Abattoir

I entered through a screen door

and immediately the smell of blood

and BBQ sauce hit my nostrils.

What I felt as I walked deeper

into the room was a burning

pain across the back of my skull.

The killer shook his head

furiously and squeezed

the scalpel in his hand.

His blond hair was thick

and wavy, knotted with clots

of congealed blood and grease.

My vision was blurred;

my teeth were numb.

I was in bad shape.

He placed the scalpel against

the meat of my thigh

just below the hipbone.