"Authors Note - Okaai, this is my first novel via
this account but hey, hopefully you'll like it.
The picture, if you see one, is not mine, it's someone elses but I
thought it would suit the story. I would love it if you became a
fan/liked/comment on this story because all feedback is good
feedback. I hope you enjoy it and feel free to add suggestions to
the story's plot. Anyway, enjoy!" ><<br />
Every night, when
I'm on my own, my mind always decides to play tricks on me,
torment me with that fateful night. If I'm lucky, I can,
sometimes, still hear my wheezing breath, my murmurs to God for
some sort of help, then my sounds always fade, and I hear the
determined voice of someone else, deep and luring. It is always
"Come out, come out
wherever you are!" He calls, his eyes scanning through the
alleyways that surrounded our estate.
I don't come out. I
never do. I simply stay there, crouching behind some sort of dark
object that's covered by shadows. I close my eyes like always,
trying to stop my hands from shaking with some sort of tingling
sensation while my legs grow faint on me. I squeeze my eyes
harder when it doesn't work, I pretend as if I'm at home. I slow
my breathing down a little until it's become so faint that I
hardly hear it. Then, like the pattern it follows, silence
surrounds me. His footsteps have halted somewhere and I hope to
whoever is in power that he is gone. I swear a little and then
move into weird position until I'm half standing, half
Shakily, I pull
myself up, so that I'm in view, scanning around myself for the
man who'd followed me from the park. Fuck! I was never going
there again. Then slowly, everything becomes surreal, like a
movie were someone's escaping from a masked murderer because
that's the moment when I turn around, thinking that he's finally
gone. That's the moment when relief washes around me as I exhale.
That's the moment when I see his face looking down on me. I
scream but it doesn't sound very well because soon, I have some
gloved hand shoved against my mouth, the force is stopping me
from screaming properly.
I can still feel the
taste of the leather, as if I'd just taken a bite out of the
couch or something.
Struggling, he drags
me back to the alleyway; his hand clamped down across my mouth,
while the other encircles my waist and forcefully heaves me up.
He stops after he reaches the pavement and continues to try to
yield me. Looking back, I can hardly grasp why I wasn't safe.
There where houses along the same street, they where further up
of course but, but surely someone must have heard my agonising
reaches a new high when I witness a black van swing around the
corner; its speed is quite fast to look like a random passerby. I
struggle even more then.
Twisting around, I'm
able to escape from the gloved man, the moment the driver of the
van has stopped the engine and is diving out of the doorway to
help. Gasping, I take to running again, having no choice but to
edge my bets and wander into the shadowy alleys. Then…the bit I
always regret comes up.
My hand scrapes
against the cement that creates the sides of the alleyway while I
stumble to find the side of it, darkness not helping. I'm
screaming now, forgetting about remaining silent, as it seems
they would find me anyway. I sprint to the end of the alleyways
and reach the clearing, my eyes blurring with tears. No one has
come to save me. As I run, my mind thinks about just giving up,
no one is going to help, so why not?
Almost giving in, my
pace slows a little, before speeding right up.
My dad was a cop, he
was the head of his little station and so I had heard of the
recent killings that had started back up:
after five years: raped and murdered!
and fatally injured, teenager dies in
as a woman, missing for three years, is found
local shop-owner assaulted and
I could see my
headline boldly in my own head, 'Police chief's grief as daughter
disappears.' That's what spurred me on. Now, I wish it
As I continue to
run, my eyes go straight to the nearest thing, a young man, no
older than twenty-two walking a dog. I scream for help one last
time as he thankfully notices. He gaze shocked at first before it
becomes one of worry and fear. Running over to me, he and his dog
stop me. His dog circles around us as he grips my shoulders and
asks what happened. Through my tears, I start to tell him…then,
his eyes grow wide and his body falls limp. I shake with fear as
I look up and see the gloved man. In his hand, he holds a
That's when I give
up. Tears stream down my face as I surrender to my knees, instead
of fighting I just plead the same load of shit that the man has
probably heard a thousand times. I back away slightly before he
crouches down and grips my ankle, heaving my body across the
ground, which was concrete, closer to him. Then, silently, he
holds up something, a needle? I try to wriggle away but it's too
late, the needle is already in me and well, I'm already fading
fast into the dark abyss. I fight with consciousness just long
enough to see a black van pull up on this street