Henry awoke with a start, confused as to where he was. The room was dark, slivers of light penetrating through a doorway several feet away. He was sitting in a chair, and what he could only imagine to be chains around his appendages, shackling him in place. The last thing Henry remembered was trying to stop some thugs from carjacking his vehicle. As he approached them, he had felt a hard object smack him in the back of his head.

Now, he was alone in an unknown room, locked in place. His head throbbed as he regained his senses. Henry tried to wiggle and squirm, attempting to free himself through his movements. He had little success, the chains were fastened well. In an instant, the door in front of him opened, a light switch flicked on. Light flooded the environment, blinding him temporarily. He heard the faint buzz of old fluorescent bulbs, complimenting his feelings of disgust.

A man stood in front of him, holding a hatchet. “How are we feeling today?” the man asked in a low tone. He seemed to have an average build, his hair balding, and overall looked like a generic individual. However, Henry was mistaken, as he was not “generic.” His eyes widened as he realized who this person was. He had seen his face online, reading through crime stories. The balding man was a well known murderer.

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A smile crept across the face of the man as he saw the expression that Henry was wearing. “You know me…well, this will be fun…” the serial killer said softly, a hint of pleasure in his voice. The man ran the blade of the hatchet across Henry’s neck, giggling while doing so. Instinctually, Henry headbutted the man as his fight or flight reflexes kicked in, causing him to drop the hatchet and back away. “Ah, you bastard…” the serial killer muttered while holding his now broken nose.

Henry tipped his chair over, causing him to fall backwards. This allowed him to quickly grasp the hatchet, even with his hands tied behind his back. With great difficulty, he was able to push himself up, hunching over, even with the chair still attached to him. “Take this asshole!” he yelled as he jumped backwards to the man, the blade pointing in his direction. To Henry’s surprise, he completely missed and toppled over, smashing the chair, along with his back, onto the floor.

The middle aged killer picked up the hatchet once more and stared at Henry. “Now, what did you expect to accomplish doing that?” He refused to reply and sat in silence. “Hm, you’re no fun,” the man said, like a child that had broken its toy. The serial killer picked up Henry’s head by his hair, lifted the hatchet, and cleaved it into his throat. “There we go, not so problematic anymore are we?” the man said as he watched Henry flop on the ground like a fish till he became acquainted with death.