Last time we had seen that the Headless Horseman had a young lady tied up and isolated behind an abandoned building. Despite giving his word that he would not bring harm to her, he stuffed an entire jar's worth of baby food into her mouth and then kicked her in the chest.

Her chest writhes in agony but she is unable to do a thing thanks to her hands being bound behind her. The Headless Horseman starts to lower himself, bending his knees just a little as the black void within that large hood looms closer to her face. Her stringy brown hair has some strands stuck to her sweaty face as tears run down her cheeks. That hood comes closer and she can start to smell his breath, to which she gags and dry heaves but does her best to keep what little food she's had down.

Headless Horseman: I commmeee...

His deep, rough voice resembling some sort of creature of the night.

Headless Horseman: To taK!e-ah...

Harsh emphasis on the "k" followed by a breath of hot air being released into her face with the "ah." Very Ultimate Warrior or Triple H when it comes to emphasizing his words.

Headless Horseman: Yourrr [he growls the "rrr" for a disturbingly long amount of time] innn...ooo...cence-ahh!

He takes his thumb, large and bulky from the thick padded glove he is wearing, and he uses it to wipe some of her tears across her cheek and smear the filth that's been caked on her face for days.

Headless Horseman: When they find your bodyyy [a very long, growling "eeeeee" sound] it will take them days to clean it up-ah!

He takes his bulky finger and points it... at himself? He leans over the helpless girl and proceeds to stick his finger into the void of blackness concealed within that hood. He shoves his hand in with a jerk and his body convulses. Thick, brown, chunky streams of reminiscence begin dumping out of his stomach and all over the young lady's face. Signs point to the Headless Horseman having had a large amount of ground beef earlier today as the chunks slowly tumble down the side of her face. She herself begins to vomit up the baby food she was force fed before. The Headless Horseman seems to be violently jamming his hand into the dark cavity of his hood, propelling more vomit as his finger mashes the back of his own throat. His vomiting is a very loud process, unlike some people who can vomit with almost no noise at all. The Headless Horseman seems to grunt and growl his vomit out, but the garbled and bubbling effect as it sprays out from around his obstructive hand is possibly the most revolting of all.

He does this for several more seconds before finally removing his finger from his throat and using his black boot to now smear and smash his vomit all over her head, face and in her hair.

Headless Horseman: You're such filth that to urinate on you at this poinT!-ah... would be to cleeean-ah...

He takes his safely gloved hand, wraps it around her throat and squeezes as vomit oozes through the cracks between his glove's fingers.

Headless Horseman: That which is not worthy to let my hound fucK!-ah!

The young victim is so weak from days of isolation that she doesn't even have the energy to react to any of this. She sits there on the ground almost in a trance, staring forward into an endless sea of possibility that is only visible to her. The vomit on her face and body -- The threatening words of the Headless Horseman -- None of it can compare to the untold horrors she has endured before this recess period.

Headless Horseman: Don't worry, child. These wounds will heal and the mental scars will fade. Your body might be virtually inoperable on many levels by the time they find you, but you'll continue to live. You'll springboard from this; become a better person... [a long hesitation] just like I did. Just like they knew I would. Ahhh [turning away from her ] if they could only see me now.

He reaches the door leading back into the building that this fenced in area is attached to and enters, grabbing his seven foot battle axe from beside the door on his way in and slowly closing the door behind him.


If this were some kind of comedy, the girl would fall over in tears and thank the lord almighty above that she's at least in a better position than Mr. Natural is in this week. Thank god she isn't Mr. Natural.


Instead, the young lady remains motionless and stares ahead as the only source of light is turned off now. To her, this sudden onset of pitch black seclusion is the most welcoming feeling in the world right now. This is comparable to the feeling Mr. Natural will experience as he's being lifted to the back after his match. He will be humiliated and his body broken but he'll be embracing that moment for everything it's worth, realizing who he's being carried away from just a few meters away.