‘Terrifier 2’ is one of the wildest slashers of the past decade, and the novelization of Chapter 2 sends horror fans into a frenzy as fans eagerly await the theatrical release of ‘Terrifier 3’ i am ready. This novel is written by Tim Wagoner. variety We’ve released an exclusive excerpt of perhaps the film’s most brutal scene, Art the Clown’s prolonged torture of high school student Ally.
Pre-order the book here and read an excerpt below.
The patio door was shattered and glass was scattered on the floor. The glass had fallen on the inside, not the outside. That means someone broke it from the outside. And someone might still be inside.
She then heard footsteps and turned in their direction to see the clown come into the kitchen, grab a glass from the cupboard, and go to the sink to drink water from the tap. As casually as if I lived here. He drained the entire glass at once and placed it on the counter. Apparently unaware of Ally’s presence, he picked up a pair of objects placed on the other side of the sink. When he turned around, I saw him holding a scalpel in his left hand and surgical scissors in his right. Their homes did not have these tools. Her stomach twisted when she realized he had brought them. Then he saw her standing there, staring at him, with a sense of faint fear. He grinned and moved the scissors a few times. Sikushik!
“No! No!!”
She turned and ran furiously.
Her first impulse was animalistic…Go to your hideout and hide! So she ran towards the stairs. She was almost there when Art came – and it was Art, the real thing, the murderer, the monster of Sienna’s dreams. That’s what she believed now – she stepped in front of him, teeth bared and eyes wild. He walked out to the other side of the kitchen, trying to shoo her away.
“No!” she squealed.
She jumped up the stairs faster than she had ever done in her life. she heard it thud thud thud Art was wearing large boots on the back stairs and felt a vibration in his feet. When she reached the second floor, she ran into her room.
Her cell phone was on the dresser, but she didn’t go get it. Art was right behind her, waving his scalpel in the air and trying to cut her. She grabbed a white bookshelf that contained various items that were important to her. It was a seashell I collected in Myrtle Beach when I was 7 years old. A snow globe that my father gave me for Christmas. The last thing his father had with him before he left. The cross stitch sampler Sienna made for her said: Good luck, girl!;2nd place trophy in middle school spelling bee contest; And most precious of all is a framed photo of Sienna, Brooke, and her wading in a wading pool as children. She lowered the shelf in front of Art, hoping to trip him or at least slow him down for a few seconds. At this moment, she didn’t care that her treasure fell on the floor. All she cared about was staying alive as long as possible.
“No!” she cried again.
The bookshelf fell, but Art saw it in time and was not shocked.
Ally ran to the window, opened it all the way, and started crawling through, trying to get out into the open air. She hoped that when she hit the grass, she wouldn’t be injured so badly that she wouldn’t be able to get up and continue running. She knew it was a crazy idea with little chance of success, but it was all she wanted.
Before she could jump free, Art jumped over the ledge, grabbed her by the back of her sweater, and pulled her away from the window. He spun her around towards the bed, pushed her face down onto the mattress, grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back. In one quick movement, Art drew the scalpel blade in a straight line down the left side of his face, cutting from his forehead to his chin, slicing his eyeball in the process. Allie felt her face burn, blood gushing from her wound and running down the front of her sweater. She screamed and Art held her for a moment as if in pain and shock, then threw her to the floor.
She rolled onto her side and tried to crawl away from Art, wanting to keep the clown in her sights because she needed to know what was going to happen next. How many times did Brooke tell her that she was overthinking it? Even now, with one eye busted out and bleeding like a stuck pig, she couldn’t stop thinking.
She couldn’t stop screaming either. A natural sound came from her throat, adding a high-pitched sound to Art’s attack.
She reached the wardrobe and stood up. However, she hears the crunching sound of surgical scissors and realizes that Art has swapped one weapon for another. She saw his reflection in the dresser mirror as he approached, and the look of maniacal glee on his face made him look more demonic than human.
“No! No!”
Art grabbed the back of her hair and held her head steady so that she was facing the mirror. When she got a good look at the scalpel incision for the first time, it didn’t seem real. How many times in her life had she looked in the mirror and looked at herself? Hundreds? Thousands? And her body was always smooth and unmarked – except for the occasional pimple, of course. However, when I looked back, I didn’t recognize that face. It wasn’t just the deep scalpel cuts and the blood on her mouth and chin. It was a wild, irrational fear that dwelled in her remaining eyes.
i am an animalshe thought. The prey was ripe for slaughter.
As if Art heard her thoughts, he slid the scissors into Allie’s tender scalp and began making quick cuts. She screamed–“Ah! Ah! Ah!”–as he worked, the blood from the new wound ran down her face and into her left eye, turning the world red; Her mouth was filled with the coppery taste of life. When the art was finished, he pulled her hair with surprising force. Once, twice… and then her scalp peeled away with an unpleasant wet suction sound.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, red and hazy. The top of her head was hairless, raw, and bloody.
Art threw her to the floor and cut off her clothes with scissors, just as doctors do with seriously injured patients in emergency rooms. She thought he would cut off her bra and panties as well, but the clown didn’t seem interested in that. that A kind of attack. Instead, he grabbed her upper arm, pulled her to her feet, and threw her onto the bed once again.
She landed on her stomach, and before she could move, Art placed one hand on her shoulder to hold her down and began cutting a horizontal line across her back, just below the bra strap. Her screams had not stopped even now, and the pain had reached an unimaginable height in a human body. It was interesting when I thought about it. She was going to be a doctor and here she is being amputated with surgical instruments. Maximum irony. Maybe Art had planned it that way in some way.
He stopped cutting and stabbed her several times in the back. The impact was strong and the cuts were deep. He tugged at her flesh, pulling the belt off and tossing it to the side. Then, grabbing the top of her left arm with one hand and her wrist with the other, he pulled, breaking her arm at the joint. He starts bending his forearms back and forth, pushing, pushing, pushing further than he planned.
Then he pulled so hard that the forearm tore from her body and blood spurted from the wound. She cried out in pain, and inside herself, in a far, dark place beyond the reach of even this much suffering, a thought occurred to her.
I…I’m sorry…I…complimented…your…fucking…dress…
Art threw her arm to the floor, then rolled her onto her back and grabbed her right hand, raising her arm. He took her ring finger and little finger with his left hand, her thumb and index finger with his right hand, and pulled them in opposite directions. Allie’s unblemished eyes were filled with blood and tears, but her vision cleared for a moment and she saw Art’s eyes. They were dull, glassy, empty, and completely inhuman. Lizard eyes. Shark eyes…
Her arm was torn from the middle to the elbow, and the pain now reached the deepest parts of her heart. She was sure she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear herself anymore.
She looked up at the ceiling and saw the ornaments she had made herself that she looked at every night before falling asleep. It was a golden geometric pattern that outlined a heart. There were three things cut out of it. happywith a small heart on the bottom of the first P. piece of paper with words written on it Cute and pink! It’s printed on it. And finally, here are three black and white photos of Allie, Sienna, and Brooke taken in a photo booth at Coney Island last summer.
I love you…all of you…
Art then moved the scalpel back and forth across her chest six times, leaving lines of blood splattered in the air with each section. When it was over, he jumped off the bed and trotted out of the room like a performer about to leave the stage. Allie rolled off the bed and fell to the floor, her body ablaze with agony. She barely felt the impact. She began to crawl, spreading her middle arm and pulling herself forward with all her might, pushing herself with her legs. Every inch of her body was covered in blood, and the bedding and carpet were drenched in red wetness.
“No,” she breathed softly, the words barely audible. “No, no, no…”
She had no destination or plan. The girl who was thinking all the time can no longer think. Competent of thought. She was just a collection of skin, nerves, and organs, many of them damaged or missing, a broken, malfunctioning flesh machine that moved for a single reason: to escape pain. . But that was impossible, because she It was The pain now. There was nothing else left.
At that time, she heard a noise. It was a series of musical sounds that I couldn’t make out at first, but somehow sounded familiar. They continued to play, the sound breaking through the pain and activating a part of Allie’s heart. phone. Someone is calling. Sienna? Something stirred within her, a small spark of hope sprouting. If only she could reach me on her cell phone…
The device was placed on her dresser and she got up halfway and ran around on the carpet, moving as fast as her injured body would allow. Don’t hang up, don’t hang up…
Then Art ran back into the room, grinning happily, an open bottle of bleach in one hand and a container of salt in the other.
no!
Art poured bleach onto Allie, making sure to cover her entire body. When he finished, he threw the empty bottle aside and literally poured salt into Allie’s wound.
Allie then realized that she had only one. thought She experienced the ultimate pain. She realized that pain is infinite and there are always new levels to discover.
It was strange, but even though Art had been silent for so long, and I hadn’t even heard his heavy breathing, I felt like I could hear him laughing now…
And please smile…
and smile.
Then he poured salt into his hand, slapped it on the raw area of her back, and rubbed it hard. Then he did the same to the top of her head and to the left side of her face, a long vertical cut, the first one he had made. Then, just to be sure, he stuck his fingers into her rough eyes, grabbed the flesh around her eye sockets, and tore the skin off the side of her face completely.
And Allie experienced another level.
