Corruption Prologue

This is the prologue of what will probably be at least a novella. That being said, there is no blatant smut in this or the entire first chapter. So if you don't like slow burn horror mysteries this might not be for you.

Alice stood in front of her house, dumfounded. She stared at the receding taillights of the car that had brought her home, stupefied at her situation.

She had met John, or was it James? at one of her favorite local clubs a few hours ago. He had bought her some drinks, and they had danced, talked, and made out until the club closed, and then she had hopped into his car and given him her address. She had noticed that he barely touched her when they were making out, but she had assumed he was just shy. When they had pulled up in front of Alice's house, he had helped her out of the car, walked her to her door, kissed her, and left. He just left. What kind of asshole gets a girl all worked up and then just leaves her alone on her front porch? Unbelievable. She had thought that she had left all the prudes behind when she moved to Auberton, but apparently the universe had deemed it fit to present her with the only one for a hundred miles.

Alice looked down at herself, wondering how in the world her outfit wasn't giving off the vibe that she wanted to be fucked like a whore. Was it a kink of his to work a girl up and then leave her unsatisfied? She huffed a derisive laugh. Men.

One thing was for certain, she wasn't ready for her night to be over. She could feel her intoxication level waning, and made up her mind to walk to the liquor store a block over to refuel. Having already danced in them all night, her substantial heels had her calves burning by the time she stepped into the store.

She made her way across the store, picking out a fifth of mediocre whiskey and a liter of Coke. As she walked through the store she could sense the eyes of the proprietor on her. She was used to the attention, that's why she dressed the way she did, especially on nights like these. As she took her two bottles up to the counter, the man's eyes raked up and down her body, from her tattooed and fishnet covered legs, to her lacy black top that dared men to search for her nipples amongst the pattern, to her made up face that hosted a scattering of piercings. The man was likely around fifty, shaved head, red rimmed eyes, possibly middle eastern. She considered offering to join him in the back room, but as horny as she was, she still had standards. She paid for her drinks out of a spike studded clutch on a chain and turned to leave, feeling the man's eyes on her thick ass and thighs until she went through the door.

Outside, she smirked to herself and took a pull from the whiskey bottle before putting it back in her bag. As she walked down the dimly lit residential street to her house, a cold breeze made her shiver, and despite her intoxicated and distracted state, she sensed that she was being watched. Flirting with the liquor store cashier through plexiglass was one thing, but the idea of being followed home by someone was significantly less sexy and more frightening. Alice wanted to be fucked tonight, but she wanted it to happen on her terms. However, as scenes of her rape flitted through her mind, she couldn't help but feel a little excited. She knew it was fucked up, but sometimes she even fantasized about being taken against her will. However, those were fantasies, not something she wanted to have forced upon her in reality.

She turned around, scanning the nearby houses for the shadow of a pursuer, regretting her newly supplemented blood alcohol content. She saw nothing, but the uneasy feeling was still there. The hairs on the back of Alice's neck stood up as she began walking faster toward her home. She could swear she heard something behind her now. It sounded like footsteps with long, drawn out pauses in between. Three or four of her own steps for every one of her pursuer's. She glanced behind her and still saw nothing.

Alice was practically running by the time she made it to her front door. She fumbled the keys out of her clutch and dropped them on the rug in front of her door. She thought she heard a step right behind her, but focused on the keys in the lock. She finally managed to unlock the knob. She twisted it and flung the door open, ripped the keys from it, and slammed it behind her, pressing her back against it. She panted hard, her unseen pursuer sending pure panic into her heart. After a few seconds, she peeked through the window on the door, pulling aside the thin curtain.

There was nothing. No homicidal neighbor on her porch attempting to break down her door, no tall man with a wicked knife, no liquor store clerk hopped up on drugs and looking to rape her. No, those fears had all just been in her head. Had there been anyone out there at all? She locked the deadbolt before moving to her front window, and then glanced up and down her empty street.

Was it possible that Jim had given her some sort of drug? But why leave right after? She grabbed a glass from her kitchen cupboard, tossed in a few ice cubes, and mixed a double Jack and Coke. The whiskey seemed to calm her frayed nerves a bit, and she decided, contrary to her initial opinion, that now was in fact a good time for bed.

The wind picked up outside as Alice was removing her makeup in the bathroom. The gusts were so violent that she wasn't entirely surprised when she heard the sound of breaking glass from the attic. She cursed her neighbors for not cutting down the massive dead oak tree whose branches stretched over the roofs of houses on either side, including hers. As she removed her earrings, she made up her mind to leave it for the morning, as she couldn't do much about it in her intoxicated state anyway.

Then, there was a sound of wood creaking, something hitting the floor, and the volume of the wind increased suddenly, seemingly coming from the hallway. Alice froze, pleading with the universe that somehow it was just a dead branch that had fallen into her attic and knocked open the door on the ceiling of the hallway. But she also knew better. The fear that she felt on the street returned, causing her heart to hammer as she slowly walked to the door of the bathroom and peeked into the hallway.

She saw that the attic trapdoor was indeed open, and the folding stair ladder had extended and was touching the ground. But that was all she saw. No tree branch or intruder. Her mind raced, trying to come up with logical explanation besides those two to explain what in the inky darkness of the attic had caused the door to open.

Then, the lights went out. It wasn't like how lights went out in horror movies, there was no ominous flicker beforehand, no hope that they might just stay on. One moment she had light, and the next she was plunged into darkness. She didn't dare to move, her eyes slowly adjusting to the minimal amount of light in the hallway granted by a streetlight shining in from the window at the far end. It was by this faint light that she saw something begin to descend from her attic.

It seemed to be a bare foot and leg, but something was very wrong about the limb. It was pale, almost white, and as the foot settled on one of the wooden steps, Alice realized that it was far bigger than a typical man's leg, bigger than any man's leg. She stood there, frozen in fear, and watched as whatever this thing was descended from her attic. It came down facing the ladder, and so its back was to her. It was massive, but very thin, it had to bend its knees into a full crouch in order to fit its head into the hallway. It was bony and thin, its ribs and shoulder blades visible through the skin of its naked back. It was completely naked, and she could see the silhouette of something massive swinging from between its legs. Its head was shaved, but not bald; Alice could see a light halo of pale hair atop its head. Then it turned around and looked directly into her eyes. Two points of burning white light burned their memory into Alice's eyes just before everything went dark.