Sally Wilton is not a friendly gal. Quite understandable as to why she isn’t. Wilton had it rough, surrounded by negative voices and none were in her head. Poor Wilton fell into a bubble of despair, trapped inside with the taunts reverberating. A blur of people on the outside, only their voices slipping in and bouncing around the bubble and off her head, poor Wilton, she doesn’t want quiet, Wilton wants them to be silenced. Sally Wilton set off to do just that but she developed a new headache. After she kills someone, Wilton still hears their screams. She is a wily one and she figured a way to shut up them up for good. Wilton simply sews their mouth shut, stitch by stitch.
On a lovely night, where the stars are replaced with city lights, George is walking along to do some late night shopping. George likes to stroll around. As George rolls by a lovely alley, he hears a voice.
“Help me,” George looks around and gazes back into the maw of the alley. He can’t make anything out. Not even a rat squeaks, nothing but complete silence.
“Help me,” is said a little louder. George takes one step forward. He can’t see anyone or hear anything.
“Please help me. Help me please,” George is able to distinguish the voice is female and one has to help a woman in need. George continues into the darkness. He discerns a woman sitting on the ground beneath a lovely fire escape with her head down.
“Help me,” George proceeds towards her, hand stretched out. Twip! His ankle gets snatched, he flops backward, his head whacks the pavement, and he is hoisted up as the fire escape ladder rattles down. George is hanging upside down caught in a snare. Wilton stays on the ground and giggles. She caresses her kit which is set beside her.
“Help me, help me, help me, help me, help me, help-help-help…” She keeps chanting until it sounds like a hiccup. Wilton presses her hands to her head briefly. She rises up, face still downcast. She hiccups and giggles. Wilton staggers to him, one hand on her ear and the other holding a hammer. George’s head is still throbbing. George, helpless and swaying, sees Wilton is holding a meat tenderizer.
George is ready to shriek but at the intake of breath Wilton surges forward to deliver a wicked thump against his throat. George is coughing and spluttering spit. Wilton hops back and tilts her head back taking in the silence. Her ears prick up at George’s rasping breathes. She moves toward him. Wilton gently directs his face to her. She puts the meat tenderizer to her lips.
“Shhhhhhhhhhhhh, you’re loud enough as is,” Wilton pulls back her arm and smacks him in the throat again. Her repeated strikes getting more vicious with each thwack, tenderizing his windpipe until she is convinced his vocal cords are crushed. Panting, Wilton walks over to her sitting spot to pick up her lovely sewing kit.
