BY : VermillionVenom
Category: G through L > House of Wax
Dragon prints: 2866
Disclaimer: I do not own House of Wax, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

I don’t own House of Wax, some other lucky bastard does. However…MY PLOT MY ORIGINAL CHARACTER! MWEEHEE! Well…Read perhaps?

Dependance by VermillionVenom

“ If I could damn these nettles to the fiery depths of Hell, I bloody well would…” cursed a female, by the name of Lorna, who was shuffling her way through tangled woodland beside a long stretch of road. Birds chirped merrily, leaves grated against each other in rustling moments, and the slate coloured road just visible from behind the trees was as silent as death itself. Quite an unsettling thought for an anxious girl. Rosy lips twisted in a grimace, as the stinging vegetation continued there assault; she had to stay under cover in case her parents came looking for her…

“YOU WHAT?” Bellowed a middle aged man who was obviously the figure of authority in the house.

“I-I-I just went to a party Dad, nothing happened! And I told you about it earlier, remember, and you said I could go!” Shouted Lorna in defence.

“I said no such thing!” The father slurred in a raised voice. A fist came flying up to meet Lorna’s cheek. In a split second it impacted with the side of the girls face, causing her head to snap back violently. Now on the floor, the female’s pained face faced up to meet the looming figure of her parent.

“Seventeen years of caring for you and this! This is what I get in return…”

A pair of brown eyes unglazed to realized she had stopped walking. Lorna sighed and continued to trek on, her sore bare legs now rubbing against bushed of thorns.

“To the depths of Hell with you…” she mumbled to herself.


Eternal darkness. Ongoing ebony. It just would not let him go, would it? The muscles in his legs were in agony, cramped to unbelievable measures. But he could not move. Not a millimetre, for his prison would not allow him. His prison…he had been in one all his life -a prison of insecurity. He could feel the body of his dead brother under him, not alive, like him.

His mind wondered down to his knife wound, alerting his dull mind to the pain. On the insides of his mind, he braced himself for the ongoing slaughter. Maybe someone will come and help him and Bo. Or maybe he will be released from this life to go be with his family.


It was a shocking sound. Breaking through chirping and tweeting, barging past the rustling trees, and smothering the dead road in noise. An engine. Lorna practically choked on her own tongue. She new that engine; the rusted old 1967 Cadillac. Her father. A small ‘eep’ escaped her mouth, then she was off, sprinting through the green growth, pushing against the ground hard as foot after foot hit the floor. Many a branch whipped at her forearms as she held her limbs in front of her for protection. More scratches and cuts marred her once clean skin. Her breathe came out in pants, and a stitch formed on her side. All of a sudden Lorna tripped on an upward slope of dirt, leading to the girl being on her face in the dirt.

“Ugh…” she groaned, the slight sting of dirt in her flesh wounds just making her more annoyed. Picking herself up rapidly, she scanned her surroundings. “A dirt track?” she muttered to herself. The rise in land she tripped over was where car tyres had previously pushed soil outwards, forming the track. Shrugging, she reminded herself that the further away from the road she was, the more chance of escaping her psychotic parent.

Lorna set herself off on a power walk, careful not to trip over anything else lest she scream in frustration and be found.

Lorna heard the metallic moaning of the engine closer to her destination and clenched her teeth, now jogging. A foul stench slammed into her nose in a vomit inducing way. The girl’s tongue immediately pulled out of her mouth, ready to heave, and a green tinge went to her cheeks. She began to breathe through her mouth instead and continued to run on; but she had a horrible thought that instead of breathing the putrid smell through her nostrils, it was beginning to vegetate on her tongue and in her lungs.

Then, the land suddenly sloped downwards, and Lorna began to fall and tumble.A squelching sound echoed in the clearing as the female felt horrible sticky material press in on her - not to mention to smell was now so strong, Lorna was close to passing out. Opening her chocolate eyes, she closed then again once witnessing the sight of a big pile of rotting animal carcasses. Screaming in her throat so it would not be as loud, her legs worked double time to wade through the bloody mess.

Her legs were now caked in crimson blood, and what was most sickening was the fact that it wasn’t her blood. Her limbs laboured to move desperately away from it all.

Ten minutes later Lorna was on her hands and knees, wheezing, and staring wide eyed at a town before her. She wasn’t in shock because it was beautiful, or the fact that she had found refuge from her Dad. But…It was a complete wreck. Wax pasted the whole town, dried around the corners of houses and forming it’s own life size wax town. In the middle was what looked like the source of it all: a big mound of the stuff, like a hill.

Lorna regained her ability to breathe normally and cautiously stepped to the mound of wax.

Then a guttural moan of pain somehow managed to creep through the compounds of the wax and reach Lorna’s ears ever so faintly.

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