Ninety. That was the total number of minutes Lauren had actually spent sleeping last night, give or take a few. Every time she woke up – either from thinking she had heard a noise, or because she was sleeping so lightly – she was still gripping the knife close to her body. She hadn’t moved an inch. She didn’t dare.

Fortunately, no one came to her house during the night. But this didn’t calm her. How could she be calm? Whoever that man was had seen her, he knew what she looked like and would probably do everything he could to find her, to silence her.

When the girl thought it was safe enough to leave her bed – she didn’t expect for him to come looking for her in broad day light – she placed the knife of her empty bedside table and softly walked to the bathroom across the hall. Even though it was unnecessary to do so, she tried to be as quiet as she could, fearing someone would jump out.

Lauren had a very quick shower. Her fingers trembled as she washed her hair; she couldn’t calm down, she was far too afraid. Although the teen had only yesterday been thinking how great it would be to live alone, Lauren wanted more than anything for her parents to be here right now. They would keep her safe.

After her shower, Lauren followed the boring and tedious routine of drying, dressing, and brushing her hair. She glanced at her clock to see that it nearly eight-thirty; she was due to be at the library for work in forty-five minutes. Of course, Lauren wouldn’t be leaving the house today, she just couldn’t.

The still shaky brunette grabbed the home phone when she reached the bottom of the stairs, dialling the number of the library. After three long rings, a familiar voice answered, which had Lauren feeling ever just so slightly calmer, “Hi Joy, it’s Lauren… I’m not good…” She spoke in a quiet voice, as she normally would do, trying to keep her voice from cracking, “No, I’m feeling very unwell today… I won’t be in today, no… I’ll ring again tomorrow if I don’t feel better… Thank you, bye.”

She ran her hands through her damp hair, taking deep breaths. Her eyes were closed as she tried to collect her thoughts. She knew what she had to do, and she mentally kicked herself for not doing it as soon as she got home last night. Lauren needed to call the police to tell them what she had seen… but she was so sick with worry that the killer would find her, that she kept debating with herself to do it. The girl knew none of this made sense.

As the hours of the day went by, and night fell upon the east coast, Lauren started to fear for her life again. Why didn’t she pack a bag and stay somewhere else, somewhere that man couldn’t find her? It was typical of the teen to think of these things when it’s too late.

Lauren kept the lights turned off in the house. If the man knew where she lived, she hoped he would think she wasn’t home and go away… but she wasn’t really that naïve to think that, though it helped just a fraction with her anxiety. She did, however, have the television on at a low volume; she needed something to break the silence.

It was nearing eleven when she decided to go back upstairs to begin her second night with little to no sleep with a knife held close to her, when she saw a picture of a man appear on the screen. Lauren covered her mouth as she gasped; it was the same middle-aged man that she was being killed yesterday… She recognized his face, unshaven and large green eyes.

”If anybody has any information on the murder of James Bridge, please do not hesitate to call the number on the screen.” Without another thought, Lauren grabbed the phone and started punching in the number, occasionally looking back at the screen to make sure she had put the number in right.

But just as she was about to hit the call button, her eyes widened in terror when the front door to her home flew open. The young girl dropped the phone, it breaking as it hit the wooden floor. The terrified girl fell back on the stairs when she saw a man standing inside her home… A man dressed all in black, ghostly white skin, a clean, sharp knife in his hands. It was him. He had come for her.

Lauren couldn’t stop the scream from leaving her lips. The noise was loud; she hoped someone would hear her and help her. She continued screaming as she clumsily got to her feet and climbed as quickly as she could up the stairs, running into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She grabbed her own knife off her bedside table and pushed herself as far as she could in the corner of her room furthest away from her door.

She could hear his footsteps coming up the stairs at a slow pace; he wasn’t in any rush. She wiped away the falling tears as he got closer. The girl tried to remain as quiet as she could as he checked all the other upstairs rooms before finally getting to her door.

Lauren held her breath, her heart raced as he turned the doorknob, but finding it locked. Her breath was so shaky as she exhaled, her eyes closed tightly, praying in vain that he would leave. However, she found herself screaming again when her door fell down, the killer stepping inside, his emotionless eyes locked on her as he marched in her direction. Her voice cracked as she yelled at him, “Please! Please don’t! Please!” But he ignored her cries.

Lauren dropped her knife beside her; she was too much of a wreck to ever be able to use it effectively against him. Besides, she was far too weak to ever be able to defend herself.

The man moved his gaze to the knife and without a second thought kicked it behind him, well out of her reach. Lauren sobs became quieter when he crouched down beside her. He didn’t hesitate in grabbing her by the throat and dragging her towards her unmade bed.

Lauren wanted to cry out, but what good would it do now? She was going to die and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The man threw her on the bed and pinned her down with his body, the whole time Lauren kept her eyes tightly shut. She thought of her parents, and how she wished she had spent more time with them these past few weeks. They loved her dearly, but she felt she could have been a better daughter, someone who accomplished something.

She thought of Hannah and Sophie, the only two people that even bothered to talk to her during school, and how she hoped they would miss her when her body is found.

She waited for death to come, but instead of feeling a knife in her side, she felt a warm hand pull at her pajama shorts, while the other held her hands above her head. Lauren started to cry again; not only was she going to be murdered in her own home, but she was also going to be stripped of her innocence in the most cruel way possible.

Once her shorts were removed, Lauren heard the sound of the man unzipping his jeans, and he adjusted himself between the legs. The terrified teen tried to struggle against him, but he only pinned her down harder before inserting himself inside her.

Lauren felt a sharp tug inside her and cried out. She didn’t even realize that the man stayed still above her, his eyes watching her every move. The girl sniffed, her nose becoming blocked from so much crying, and opened her eyes just a little when she finally noticed that the man wasn’t doing anything.

She was surprised to see his face so close to hers, but she found herself not being able to look away, his hazel eyes daring her to do so. A few more tears fell from her brown eyes as he slowly began thrusting in and out of her. She still felt pain between her legs, but it really wasn’t long before she noticed it had passed.

The man soon released his grip on Lauren’s hands, and instead held one in each of his own hands, holding them down beside her head, his pace becoming quicker. The entire time he didn’t make a sound.

However, the same couldn’t said for Lauren, whose breathing became deeper from the feeling he was giving her, which sickened her to her very core. She thought he was purposely doing this to her; making her feel good in the very moment she didn’t want it.

With him being so surprisingly gentle with her, the events that had built up from last night seemed to have finally caught up with the young girl, and she found herself losing consciousness, those hard hazel eyes being the last thing she remembered.

If she knew death was going to be this calm, she wouldn’t have been so terrified.

Notes

Constructive criticism appreciated.
Thanks for reading.