Many people would wonder why a middle-aged man like Paul Sheldon was doing here with a woman like Annie Wilkes. Was he visiting a relative? Or perhaps he’s living here with this woman for reference for his next book? I can tell you now that Sheldon’s a very unfortunate man. Many months ago in the winter, Paul completed his new book. Driving home in a snowstorm had been disastrous for the poor guy! His car had slipped on the snowy track and tumbled down the hill, knocking Paul unconscious, shattering both his wretched legs, and very nearly killing him! Fortunately (or unfortunately, you choose) his ‘biggest fan’ that psychotic bitch, aka Annie Wilkes, pulled him from the wreck and nursed him back to health.
Many people would also see these circumstances as odd, but not for Annie! Nope! Every evening she had waited outside his lodge, waiting – knowing ol’ Paulie would be finishing his novel soon. After he finished, he’d have one cigarette (he’d quit smoking ages ago) and one glass of champagne. Tradition.
That was all in the past now… Those many months had just dragged by. ‘Why hasn’t anyone found me yet?!’ Paul would often question himself in frustration. His legs hurt, his arm hurt, his chest hurt, and most of all he was terrified. Not only that, but he missed his family. Surely they were missing him, right? Then why haven’t they found him yet?
‘Hey, Paul.’ A voice floated down the corridor, waking him from his thoughts. Flat, listless, lifeless. Great. Just excellent.
‘Yes, Annie? What’s wrong?’ Paul cooed, sugar-coating his words in desperation. Madam Wilkes can be pretty dangerous when she gets depressed.
‘It’s over.’
‘What?’
‘We’ve been found.’ Yanking the door handle violently, Annie shuffled into Paul’s make-shift bedroom/torture chamber. Paul noticed her red-rimmed eyes were half lidded out of tiredness, and her mousy hair was tousled and greasy. Obviously she hadn’t bathed for days. Doing a full body scan, Paul’s heart stopped at her hands.
In her arms was a large chainsaw, caressed lovingly by her big, beefy hands. She smiled down at him as sweet as the Virgin Mary with a rather poisonous twist.
‘Don’t be scared, sweetie.’ Annie sighed, running a hand through his hair and hugging his face to her chest, tigerishly. ‘This will all be over soon…shhh…’
‘N-no, Annie! Pluh-PLEASE! Can’t I just hide in the basement?! They’ll never know I’m here!!’ Sheldon begged, tears running down Annie’s starchy blouse. He could smell her BO mixed with disgusting food stains and masked with a flowery perfume.
Annie said nothing.
‘PLEASE!!’ Paul interrupted the silence, not caring for modesty or pride. ‘…Please, just a little longer… I’ll do whatever it takes.’
‘I’m sorry, Paulie. I really am.’ The ex-nurse whispered. Closing her eyes she gently kissed Paul’s sweaty forehead. At that exact moment, she pulled out a syringe concealed in her heavy skirt and plunged it into Paul’s arm before he could feebly push her away.
The next time Paul awoke, he opened his eyes to the sight of his own collapsing body spray painting the walls with his own vital fluid.
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