PillowFace by Kristopher Rufty Page A

his walls.  Not only was his work table dressed with grotesquery, the tops of his dressers were as well.  His closet was even worse. 
    But, there was one missing though, and that was the psycho wearing the white hood.  Was it a pillow case? 
    Joel’s bedroom usually felt so welcoming and familiar, but now it felt like a strange place, as if he’d never been in here before.  A slow, distressing creak of the door being closed froze him where he stood.  The drawn out, raspy huffs behind him sent an arctic blast through his body.  His bowels felt heavy and cold, like they were being ringed by icy fingers.
    He turned around like someone with a gun on them.
    There he stood, hunched over and leaning against the wall, his right hand pressed firmly against his wounded chest.  On the hardwood floor, a puddle of red had circled around his feet.  The man’s eyes were glossy, hazy.  His breathing was deep and slow. 
    He was hurt. 
    Bad .
    Joel forced himself to smile.  Not with happiness, but the way one would smile as if trying to approach a stray dog with a bowl of food.  “Hey there.”
    He didn’t acknowledge the attempt.
    “I’m Joel.”
    He raised his eyes at the introduction, looking at Joel from inside the holes in the sack. 
    “Uh—do you have a name?”
    The maniac didn’t respond to that one either, only continued wheezing, his shoulders rising and falling with each deep breath. 
    “What…are you doing here?”
    He took a heavy step in Joel’s direction.  His figurines softly shook on their shelves.  Joel quickly leaped back, and because of that the man shied back against the wall. 
    Joel felt stupid.  “Sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I didn’t mean to scare you.  I’m not going to hurt you.  I don’t want to hurt you, at all.”  The maniac raised a cagey eye, tilting his head as if confused.  The eyes pulled away from Joel and scanned the room.  The posters, the horror merchandise, the masks, the toys—eyes getting wider as the stare took it all in.  Joel watched with excitement and pride.  “Do you like my room?  Look around if you want to.  I’ve got a lot of cool stuff.  I’m pretty proud of it.”
    He pushed himself off the wall with his elbow, grunting as he sloshed forward like a drunk man leaving a bar.  With each staggering step he took, he left a dotted trail of blood behind him.
    Joel couldn’t peel his eyes away from the inflictions across the maniac’s massive torso.  Slashes, gashes, and gullies of gore drenched through the torn fabrics of his clothes.  His arms were marked just as bad, but the penetrations seemed less severe.
    “You’re hurt really bad.”
    Ignoring him, the man clumsily hobbled to the desk of Joel’s creations.  Some were tributes to other iconic horror characters, but many were of his design.  A burlap mask curtained a Styrofoam head.  Two eye holes had been neatly trimmed, and a small slit where the mouth should be.  Joel watched him as he rubbed his thumb across it.   
    Now, Joel couldn’t be sure, but it seemed he liked that mask.  He vigilantly approached, keeping a good distance from him as he leaned closer.  “Are you hurting?”
    He glanced at Joel over his shoulder, hesitant like an untrusting animal.  Finally, he gave him a single head nod.    
    “Do you need help?”
    His eyes tapered.
    “I mean, do you need me to fix you up?”
    Slowly, he shook his head, pointing a thumb to himself. 
    “You can do it?”
    Another nod.
    “Okay, well, do you want some uh…supplies?  Like bandages, stuff like that?” Nod. “We have all that.  But, you can’t use them in here.  I’m sure it’ll get messy.  So, I’ll show you the bathroom.  Follow me!”  Joel darted to the door.  Turning around, he noticed the man hadn’t moved from the table.  Nor, had he changed his stance.  With his back turned, he continued observing over the shoulder with one eye.  “It’s all right, I promise.”
    He finally took