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A group of 18-year-old girls share a room in a modern boarding school that was once a nunnery. At a party in the forest, they meet two young and attractive men. But one night a bestial murder happens, and on a wall was written in blood:
HER FLESH IS UNDEFILED AND PURE, YET HER HEART IS MINE FOR SURE. - THE DEVIL
Tom Knocker is a pseudonym of the German author Thomas Neukum / Thomas Newcome.
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Slaughterhouse of Virgins
New Edition of the Horror Crime Novella
BookRix GmbH & Co. KG81371 MunichInfo
Tom Knocker
SLAUGHTERHOUSE
OF VIRGINS
NEW EDITION OF THE
HORROR CRIME NOVELLA
Copyright 2022
PROLOGUE
A few years ago
Her foster mother slapped Evelyn on the back of her head with the bulging leather handbag as they entered the grounds of the state boarding school for girls. The mid-forties girl's high heels drummed on the asphalt courtyard like a sloppy marching band.
"Forward, and shut up!" she hissed.
The dark doe eyes of the girl, who was wearing a jacket that had become too small, looked full of anxious yet ardent hope at the white stone façade with its many round-arched windows. A mixed forest rustled in several directions. Behind it was the city, which was as foreign to Evelyn as everything else.
Involuntarily, her hand clenched harder around the old handle of the checked suitcase as she strode through the front door with her foster mother. An open-hearted spinach quail - the caretaker or secretary - led them both into the headmaster's office.
"Ah, I am Frau Doktor Rosenfels! Welcome," the well-built director stood up from her office chair. She wore a light blouse and a chocolate brown skirt that matched her upswept hair. Through her modern glasses she eyed the foster mother, who greeted her with a slimy smile. Then Dr Rosenfels turned to the girl, "So you're Evelyn?"
She nodded.
"And you want to visit our boarding school?"
"Yes, she really wants to," croaked the foster mother.
"The question was not for you."
Although the headmistress had already agreed in writing to the admission, she wanted to make sure that the poor girl's needs were not overlooked. Evelyn had so far attended the sixth of a Hölderlin grammar school. But her application had been glossed over, or rather cut short, by the full-grown harpy next to her. Dr Rosenfels knew this for sure because the Children and Youth Welfare Office had spoken to her about the girl. Nevertheless, the responsible officials could not uncover all the adversities through their routine checks on the surrogate parents.
Evelyn's biological mother had been manic-depressive. She had become involved with the wrong men and committed suicide.
As a result, the little girl came into a foreign household at the age of four, which at that time still seemed to fulfil all conditions properly. Her eloquent foster mother had suffered two miscarriages herself. But who was to guarantee whether her motives had not included the state care money?
Her husband worked in a renowned liposuction clinic. But firstly, he only served as an assistant, for example to dispose of the skimmed buff asses, and secondly, he was stingy. How annoying! For his greedy wife, on the other hand, developed a passion for collecting, and this included more cold objects than her almost fetishistic handbag.
Evelyn usually lay on the kitchen or living room floor with the shaggy dog who was her only friend. One day, however, he was running around the rooms like crazy and barking. The man yelled at the woman because he couldn't find his amphetamines in the cluttered house. To make up for it, the foster mother called Evelyn a vulgar name and told her to help with the search! This made the girl feel like a family disappointment and scapegoat. But when the dog died, whimpering and convulsing, it was clear that he had eaten the pills.
Evelyn still did not say a word.
But the director had not taken a doctorate in psychology for nothing after her teacher training.
"Did you know that this boarding school used to be a nunnery?" she asked. "Such unreasonable customs as vows of silence prevailed here. But today we are a cosmopolitan educational institution where girls are educated to become emancipated women. Do you know the meaning of the word 'emancipated'?"
"It means, um, self-reliant and liberated," Evelyn replied shyly.
"Bravo! So, would you like to join us?"
"Yes, I would like that."
The foster mother sighed with relief. With a better check by the Youth Welfare Office, she would not have been allowed to see the child less often, but not on a single weekend. The insidious irony was that it was precisely this break in contact that would turn out to be her intention. Only she would still be skimming off the care allowance for a while, albeit reduced.
"Then I'll show you to your room now, Evelyn," Dr Rosenfels opened the office door and asked the lacquered raven mother with cool politeness, "Would you like to look at it too?"
"Oh, it must be quite heavenly. Thanks a million. Goodbye, my emancipated darling," the foster mother pressed her disgusting lipstick on Evelyn's forehead and stalked off, never to be seen again.
Stupid buckle, thought the headmistress.
As she climbed a marble staircase with the girl, Evelyn had to pull up a shoulder to keep her large suitcase from bumping against the steps. Amazingly, Dr Rosenfels personally offered her: "I'll be happy to take your luggage."
"I'm not giving up that easily."
Regardless, Evelyn was already beginning to wonder how eerily quiet it was. Upstairs, the laughter of young women buzzed through the corridor. But as soon as the group saw the headmistress with the new pupil, they all wished her a good day and walked past. The walls were lined with solid wood doors.
"You will share your room with three other girls," explained Dr Rosenfels. "Their former classmate has left the boarding school."
