[ WP ] A PTSD support group for those who survive horror movie scenarios .

It was held in the small basement of a church. A single flickering light swayed above the metal chairs. There was talk of maybe bringing a few candles or flowers to brighten up the place but they never appeared. 
 
 Linda stood first, pressing back her dirty straw hair. She was wearing a bra today, for which everyone was grateful. Stan, in the back, groaned as she approached the podium. His hands shook so much he'd sat on them. 
 
 `` Ahem,'' she said. `` My name is Linda and I am a survivor.'' 
 
 `` Hello, Linda,'' they spoke as one. 
 
 `` It all started in high school. This man with a football mask started picking off the students. He killed the cheerleaders. He killed the tennis team. He even killed the lunch ladies! But not me. Me, he left like an old pile of garbage.'' 
 
 Her hands gripped the wood of the podium. She'd bitten her nails down to the quick and some had started to ooze blood. 
 
 `` Then five years later I was doing okay. Working the perfume counter at a department store. Some crazy man dressed as Santa came alone and slaughtered everyone but me. He even walked past me once, looked at me, and then walked away. It's bullshit, I tell you. Bullshit!'' 
 
 Stan took his head in his shaking hands. `` Shut up! No one wants to hear this anymore.'' 
 
 Linda sniffed. `` Just last year there was the car hijacking murderer. Stopped my car and everything. I held on to his ankles until he shook me off, the bastard.'' 
 
 `` Do you want me to murder you, Linda? I can come to your house and stab you. Will that make you happy?!'' Stan shouted. 
 
 `` Threats! That's against the rules! I motion for a sanction!'' Linda said. 
 
 Gerald, who'd been quietly pretended not to moderate the group, stood up. 
 
 `` You're going to have to leave, Stan. No talk of knives or murdering each other. You know the rules. We'll see you next week.'' 
 
 Stan's teeth cut into his bottom lip. He left, wondering where he might purchase a hockey mask.
