The Game

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

The Game is a psychological thriller sure to captivate audiences. Senna is the deaf protagonist fighting for her life and safety. The antagonist? A shadow in the night, determined to claim another "trophy". A violent, gory game of cat-and-mouse that will entangle the reader until the very end of the story.

The Game (Traditional)

Hot water cascaded down Senna’s body. Her thoughts were raging. Beneath the waterfall, she carefully closed her eyes and held her breath. It had been a long week at the office, more so than usual. Her standard translator was out of town and the stand-in had butchered the understanding between her thoughts and her clients. It proved difficult to be an account manager, but even more difficult to be a deaf account manager.

Senna released a hefty sigh before stepping out from underneath the water. Opening her eyes, she took in her bathroom outside of her standing shower. The steam had accumulated in the bathroom, allowing shadows to dance like dark spirits from days past. Something caught Senna’s eyes. The darkness shifted in front of the foggy mirror that faced the bedroom door. Senna’s heart began to race as she attempted to calm her racing imagination.

“No, it’s just my imagination.” she thought. She was used to having her vision play tricks on her. That’s the downfall of not having her hearing. She had to rely on her vision for everything, and many times, vision proved to be deceptive. The pit in her stomach tightened but Senna shook it off as she draped a towel around her body. “Leave it be, Sen. You’re imagining things. No more horror movies before bed.” Senna scolded herself.

She dressed quicker than usual that night. The pit in her stomach refused to let up, but instead of trusting her gut instinct, Senna lazily crawled into bed, shutting the light off behind her. From the corner of the pitch-black room, a figure stood by waiting, waiting for her to drift peacefully into sleep. Patience was on The Figure’s side, as it had been for many hours now.

The silence was all Senna had, day-in and day-out. Nighttime was no different. In her dreams, Senna couldn't even hear her voice. It was like a silent movie, black and white, no sound, just mundane shuffling of familiar faces and places. Senna drifted into a silent dream much as she did every night, but tonight would prove to be much different.

Two Hours Later

The Figure stood stark still as Senna slept, tossing and turning. Once the coast was clear, The Figure crept from the corner. It was time to cast the bait, time to play cat and mouse. He had never toyed with a deaf woman before. He had plenty of trophies under his belt – a single mother, the Dean of a prestigious school, a cocky teenage quarterback, and a quiet bookworm as she sat beneath an old oak tree. None of these trophies gave him the satisfaction of a fight. Somehow, he knew this deaf woman would thrill him more than his other kills. He felt it in his ice-cold heart.

Senna was ripped from her sleep. A large hand firmly pressed against her mouth, restricting head movement or audible groans to be released. Fear danced in Senna's golden eyes. She fought against her attacker who was clothed in darkness and danger. It felt like her attacker was a bear, with too much body weight and not enough air to breathe. Panic began to dwell in Senna. She could not let this person kill her. She would not let this person kill her.

Without a second thought, Senna slammed her knee into her attacker. She knew from the weight of the body that this was a male figure. In the darkness of her room, seeing her attacker would prove too difficult. Senna’s knee made contact with a random part on her attacker, giving her enough time to roll off her bed, and onto the floor. Her heart raced; her thoughts discombobulated. Without thinking, Senna made a mad dash out of her room. She could feel her attacker behind her. Time was fleeting,

Senna’s attacker clutched his flank. “You bitch!” he gasped as he rolled off her and onto the bedroom floor. Anger blazed in his hollow, onyx eyes. He watched Senna dart out of the room, but not before composing himself long enough to continue the game. His prey was within his grasp. Her little antics would ensure that he walked away with a prize, possibly an ear or tongue. The irony of the situation had not escaped him.

Senna blindly ran through the shadow-filled halls, flicking lights on as she ran into the kitchen. “I need protection, a knife, something...” she thought to herself. Tears ran down her flushed cheeks as she slid onto the wooden floor. With a distinguishable oomph, Senna crashed onto the wooden floor inelegantly. The Figure heard her body drop. The kitchen! She was headed to the kitchen. "She wants to play. Good! Let the games officially begin" He trailed through the shadow-laden split-level home. The game was on.

Senna’s attacker burst through the kitchen door. His eyes searched the kitchen, the shadows, for Senna. Through crooked teeth, The Figure inhaled deeply. He could almost taste the sweat from her body. “Come out, come out, little mouse” he teased, knowing Senna could not hear him. That simple sentence caused a definitive hum throughout his body, forcing him to adjust himself through his jeans. She was close, he could feel her.

From the island, Senna watched her attacker pace through the shadows, like a jaguar on the hunt for supper. She saw the mask that adorned the left half of his face. She took in the fact that he had a ragged scar on one side of his mouth, much like The Joker from Batman. Senna could feel the vibrations of footsteps from the floorboards. She knew he was saying something. If she could feel his vibrations, could he hear her panicked breathing? Could he hear how desperate she was to flee to safety? Senna made a mental note to slow down her breath enough to not give her hiding space away.

The attacker walked around the large pine kitchen island. Senna felt the footsteps vibrating through the floorboards. She had intentionally had wooden floors installed simply for the reverberation. Senna could feel each footstep her attacker took. The footsteps were heavy with short strides. She could tell the man was a bit heavier in body weight. Again, she made a mental note of her attacker’s characteristics for use later.

Without a second thought, Senna silently crouched behind a cabinet. She needed to debilitate her attacker so she could escape and call for help. This was kill-or-be-killed. The hefty footsteps were getting closer as they rounded the island toward her hiding space. Senna had managed to snatch a chef's knife when she ran into the kitchen. Her dainty hand trembled, grasping the knife. Through clenched eyes, Senna swung wildly at The Figure. She knew contact had been made because the butt of the knife pushed back into her palm. "I got him!” Senna thought to herself.

The Figure dropped to the floor in front of her. Stumbling back against the closest cabinet, Senna gripped the knife against her trembling body. Her fingers fumbled under her as she hoisted her body into a standing position. Her fingers grazed the decorative tile along the backsplash while attempting to reach for the light switch. CLICK! It took a moment for Senna’s vision to right itself.

The only sound Senna could make out was the persistent throbbing of her heart, her blood. Gasping for air, she looked down at her attacker, however, he was not where she had left him mere moments ago. A trail of crimson was smeared into the wood. Before Senna could run, her body was wrenched back against her attacker. How he had managed to stealthily sneak behind her was a mystery all its own. Cold metal dug into Senna's neck. The mouse had been caught but the game was far from over.

The lights flickered off as The Figure dragged Senna forcefully through the halls of her home. She made every attempt to liberate herself, to make a noise, anything to distract her attacker. Her body was wearing down. Exhaustion set in as she fought back. She was losing the battle. Her best bet was to stop trying, conserve her energy, and formulate another plan of escape. Her gut was screeching at her – Do something! Bite him, kick, claw. Senna, don’t give up!

The blood rushed to Senna’s tilted head as her attacker tugged her through the halls. He threw her into the spare bedroom, her body slamming into furniture before crumbling to the floor. Her attacker loomed over her body. He switched the light on before returning to nudge Senna’s body with his foot. He saw the vulnerability in Senna’s tear-filled eyes. It made chills coarse through his body. Good. This is exactly where I want you.

Looking up, the last thing Senna saw was the rugged, chewed-up face of The Figure. Scars adorned his cheeks; chunks of flesh were missing as if torn out. His eyes were much too dark for any sane human. Too bad she couldn't hear his voice. She assumed it would have been like liquid fire, burning into her with the sheer force of an erupting volcano. Her attacker drove the chef's knife into the left cavity of her chest – once, twice, three times.

There was no rhyme, no reason for the attack. Blood dribbled down Senna’s chest, through her nightshirt onto the wooden floor in the guest room. The Figure smiled through jagged teeth. “You were beautiful when I saw you sitting in your office chair. Your smile was forced, but your eyes... They were what drew me in.” He slid the knife across her bloodied shirt toward her neck. “I wanted to see them as they drained of life. Would they be just as beautiful as they were while you were living?” he catechized, knowing she couldn’t hear him. It made him visibly hard as he combed an ensanguined hand through Senna’s mahogany curls.

“I wanted to see your world through your eyes. I wanted to hear you cry for help. Ironic, isn’t it? You have no voice, but the fear in your eyes speaks volumes.” The Figure let out a guttural laugh, before forcing the knife swiftly across Senna’s neck. He shoved her bloodied body to the floor, straddling it with malicious intent. With a final thrust of the chef’s knife into Senna’s solar plexus, The Figure took his trophy kill in. The denouement, the finale, was to pluck Senna’s precious wheat-colored orbs from their sockets. “You were the best fight yet.” He growled at the lifeless body. “Senna, Senna, Senna, your eyes said more than you ever could, kitten.”

Submitted: November 06, 2021

© Copyright 2021 manda022708. All rights reserved.

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