Chapter 5: Chapter 4

Kristal Anderson

The night was cold.

It was almost painful. The cold seemed to be penetrating right into my bones with every blow of the wind.

It was teeth chattering cold. And I just had to make the genius decision of not bringing a jacket. The thin fabric of my work blouse did little to protect my upper body and neither did my skirt.

I was nearly home though, I had to push through.

Everything was feeling eerie. The cold air combined with the emptiness of the roads was not a good combination. In fact that sounded like the perfect setting for a serial killer to act. Luckily there was no one in sight. Well at least not anymore.

There was a man.

He wore a full black outfit; a black hoodie that was only visible through the hood covering his head and most of his face, a black coat on top of it, black pants and black combat boots. His hands deep into the pockets of his coat.

He looked like the textbook description of a serial killer. He was walking on the other side of the street at a pace eerily similar to my own, he was taking the same turns that I was.

My body was consumed by a cold sweat the moment it clicked in my brain; I was being followed. This was how I died. My shaky hand slowly slid into my purse and I clutched onto the pepper spray bottle I carried with me.

Deep breaths. I kept telling myself over and over again, I needed to remain calm somehow. I knew that if he– when he– attacked and I was this shaken up I would freeze up and probably get brutally murdered and or kidnapped without a fight.

I managed to calm my breathing but when I looked to the side he was gone. I looked behind me, nothing. He had just disappeared.

Maybe he took a turn without me noticing. Maybe not all creepy looking men wearing a serial killer looking outfit were out to kill you. I tried to convince myself. Maybe he was just cold and he was just extremely prepared unlike myself.

My hand still had a tight grip on the pepper spray because part of me was convinced that he would just pop up in front of me or behind me. But he never did.

For the next few turns he was still nowhere to be seen. He had truly disappeared.

I stood in front of my house and I made sure to do a few extra takes around the neighborhood to ensure that no one was behind me, not a car or person or truck, anything that could be considered suspicious. Nothing. Nothing at all.

I walked in the house locking the door behind me just in case before I placed see my keys on the key holder.

"Aunt Jenna, I'm home!" I slid off my heels and placed them on the rack changing into my slippers.

Aunt Jenna's usual upbeat response never came through. In fact, I was met by complete and utter silence. So I tried again, "Aunt Jenna?" No response.

I urged my feet to start moving as I forced myself deeper into the house. She was usually home by the time I got home from work, and if she wasn't she would tell me without a shadow of a doubt. But she had left no texts, no missing phone calls. Nothing.

Worry started to consume me. My legs felt like jelly as they struggled to move across the wooden floor that led me to the living room.

My blood went cold the moment I stepped into the room. There she sat. Tied to a chair with rope on both hands and legs. A cloth in between her teeth muffling the sobs she let out the moment her eyes met mine.

Then I noticed the man. The same man who I'd seen earlier, the same man who I was so very sure was following me, the same man who disappeared out of thin air was standing behind my aunt Jenna. The hood of his hoodie was low enough to cover most of his face.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. My feet were glued to the floor.

He slid his hand out of his pocket and removed the hood covering his face.

I felt my heart drop to the balls of my feet as I stared at the face of the man who took part in conceiving me. The man who was supposed to protect me and show me that good man existed and love me unconditionally. The man who I hadn't seen in 15 years.

"Missed me, little one?"  His deep husky voice echoed in my ears leaving a ringing sensation behind. Little one was what he used called me. Hearing it again after so long brought a wave of shivers down my spine. That nickname felt warm and cozy before he did the unthinkable, that is.

Aunt Jenna's sobs grew hysterical the moment he opened his mouth.

"Why are you here? What do you want from us?" I surprised myself by saying, my voice coming out surprisingly controlled, completely contrasting the way I was really feeling inside.

"It's quite simple you see, I'm here to finish what I started 15 years ago," He pulled his other hand out of his pocket revealing a gun that he swiftly aimed at Aunt Jenna's temple.

I took a step forward but quickly stopped myself realizing that it wasn't exactly a smart decision, "No!" I held my hand up towards him in an attempt to stop him, "You have no right to hurt her, kill me, do whatever you want with me but leave her out of this, she has nothing to do with this," I told him trying to keep my voice as controlled as I possibly could but the lump in my throat made that nearly impossible.

He stared at me. He stared at me for a few solid moments almost as if he were actually considering what I had said before he laughed. He simply laughed in my face displaying his yellowed teeth, "She has everything to do with this,"

"Kris run!" Her muffled scream came almost as if she could sense what was going to happen next.

He pulled the trigger right at her temple, her body going limp almost instantly. Blood. Blood everywhere.

Blood was rushing out from her head. Blood began rushing out from the ceiling and down the walls like a tsunami that was slowly breaking in.

Air wasn't reaching my lungs. There was an 80% chance that I would die from suffocation before he could even think about shooting me.

The blood rushing down the walls like a waterfall had reached our feet, he was aiming the gun at me. I didn't know what to focus on first.

I turned on my heels and pleaded with my wobbly legs to cooperate so that I could run for my life. I made it barely halfway through the room before he spoke again, "Say hello to your mother for me,"

I was met with a sharp pain in my back, a pain so deep and excruciating, all sensations in my body became none existent all focus was on the pain that seemed to get worst with every breath I attempted to take. I found myself gasping for air but was met with none.

I looked down to see the front of my blouse completely soaked in my own blood, the bullet had gone through me.

I couldn't breathe.

I was going to die.

I was going to die.

I was going to die.

I gasped sitting up straight, my hand instinctively going to the spot on my stomach where the bullet had gone through. Nothing. No blood, no bullet wound.

It all felt so real.

The pain that ripped through my back and travelled through every vessel of my body, I could almost feel it.

The black oversized shirt I'd slept in was a couple shades darker from the sweat coating it. I ran a hand through my now greasy and damp hair as I tried to control my breathing. I was in my room, I was safe, no one would harm me here, it was just a bad dream. I kept telling myself over and over again.

I needed a shower. A cold one. Not just to rid myself of the sweat covering my skin from head to toe but to rid my mind of the images that haunted me in the form of that recurring nightmare.

My feet met the cold material of my wooden floor before I managed to pull the weight of my body up. I reached over and grabbed my phone from my nightstand to see the time.

2:39 A.M

I headed to my bathroom and turned on the lights, averting my eyes away from my reflection in the mirror knowing that I would regret it if I looked.

The moment I felt the cold water beginning to cascade down my naked body, a sense of relief washed over me. Though it was merely momentary. Fragmented images of the dream appeared before my very eyes with my every blink.

It had been a while since I had that dream, for a while I even thought – for a while of naivety on my part– that they had somehow vanished from my mind.

But today marked a special day. Today marked my 100 day anniversary of being inside. It was no surprise that my brain would want to leave me a nice little reminder of what would happen if I decided to go back to living my normal life.

Truth be told, I couldn't quite picture a world where my father being out of prison and me living a normal life could coexist in peace. One of us had to be sacrificed and get the short end of the stick, for the sake of the woman who gave up everything for me; I voluntarily put myself up for the task.

In that very moment a realization dawned on me; for as long as he was alive I would be stuck between these four walls. That could be years from now.

My hand reached out and gripped onto the shower wall as an immense amount of dread flowed through me making my knees go weak.

Tears swelled up in my eyes before I finally broke down. I let the tears fall, I let them flow with the water. Not long after my cries turned into sobs, my breaths had turned into gasps for air, my legs could no longer support my body weight bringing me to my knees.

I was on my knees and I sobbed; I sobbed because I missed my mother, I sobbed because the life of the woman who took me in as her own was in danger because of me, I sobbed because of my father, because this was the father I was cursed with, because my own father murdered my mother, because my own father was out to get me, out to finish the job and murder me and the woman who was trying to protect me.

And most importantly; I sobbed because I knew that even within the safety of these four walls I would never be completely immune to his inevitable attacks. He could come in at any moment through that door and shoot us both dead.

3:56 A.M.

I had been in that shower for over an hour and I wish I could say that a whole hour of an uninterrupted, heart wrenching sob fest made me feel better. But I ended up feeling worse. The feeling of complete and utter helplessness clawing at my insides consumed me completely.

Sobbing for over an hour did nothing but drain me of any energy I had left in my body, so much so that I stayed in my robe with a towel wrapped around my soaked hair.

A glance at my bed was all it took for an instant sense of uneasiness to rise and rest at the pit of my stomach telling me that I wouldn't be able to go back to bed. I walked over to my bookshelves retrieving one of the many books I was currently reading.

I walked over to my reading nook and took a seat flipping to the page marked by my bookmark. Books had become my biggest companion, being able to escape my own reality and be in the shoes of a different person experiencing life, experiencing love. It was bittersweet in a way because I knew damn well that those experiences were far from my reality.

I pushed my curtains open wanting to witness the sunrise that would occur in just a few hours. Before I could avert my eyes back to the book sitting on my lap something else caught my attention outside.

The neighbor. Mr model dude is the nickname I decided to give him. Cause god, does he look like one.

He had been living in that house for a week now. The day after our first encounter– I could feel my cheeks flush from the embarrassment the moment I remember how stupid I must have looked to him– he was coming back from a run looking devilishly beautiful under the glow of the sun and I was seated by my window like I always was and when he reached his driveway his eyes moves up the length of my house to my window. Almost as if he were expecting me to be there.

A smile spread across his lips the moment our eyes met and he waved. This time I did not cower and I waved back. His smile grew into a grin and I felt my lips morph into a smile of their own.

I've forced myself to minimize the time I spent watching him, forced myself to keep my eyes away from the window directly across from my own which just so happens to be his bedroom window. Because the more I watched, the more intrigued I became.

But as much as I tried to refrain from allowing my eyes to move in the direction of his house, they always found their way over there.

I've noticed that he enjoys running– which beats me, I couldn't think of a reason why someone would willingly run. Every single morning without a miss he would put on a show for the entire neighborhood wearing nothing but loose shorts and headphones.

Now there he stood in his driveway at four in the morning speaking to a man. The man had his back turned to me making it impossible to see much of his face but the way the moonlight allowed me to catch glimpses of his salt and pepper hair that was gelled back to perfections. He was an older man.

His dad maybe? Or an older friend?

I quickly discarded the second option when I noticed that from the look on the neighbor's face, and their body language, they couldn't be good ol' pals chatting it up at the crack of dawn. They were arguing. Though it wasn't loud enough for me to hear through my shut window.

I watched as he took a step towards the older man –who was just a few inches shorter than him– with his fists clenched into balls almost as if he were about to strike at the older man.

My heart rate quickened in anticipation as I turned my whole body to face the window without even realizing. I watched as he said a few more things to the older man with a deep scowl on his face. If looks could kill that, that older man would have now turned into nothing but a limp sack of meat by now.

The older man took a step back before walking over to the luxurious car that I hadn't even noticed parked in the driveway. Just then I got a glimpse at his side profile, the structure of his nose was similar to that of the neighbor. That had to be his father.

He stood in his driveway watching the luxurious car pull away, his chest heaved as anger seemed to be coming off of him in waves. He stayed there until the car was out of view before he walked back inside slamming his front door so hard that I could hear it through my shut window.

I stared in disbelief trying to decipher what the fuck happened. That had to be his father and unless that was some type of isolated incident, they did not seem to have a great relationship. I couldn't help but wonder why.

The lights to his bedroom turning on caught my attention and in a matter of seconds he was at his window with an unlit cigarette between his lips. Just as he reached over to open his window our eyes met.

The look on his face told me that he was just as– if not more– angry as he was down in his driveway when he spoke to that man. He stared at me. I stared back.

His hand stayed frozen in its spot with the window opened halfway. His lips didn't curl into their usual smile. In fact, they did not move at all as he stared at me probably realizing that I had seen what happened in the driveway.

I felt the warmth sneak up my neck onto my face that grew infinitely hotter with every passing moment. He had caught me watching him again.

I forced my lips into a tight smile before I held my hand out and waved.

He simply stared at me.

He didn't return the smile or the wave.

This time it was him who shut his curtain in my face.

Thank you so much for reading!<3

Love,

J