family dispute? Maybe they’re dead? Whatever this thing that had me was might have killed them? My screams intensified as I witnessed a deep red line crawl across my forehead. Red liquid seeped from the line and began to drip into my eyes and farther down into my mouth. My teeth were now filled red. I screamed and begged for help, but nothing came. I just remained elevated on my invisible crucifix.


Suddenly my boxer shorts were torn away. Out of my peripheral vision I saw their white blur fly across the room. Before I’d even begun to imagine what was going to happen next, something entered me from behind. It was huge and I felt the skin in my anus rip apart. I’m not talking tearing here. I mean it ripped apart. Blood poured down my legs like someone had just turned on a faucet. The force rammed into me over and over again. My stomach knotted, and jumped, and turned and did every feeling you can imagine. Vomit rushed from my throat and projectile puke flew out of my mouth and splattered the mirror. I hadn’t really eaten for a day or so, so the it was mostly that weird illuminous yellow bile stuff. It trickled down my reflection like the tears that trickled down my face. Now mixed together with the trickling blood from my head wound.


The entity forced itself in and out of my behind over and over again. I swear this thing was barbed because I could feel more tearing as it’s pulled out, and then the impact, though unbelievably painful, was smooth on the way back in.
“Jesus Christ, somebody help me!” I wailed.


Although I didn’t want to witness this assault upon myself, I couldn’t close my eyes. I just couldn’t look away. That’s when I saw it. It was so fast, like a camera flash, but I saw it there in the mirror.


Horns.