Little Lamb

I had been walking for three days when I saw it. There, in the middle of nothing, stood a brown, paint-chipped wooden barn. It had a too large roof, with two small windows and two uncomfortably bright yellow doors.

"This place is a literal nightmare," I whined under my breath, "but it'll do." I was tired of walking, and this old run-down barn will have to do.

Getting away from home was my only priority. I was tired of the yelling. My dad yelled at my mom, and then my mom, in turn, yelled at me. He's not my real dad, but he's been around since I can remember. His little drinking habit has not, though; it came around right after unemployment benefits kicked in. So, now it's drink, yell, yell some more, repeat.

No, thanks.

I am done with it all, and so I took off. Now, here I am - me, an old barn, and the smell of decaying meat but oddly no livestock in sight.

I'll go back home in another day or two when my snacks run out, I reasoned with myself. After all, I want my mom to know I'm serious about being fed up. If I only stay out one day, she won't take me seriously, more than five days, and she will lose her mind and probably get the cops involved. I don't want the cops involved.

So, here I am.

My first day in the barn is uneventful. Some rats scurry about, the wind whistles through cracks in the wood, and I sit on a stack of hay I formed into my own little comfy lounge chair. I grabbed a bag of spicy chips from my bag, popped in my headphones, and listened to whatever my playlist had in store for me while I scrolled through various social media accounts on my phone. I only ever stopped scrolling to lick the chip dust off of my fingertips. All the walking from earlier in the day had me ready to pass out, so I did.

The next day, I woke up and stretched my legs. The smell was still unpleasant, but the quiet was blissful. After reading a chapter or two of "Animal Farm," I couldn't help but pick up my phone and do my usual scrolling for the day. My phone was at about 52%, so I had to be careful.

About three mindless hours of scrolling later, I hear the sound of a vehicle approaching. Quickly, I dash behind some neatly stacked bales of hay.

"Who could that be?" I whispered to myself. There was no house in this area for miles as far as I noticed.

Crap. I realize I left my bag of chips out in the open. It's too late to get them, I think. So, I crouch down and wait.

The smell of blood and decay is nauseating and hits me in a hurry as the barn doors are pushed open, and the sound of clunky footsteps trudge through the middle of the barn. I have to hold my nose to keep from vomiting. I shut my eyes tight to collect my nerves. A minute later and I finally feel brave enough to peek around the stack of hay I've taken cover behind.

I see a massive silhouette of a man with his back towards me. His shirt is void of color. It could have once been a white shirt, or yellow, or orange, but it had clearly been washed, and washed, and washed so many times that the shirt lost all semblance of its former self. Around wide legs hung loose jeans, stained and just as faded as the shirt on his back, while black work boots hugged feet large enough to keep this bulk of a man standing upright.

A knot formed in my stomach. It no longer felt like a place I should be.

The large man had been dragging a dead lamb into the barn. He began skinning and chopping at the hefty lamb on a rusty wooden table. I could feel myself gag with every thud of his ax, but for what seemed like an eternity, I held my breath and did not budge a single inch.

After two excruciatingly long hours of chopping, skinning, shaving, and whatever else he was doing, the man trudged back out, leaving the stink of dead animal behind. I would have run out right behind him, but it was dark, my phone was low on battery, and my feet felt so heavy all I could do was collapse and rock myself to sleep on the ground.

At first light, I shot up. I grabbed my bag and tip-toed to the barn doors. I leaned against the doors to nudge them open, but they wouldn't budge. Panic lumped in my throat, but I took a deep breath and reached for the doors with my hands, pushing hard. Nothing. I began to yank at the doors with all of my strength. Nothing.

The lump in my throat grew thick and heavy. Sweat formed on my palms, and I felt sick to my stomach.

I was locked in.

I searched for any tool I could find to chop at the wooden frame of this hell-hole. Hay, more hay, nothing but hay! I slowly walked over to the chopping block where fresh blood still dripped on the unfortunate pieces of hay that lay underneath. A bag of lamb guts lay at the end of the table, spewing out blood and flies.

The vomit slid up my throat, but I choked it back down.

I ran back behind the stack I used as my hiding post and sat with tears in my eyes. I'd take my mom's yelling over this nightmare any day.

I grabbed my phone to look up my location, so I could call the police and tell them where I was. Or call my mom, or my best friend, or even my alcoholic stepdad. I was so relieved to have a phone at this moment.

I copied the location and was about to send out a ping when my phone went black. No.

"No, no, no!" I shrieked, more loudly than I should have.

I cried. I had no other choice; I was now stuck in this barn. All I could do was wait.

The butcher, as I now referred to him in my mind, came and went every day for the next three days. It was longer than I planned to be gone from home, but I hoped and prayed my mom had a search party out looking for me by now. I was out of all the little snacks I had packed and only had half a water bottle left.

Every day, at what I assume was the same time, the butcher would do his usual lamb slaughter. The nauseous feeling has stayed with me since the first time he hacked away at the poor lamb from day one.

On day four, he did not come. The barn doors were still locked shut, but at least I didn't have to suffer through the chop, chop, chopping of lamb flesh. After spending all of daylight trying to break any part of this sturdy old barn down with no success, I gave up and fell asleep early that night, preparing myself to make a run for it the next day.

The next day I was woken up by the sound of the butcher unlocking the barn. I peered around the stack.

There was no lamb with him.

Instead, I saw two young girls bound together and gagged. Maybe a year or two younger than myself. I was beyond horrified, and it took everything in my power not to shriek and give away my location. Their eyes were bloodshot and swollen from what I could guess might have been a combination of crying and possibly a beating or two.

The butcher, moving at his usual slow pace, untied the girls from each other. He threw one of the girls atop the same wooden table he's been slaughtering decimating lambs on and tied the other to the leg of the table.

I couldn't believe my eyes. I wanted to help, to scream, to cry, to throw up, but all I could do was watch in horror as the butcher's hacking began. With the same methodical chops as he had for the last few days, he relentlessly cut until what was once a beautiful young girl became unrecognizable pieces of flesh.

While caught up in disbelief and unrelenting horror, I hadn't noticed the other girl had spotted me. When my eyes met hers, I nearly passed out. She could easily give me away, but she just stared at me wide-eyed as if she had seen a ghost. The butcher reached down to untie her, and I've never felt so hopeless.

As he reached down, he grumbled under his breath, "Alexa."

Over my shoulder, I heard a faint beep, and my heart froze. I turned around and looked up to see a device hanging in the rooftop corner; a blue light enveloped the device. I immediately turned back around, ready to make a run for it, only to see the butcher looking straight at me with dark eyes and a smirk so maniacal the hairs on my arm stood up, and a chill ran down the length of my spine.

It was now or never.

My eyes darted from the door to my bag, back to the door. Forget the bag, I thought. I stood and began to bolt for the door when everything went black. When I finally came to, I could only see dirty black boots in front of me and the familiar chopping sound above me. I tried to move but realized I was tied up, just as both girls before me. I vomited.

Then, his voice rumbled out of his body once more.

"Alexa, play 'Skin'."