Note: I have concluded that my unconscious mind wants me dead. Badly.
- - - - - - -
I was hiding inside my wardrobe. I knew she was coming. She wanted it. She wanted it desperately. And she was going to kill me for it. I squinted at the quivering mobile screen as I pressed numbers quickly. I had to call for help. Katherine.
A sudden sound made my heart drop. An explosion. She blew up the front door. Discretion was definitely not in her vocabulary. I squeezed my eyes shut as I listened to her hysterical laughing, 'Come out, come out. I know you're here. I can almost see blood gushing out your body. It's beautiful art in the making.' I breathed in and out to calm my racing heart. She's crazy. She was enjoying the hunt like a game of Hide-and-seek.
I peered through a crack in the wardrobe. Good, she wasn't in the room. I quietly counted to myself. I needed to get out of the wardrobe, through the back door and into the front lawn. One: open the doors. Two: step out. Three. . .
'I knew you were hiding inside there. So predictable.'
She stood at the side of the wardrobe. She was hiding in a blind spot. I should have realised something was wrong when she became silent. Shit. She grabbed my throat and lifted me into the air. Her fingers dug into my skin, drawing blood. Coughing, I tried to open my eyes and look at her. She was smiling. She was enjoying this too much. It wasn't about the book anymore. She hauled me across the room. I groaned as I hit my head against the wall. I watched her as she licked her bloodied fingers with a wicked smirk. She's a monster.
Clutching the wall, I tried limping away. I needed to get some distance between us. I needed to get out of the house. I'm sure Katherine would be here soon. Glancing behind me, she was merely walking, taking a leisure stroll. Once in the living room, I paused for a second, gawking in disbelief at the missing half of the room. I crawled through the hole and saw an armoured 4wd screech to a stop.
Katherine's father dived out the car and threw me inside. He pulled out an assault rifle and stood between her and the vehicle. I round the window half down and watched in horror as he confronted her. He's suicidal. I shut my eyes and prayed. God, please save us. My body froze at the sound of gunshot. I opened my eyes to a sight that would be remembered forever. Half his brain was splattered on the window. He was dead. I felt something warm drip down my face: blood. I was covered in his blood. He was dead.What was I going to say to Katherine? I'm sorry.
She had captured me.
It was no longer about the book. No longer about plain simple revenge. It was about nothing but cold blood lust. She gave up on her sanity. She stood above me with a gun pointed at my head. She waved it around my body, figuring where would be the most fun to shoot at. Then it clicked. My arms.'Please, let me go. I will give you the book.' She pulled the trigger. Left arm. Right arm. Bang. Bang. I cried out in pain. I couldn't move them, let alone hold back the bleeding. Blood was gushing out my body like a river. Shit. My precious arms. She smiled proudly as she held the trigger, 'Soon, I'll make it so that you'll definitely never will be able to write again.' She pulled the trigger again.
She kept on shooting. Bang. Bang. Both arms. Bullet after bullet. Soon, my arms were like tattered flags. Broken. Bleeding. Frail. Unusable. The more I cried, the more she shot. How far was she going to go with this torture? How long until I bled to death? I clamped down my tongue so hard that I tasted blood. But what was a drop compared to an ocean? My body shook with the convulsions of suppressed fear and pain. I just wanted it all to end already.
I woke up crying.
I ran to the arms of my mother like a child. The last time I did that was when I was six years old.
But fear was greater than embarrassment.
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