Lauren couldn’t quite believe it when she opened her eyes the following morning. She had to have been dreaming… It just wasn’t possible that she was alive. But she was; her heartbeat, her breathing, and her eyes taking in the familiar surroundings that were her bedroom were proof off it. She was alive.

The exhausted teen sat up in her bed, feeling as if she didn’t sleep at all. Flashes of last night clouded her mind; his hands on her body, his cold stare… But not his knife in her side. Lauren almost broke down thinking about it all, though she wasn’t really sure if it was because the horrible ordeal she went through, or relief that she wasn’t dead.

Lauren swung her feet out of bed and stood quickly, though instantly regretting it as she felt an awful pain between her legs. It was then that she cried, though not from the pain. She covered her mouth with her hand as the tears fell. She was raped last night. How could she have let that happen? She should have fought harder, she should have tried harder to push him away… but Lauren had always been weak; she’d never been able to defend herself very well, though in the past the most she had to deal with was horrible words – nothing physical.

But she knew deep down that it wasn’t her fault, though this thought didn’t make her feel any better. Yet as awful as it was, she couldn’t help but think how much worse it could have been for her; the man was surprisingly gentle with her – not as soft as a man could have been with a wife or girlfriend, but definitely not as rough or aggressive as what Lauren thought it would be.

After adjusting to the pain, Lauren noticed her door still on the floor. How was she going to fix that? Without her parents noticing? She sighed to herself, deciding to worry about it later, and crossed the hall to the bathroom, glancing briefly at her knife that was next to the fallen door.

She stared into the mirror, almost not recognizing herself; she was a state. Her dark brown hair was a knotted wreck, her skin looked pale and rough, her eyes were blank, though red and puffy from so much crying the past couple of days, and since when did she have dark circles under her eyes?

When she had had a shower and she was dried and dressed, she glanced at the clock and saw it was eleven-forty-three. Lauren ran a hand through her hair; she was supposed to be in work over two hours ago. She quickly ran down the stairs to call, but stopped when she saw the remains of the phone on the floor. It was times like these that she wished she had a cell like a normal teenager, but with no one to talk to except her parents – who she lived with – she didn’t see the point.

There was no other way of calling the library, and she was not about to leave the house just to use the public phone at the end of the street. Lauren would probably lose her job for this… but she had other things to worry about.

With a thought on her mind, the teen ran back upstairs and back into her bedroom. She pulled open her closet and grabbed a small suitcase and started filling it with some clothes – enough to last until her parents came home from their vacation. Once she thought she had everything she needed, she dragged her case behind her down the stairs and set for the front door.

However, when she reached the door, she couldn’t bring herself to open it. Her hand trembled above the doorknob. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath,one… two… three. Yet, her hand still didn’t move.

Lauren threw her case down in frustration; she knew she was being ridiculous. It was the middle of the day, he wouldn’t be out there now, and even if she did see him wandering the streets he surely wouldn’t try to hurt her with people around. So why couldn’t she open the door?

As night fell once more, Lauren double checked that the front door was bolted shut. When she had done the same with the back door, she climbed the stairs and walked into the bathroom to brush her teeth. It was just as she was finishing that she heard a creaking noise, and her heart jumped in her throat. Was he back? Or was her mind playing tricks on her?

She listened out for any other sounds, yet heard nothing. Lauren left the bathroom and looked to her right then her left, and saw no one. She hurriedly went into her bedroom, though much more anxious because she couldn’t lock her door. She did, however, pick the knife off the floor and huddled into the same corner she was in last night, and waited.

Finally, the girl heard footsteps advancing towards her room, her eyes were wide when she saw the same man, the killer, make his way towards her. Again he was wearing all black. Did he ever change? She also saw blood on his cheek and trembled in the corner, pointing the knife at him.

The young man squatted next to the girl, but instead of grabbing her throat like last night, he just stared at her. Lauren avoided his gaze; if her eyes couldn’t see him, then maybe he wasn’t really there.

Without a word, the killer wrapped his hand around the girl’s wrist – the one that was holding the knife – and brought it up to his neck just enough that the tip of the knife was touching him. When Lauren finally looked at him, shocked, his hazel eyes were giving her a daring look.

She began to tremble more and eventually dropped the knife, knowing she would never be able to go through with such an act, “That’s what I thought,” the man breathed, picking up the knife. Using it, he brought it up to Lauren’s face, moving her hair so he could see her eyes, “What’s your name?”

“L-Lauren,” she replied quickly. Maybe if she answered his questions, he would leave her alone, “L-Lauren Berry.” She tried to hold back her tears, but one fell, which he noticed.

The man threw the knife behind him, not caring where it landed. He furrowed his eyebrows to stare at the fallen tear. He brought his hand up to her face and wiped it away with his thumb before saying, “That’s a nice name.”

Realizing his legs were starting to cramp from crouching, the man sat down fully in front of Lauren Berry. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboro reds and a lighter. He lit up, paying no attention to how the girl felt, but blew the smoke away from her.

Lauren began to feel very uncomfortable with the way the man was staring at her. She hated it when people stared at her, which was down to her low self-esteem. She had to keep looking away from him, his hazel eyes never leaving her face as he smoked. She was surprised with herself when words left her mouth, “What’s your name?”

The man couldn’t help but wonder when he was staring at her, ignoring her completely. Who was she? What was she? Why did he spare her? He searched her face trying to find the answers he was missing.

When he was finished with his cigarette, he put it out on her carpet, throwing it in the same direction as the knife. He remained silent for just a moment long, his eyes squinting as if to get a better look at the shaking teen, “Way,” he finally answered. He moved closer to the girl, his face mere centimeters from her. She could smell the nicotine on his breath, “Gerard Way,” he spoke in a whisper.

Although Lauren couldn’t bring herself to look away from his eyes, out of the corner of the own, she saw the blood on his cheek, still wet. Her stomach turned; she wanted to throw up.

The killer, who she now knew as ‘Gerard’ – if that was even his real name – brought his hand up to her face again and grabbed her cheeks, forcing her head to stay in place. Without another word, his lips brushed hers, causing her to close her eyes. He pressed harder against her mouth, though still keeping it soft.

Like he finally saw sense, he let this Lauren Berry go and stood up. He ran a hand through his hair, “Shit,” he muttered loud enough for her to hear and quickly left the room. Lauren heard the front door slam as he left.

The whole thing left her feeling more confused than scared.