Chloroform killer

Chapter one

Sandy fell asleep almost instantly, easily succumbing to the images on the small, cheap television and the soft, warm, orange glow of the tall lamp. As always, her dreams were innocent enough.

But something was different about this dream.

A wave of increasing uneasiness passed over her. She could almost feel her body tensing, her hands gripping onto the soft sofa.

She realised that she was half awake and attempted to open her eyes. A loud bang alerted her senses, the realisation quickly dawning on her that she had left the back door open. Her body once again involuntarily tensed. She barely had enough time to turn round before she felt the soft, damp tissue over her mouth. She opened her mouth, only to breathe in a relaxing odour.

She was nursed out of consciousness, everything went black.

Black...

Black……

Black………

When she woke up, she woke up quickly because of the unbearable pain in the middle of her face.

As if her skull had split in two.

A penetrating pain which threatened to explode her head. She clawed desperately at her face, her sharp nails digging in, but this did nothing to stop the jarring pain. Stressed, Sandy placed her nail in between her teeth and bit hard. It was only then that she noticed something - not nail - in between her teeth and spat it out.

The disgusted look on her face could not be helped as she saw the piece of - at least what looked like - skin that lay in a pool of slowly spreading saliva on the glass table beside the sofa. She may have had sharp nails, but she hadn't clawed very hard at her face - at least not enough to scratch a centimetre thick piece of skin from her face.

She examined her nail closely. It wasn't a surprise to spot a small amount of skin stuck to her nail, but there was something else - A shade of red on the nail, darker than the bright red nail paint.

She suddenly remembered the hand that had pressed tissue over her mouth. The clock said 3:16 am, 4 hours after she had gone to sleep. Sandy's eye caught on a small handheld mirror on the table. She hadn't seen it there before. Snatching it up, she instantly flipped open the lid.

She had to suppress her scream, dropping the mirror onto the carpet. She waited there for a few minutes before considering calling the police with the upstairs phone. But she was held to her chair, afraid to move, afraid to do anything.

She thought her back ached. She moved to get up, but she realised that it was a huge kitchen knife that plunged even further into her back, tearing painfully through flesh, stringy sinew and stopping dead at the rigid bone. The thick scrape of the knife against bone was covered by Sandy’s agonised scream, which turned to a gasp. Winded, She tried to move, however, she was paralysed.

The attacker briskly walked away from the scene, calmly and quietly exiting the front door, satisfied with the kill.

The dying woman had no choice but to lay there and feel the blood squeeze past the cruel knife.

A few minutes later she blacked out.

************************************************************************

Sandy’s neighbour called the police at 3:27 am that morning.



After hearing screams from next door, Shevique Van Havem saw Kelly Baker - the person who lived directly opposite Sandy Morris - rushing out of the house in tears.

Police cars first arrived on the street before an ambulance came.



All the commotion was undoubtedly waking up the whole street, with one enraged father yelling his complaints. A shattered Shevique explained that she was the one that called the police, although they were finding it hard understanding her thick dutch accent above the roaring sirens of several newly informed policemen turning up on the street.



She also witnessed the sight of Sandy with a knife stuck in her back, stiff as a board, dried blood caking her. The smell was terrible, it almost burnt her nostril hairs and the shocked neighbour had to turn round to stop the smell reaching her nostrils anymore. The ambulance crew - who had to deal with the blood - were carrying the victim into the waiting ambulance.



Lights flashed everywhere, sirens blared loudly and residents were yelling. Shevique felt as if she could faint. She didn’t too much mind the sight of the blood, but the sickly, rich smell which emanated from it was unbearable and combined with all the action, it was like being hot and dehydrated in a lively disco.

She hurried back into her house to try and get warm and cozy in her bed, which was meant for two people, but her husband had divorced her a few days after she had bought the bed three years ago. For a reason unknown to her, she actually preferred to sleep in it on her own.

Tonight, however, sleep was difficult to gain for Shevique. Even if it had been quite late at night when she called the police, she still couldn't sleep. Even after the sound of the sirens had diminished, there was still something stuck in her mind. She wasn't of the squeamish kind, but because it was her next neighbour who she saw covered in blood, she was affected by it.

A chill ran down her spine just to think of the person who must have entered her house while she was sleeping and just killed her.

Maybe that was why she couldn't sleep that night.

Kelly Baker, who had discovered Sandy with the knife in her back, had the same problems sleeping that night. But there was a different reason. Kelly had known her quite well over the past five years. It was three years ago when Sandy had moved in to the house across the road. Before that, she had lived a few streets away.

The two woman had immediately formed a friendship. With neither having children, male company, parents or jobs, they would hang around with each other nearly every day. Both preferred to be extremely polite and gentle. They were disgusted at the thought of smoking or drinking. Animals were of both their interests.

There was a lot in common between the two friends.

Kelly was disappointed when Sandy had told her that the council would be moving her to a different house. Before this happened, they tried to spend as much time together as possible, although this turned out to be pointless, as it turned out that Sandy was moving across the street from her. Things became a lot easier for them when they lived only a short walk away.

They stayed friends for a long time and they felt that no-one could ruin that. One night, however, Kelly had been persuaded by one of her few friends to go to a party taking place at a busy pub. Although she had firmly asked her friend - Julian - not to ask her to drink any alcohol, she quickly found him trying to force her to try an apple cider in a shot glass.

Eventually, she gave in and reluctantly drunk her first shot glass. The taste and uplifting effect was all it took to make her want to gulp down even more. Finding the bottle, she was cheered by her small group of friends as she happily poured nearly a whole bottle down her throat, the flashing lights and pounding music overbearing no-more.

She had found it easy going to sleep that night, but the morning wasn’t so easy for her. A sledgehammer had pounded its way through her skull and nothing could make that go away. Every sound was amplified, her pained moaning sounding like feedback on a badly handled microphone.

The realisation had hit her like a vicious fist.

The night before had been a deception of herself. She would never swallow that much alcohol or allow herself to enter a noisy party in a crowded pub.

Sandy quickly heard the rumours and rushed to Kelly’s house after debating it in the privacy of her own home. The first thing she noticed was how shattered her friend looked. Her eyes were puffy, she had visibly gained weight and her hair was messily tied back in a ponytail.

As soon as the truth was shamelessly told, Sandy stormed back to her house. They didn’t see each other for the next three days. As soon as Kelly had regained her normal, alcohol purged self the next day, she was in tears, realising the stupidity of what she had done and what would happen to the precious relationship. She had caused it to burst like a bubble.

Three days after the event, Sandy sent a note to her house to inform her that she would talk to her that day. It didn’t happen.

That night, Sandy was brutally murdered. That was why Kelly couldn’t sleep at that moment. Tears still forced themselves out of her tear ducts and anger - both aimed at herself and the killer - enveloped her.

She was going to find out what had happened to her companion and who killed her.











Chapter two



On television that unusually tranquil morning, the news host talked about the murder of a woman.



Kelly was pouring herself some cereal in a plain white glass bowl, thinking nothing of what was being said at first.



“…the victim has a deep scratch mark down the centre of her face.”



She finished pouring the milk and reached for the box of cereal.



“Forensic scientists and a coroner say there was a struggle before the woman was chloroformed and slashed down the middle of her face before being violently stabbed in her spine with a kitchen knife.”



She flicked her eyes over to the screen as she placed the box back in the cupboard and walked over to the sofa with the bowl.



“She was paralyzed just before she died a few minutes after. The arriving ambulance crew could sadly do nothing about this.”



She sat down on the soft sofa and concentrated on the television, interested, yet repulsed at the same time.



“The victim’s name was Sandy Baker.” Kelly wasn’t surprised to hear that name.

She felt the bowl slip out of her hands, turning up-side-down before landing on her feet. The cold milk went through her trousers to her legs, not expecting it. She looked down at the mess, hating the feeling of the wet milk on her legs.



It was going to be a long day.



************************************************************************

At the local police station, she asked for a document on the murder. She lied, saying that she had to start a college project because she was studying criminology.

He believed her, handing her two sheets.

At home, she read the coroner’s notes and the notes made by the forensic scientists.

The coroner’s were the most interesting.



There are traces of blood on the victim’s fingernail. Coupled with the forensic scientists’ data, this means that she scratched the wound on her face, as it is her blood on her nail. She couldn’t have made the wound herself, as the gouge isn’t the right shape for her nail. It looks like that of a knife.

There are also traces of skin on the same nail, which signals a struggle between the killer and the victim, who would most likely have scratched the killer, most likely on the face.

However, this is contradicted by the forensic scientists’ data, which shows the skin to be her own. Again, this points toward her scratching her face wound.

A slight bend and teeth marks on the end of the nail show that she bit her nail, possibly with the 1.2 centimetre thick piece of skin that was found on a table on it. Saliva around the skin shows that she may have spat it out onto the table.

I also found small traces of chloroform inside her lungs. The killer may have made her unconscious before doing the damage and stabbing the knife into her spine, paralysing her because the spine, which usually protects the central nervous system was knocked forward by the knife blade, dislodging the nerves which enable a human to move.



The last section of the coroner’s notes was of no interest to Kelly, so she went on to read the forensic scientists’ notes, skipping the information that had already been covered in the first set of notes.



There are traces of chloroform in the lungs. However, no fingerprints are on the knife. A tiny strand of hair has been found on the handle. It seems to come from inside leather gloves, the killer could have worn a torn glove. The hair was found amongst other similar hairs, however, these come from the sofa which the knife stabbed all the way through.



She found the second set of notes to be too brief to get anything from, apart from the fact that the killer wore torn leather gloves. She was sure that lots of people had torn leather gloves.



The first set, however, was extremely detailed and she learnt a lot from it. But a lot of the information was just assumptions, so not much could be certain. She looked at the name scribbled below both sets of notes and wrote them down on a piece of paper she tore off an old letter she found in the kitchen draw.



John Farley,



Dave Nardull.



John Farley - the forensic scientist - was the person she looked up in the phonebook first. Her bitten nail ran down the list of names in the F section.



Serina Fahler,

Richard Farlet,

John Farley,



She found his name and looked alongside it to find his mobile phone number.

Dialing it, she held the phone up to her ear. Ring, ring, ring… Ring ring ring…

After a few rings, the phone was answered.

“Hello?” A man enquired.

“Hi, I’d like to speak to you about something.”

“Today?”

“Today.”

“What about, because I have to go home soon to sign a certificate of death and fill in some very important forms.”

“You’re John Farley, the forensic scientist who examined Sandy Baker, right?”

“Yeah, yeah…” John said carelessly. A slight stab of anger pierced Kelly.

“I need to ask you some questions about the analysis you wrote.”

“Who gave that to you!?” It was his turn to be annoyed.

“The sheriff at my local police station.” She wasn’t deterred by the rising tone in his voice.

“That was supposed to be confidential for the moment! I guess they just fucked it up!” He almost yelled.

“I’m sorry about that. When would you like to see me today?”

“Just meet me here at 6:15.”

BEEP.

Kelly had sensed the anger in his voice and was wondering whether he had been hinting or not.

She decided no and checked the time.

4:36 pm.

She thought about the events that had happened for the past few days. The bad party, the break-up of her only good friendship and finally the brutal murder of her friend. If only life would have given her a chance to come and talk to her about… whatever Sandy had wanted to talk about before she was killed.

Kelly could hold her feelings in no further and the tears came rushing down her face as a wave of sadness washed over her. She curled into a foetal position and covered her face with her shaking hands as uncontrollable sobs racked through her weak body.



She had seen enough already.



************************************************************************



John Farley was attempting to contain his anger when he burst into his boss’ office without knocking.



“What the fuck happened with “confidential”!?” He almost shouted at an appalled Paul Ferguson.



“What the fuck happened with my rules!? I thought one of them was to knock before you come in!”



“Don’t play your funny games with me! Why the hell does this bitch come along and tell me she has access to my report on Sandy Baker through the local police station?” John’s face started to turn red, whilst his boss was managing to retain control.



“I guess some idiot sheriff has ignored the warnings and just given a nosy reporter your sheet! Remember, we distribute the sheets to the stations for them to do what they want with them. Even if we set barriers for them not to cross, not all of them will listen. What can I do? What are you even speaking to me about this for?”



Gritting his teeth, the forensic scientist turned and stormed out, feet stomping loudly on the soft red carpet covering a creaky wooden floor. He didn’t bother closing the door.

Paul wondered if he should take any action, but thought better of it. Everyone seemed to think they had a good reason to hate him, as every good boss seemed to have to face.



************************************************************************



Kelly’s feet “click clacked” on the marble floor of her local store.

She was in the food section looking for anything particularly attractive, although her appetite had gone down since the party a few days ago, which she was trying to forget, along with everything else.

Her eye caught on a chicken and mushroom pie and instantly picked it up and put it in her shopping cart.

Satisfied with what she had bought, she also picked up a few little sweets and headed to the kitchen section to buy a new toaster. She needed one and had been going without toast - her favourite breakfast - for a few weeks.

In the kitchen section, the apparatus glimmered attractively. As she walked toward the toasters at the end of the aisle, she saw the whiskers and similar tools.



Then she saw the knives and shuddered.

A cold chill reverberated up her spine and she felt ice cold fingers clinging to the back of her neck as she was reminded of…



“Kelly!” Shouted Julian who was running to her.

“Hi. I haven’t seen you since the party.” She replied as a slight wave of anger fell over her. Kelly had to avoid Julian’s eyes to prevent him seeing it.

“I’m so sorry about what happened to Sandy. I’ll come over later to see you.” He reassured her.

"Thanks Julian." She finally turned to face him.

"I've got to go now, but I'll see you later." He waved goodbye as he ran out of sight.

She found the toaster, not feeling in very high spirits as she touched the deathly cold metal. Julian was the one who had got her to drink the alcohol and go to the party in the first place. She was thinking of not seeing him ever again as she felt a deep hatred for him.

Looking at the time - 5:15 -, she thought she had better get home and put her delicious chicken and mushroom pie in the microwave.



The time was getting on.



Ten minutes later, she was at home waiting for the microwave to cook the pie, watching television. As soon as the pie was done, she pulled it out and sat down to start eating it.



*********************************************************************



John's feet crunched on the autumn leaves as he walked home to quickly have a rest before he had to meet the annoying, nosy woman who had spoke to him earlier.

She reminded him of one of his previous friends, who would find any way into his private conversations and wanted to know everything. His marital state seemed to be of importance to her all the time. He suspected something going on there, but he had plans deviant of hers. He had shunned her away years ago after a bombardment of texts with hidden sexual overtones. Not hidden enough. He had come to her house to confront her about the issue, although she didn’t exactly respond how he’d have liked. Snapping at him, he was commanded to leave the house and he did.



She never saw him again.



John had never had any female company since about 35 years ago when he was a sexually hungry, hormonal teenager. He saw any kind of company as a hassle rather than a good time to socialise. In fact, he had moved out of his parents’ house as soon as the chance came and he had bliss. Freedom to do whatever he wanted without anyone just one floor apart.

At the age of 21, he had paid an enormous sum of money to gain a valuable place in university studying pathology. It interested him and he knew it would eventually land him a high paying job like his current one. He was actually fairly respected by his boss because he had worked there for around seven years as a pathologist.



The sky was darkening. The air was cold against his skin and he had to rub his together to keep them warm.



Glancing down at his watch (the numbers were starting to disappear in the darkness of the forest and the oncoming dusk) to see that the time was 5:30.



Better get a move on he thought as he walked a little faster.



The trees towered above him, almost devoid of leaves. They were clenched tightly together, so there was a fair amount of dodging to do.



A twig managed not to snap under his foot.



Sometimes he looked in the depths of the forest, In the darker, hidden away parts with tightly packed trees. It was an impenetrable blackness which could hide anything, even if the hidden- thing was right at the edge of it. His vivid imagination always made him shiver…



He had always hated the thought of not being able to see something, but it being able to see him. It was a deadly advantage…



Suddenly, there was a loud rustling sound from above as he felt something fairly large brush against his hair and something cut his head. Moving quickly to his right, he saw the large bird just before his head smacked hard and painfully against a tree.



An unbearable hot pain ran through his skull and something pressed down on his eyes. A blurred vision of leaves was the last thing he saw before he passed out.



*********************************************************************



At 5:35, Kelly finshed her chicken and mushroom pie, feeling the weight on her stomach as she walked into the kitchen to put the metal tin in the bin. After that, she didn't know what to do, sitting on the black sofa. No matter how much she thought about it, nothing crossed her mind.



Not even the horrible events, for some reason…



A few minutes later, she thought of something. Something very special.



She made sure the curtains were closed. The window locked. Felt a tingle as she thought of it... Laying down on the sofa, she began to move her hand.



She needed this. After all the stress of the past two days, she craved it.



Her hand slowly moved down her eagerly awaiting body...



*********************************************************************



John's consciousness returned to him. The leaves. The trees. The time.

Rushing to his feet, he looked at the time. 5:51.



Shit!!! No fucking time to go home now!!



Stabs of anger poking at him, he ran as fast as he could back toward the morgue. It was over a five minute walk. Hopefully, he could get there by the time the bitch wanted to meet him and stick her ugly nose in his fucking business.



7 minutes later, he arrived at his work place. The forest which he had to cross to get home was just across the road from it.



He ran toward the double doors, and as he entered, he thought he heard the thick crack of a stick and quickly turned to look, but a bus was just pulling up, blocking his view of the forest where the noise had come from. The bus stopped there.



Trying to look past the windows, he searched for any sign of movement, but it would only have blended in with the crowd getting out of the bus.



Fuck it, John thought as he ran back into the building, which was practically deserted, apart from the boss, who was busy looking at files up on the top floor office.



His feet "Click clacked" on the white marble floor of the reception. He would have sat on the seat behind the receptionist's desk, but she would get quite pissed off if she saw security camera footage of him sat down on it. He wondered off into the waiting room and sat down there on a soft cushioned chair.



Silence. A bunch of chairs. A few security cameras perched up on the wall like eagles. A white wooden door. Loads of things to entertain myself with he thought. He was slumped on the chair, head resting on the back of the it.



If John hadn't been so tired, he would have heard the opening of the entrance doors. The footsteps coming closer to the waiting room. The entrance door slamming shut by itself.



He found it hard to keep his eyes open. The lids were closing in on each other like venus fly traps, only to be re-alerted. Each time, they were ending up closer to each other…



Meanwhile, the intruder slipped unnoticed down the hallway, towards the waiting room door which was now only a few metres away…



John felt as if the wave of sleep was going to going to fully engulf him, but this pleasure was not allowed- at least not yet. He felt slightly agitated to have to reach his neck to scratch an itch. Immediately afterward, he relaxed, knowing how little effort would be needed to go to sleep and deprive himself of all the troubles and hazards of the world…



************************************************************************



Kelly felt hopeful as she walked on her way to the coroner’s building. As she trotted past the local hospital, her eyes scanned the reception room. On the clock on the wall, she saw that the time was 6:07. It seemed as if she would be on time…



************************************************************************



He was half-asleep when a noise awakened him. It sounded like a drawer being slammed shut. He didn’t too much care, so he closed his eyes again. The bitch would wake him up if it was her…



He started counting sheep to try and go to sleep. It would come so soon…



A minute passed and he was again half-asleep.



He thought he heard a voice, but he was beyond the point of caring anymore. Sleep was beginning to engulf him once more…



The voice was much louder this time. “Dr. Nardull!” A hand pressed down tightly on his shoulder, causing him to jump and turn his head quickly round.



He was faced with a metal scalpel.



Terror rooted him to the spot. Nothing could allow him to move. Every muscle was paralysed with unbearable tension. His blood turned cold as he knew what was about to happen. The stick cracking had been the killer. The draw shutting a few seconds ago.



He sat there for a few tense moments, until…



The scalpel was thrust toward his face and he closed his eyes… Waited for the stinging wound to come. Still waited. A few seconds passed. Nothing. Maybe he was already dead. Or maybe not.



“Dr. Nardull, do not dare leave your instruments on my desk!” Cried the receptionist.



Relief flooded him as he opened his eyes. Looking up, the agitated receptionist stood there with the scalpel in her hands, waiting for him to take the implement. She was black and slightly overweight. Freckles speckled her face and she wore rectangular glasses.



“Sorry, Marcie, I thought you were- erm… someone else-”

“That’s fine, just take the scalpel, I couldn’t get it any closer to your face right now if-”

He snatched it from her hand.

“Thank you. I’ll see you some other time.” He gave her a practised smile which she returned as she walked out.



Then the bitch entered, and any trace of a smile was gone from his face by that time. She stood in front of him for a few seconds as the door closed. He sat in an expectant pose, arms folded. He was saying nothing.



She was smiling as she greeted him. “Hello, I heard that woman- Marcie, I think- say your name. You’re David Nardull, right…?”

After a pause, he replied, “Yes.” in the same expectant position. He wasn’t going to bother appearing nice.

“Well, you don’t talk much eh? I don’t min-”

“Look, I didn’t even want to do this and I’m doing you a favour doing it, OK? So ask me the fucking questions, OK? Is that OK with you, huh?”

“If that’s going to be your attitude for tonight, we might as well disclose this conversation right now.”

“Oh no, I really don’t want that to happen!” He sarcastically answered.

“But we’re going to have to, anyway, because you’re very important to my investigations, OK”

David almost cringed at her methodical choice of words.

“Take over my job if you want…” Another sarcastic reply from him.

Anger penetrated her deeply.



************************************************************************



Meanwhile, at the police station, investigations were happening…



“…has been diagnosed with Schizophrenia, Bi-polar disorder, Intermittent explosive disorder, just about everything you would need to become a raving mad psycho.” Observed the police researcher.

“Please take this seriously.” Firmly responded the chief of police.



They were reading from a computer screen which listed the information in green regarding a certain suspect.



“Doesn’t have a job,” continued the researcher, “doesn’t have a sexual partner, could have me, though!”

“Andrew!” the chief of police yelled, which caused the researcher to read out the information more seriously.

“Is 28 years old, has never been committed for any offence-”

“That’s surprising considering we‘re talking about a 28 year old!” Remarked Richard.

Andrew responded: “I thought you said to be serious, Richie…?”

“Just ignore me!”

“Ok, uh, is a heterosexual, lives on their own in a semi-detached house.” He sighed. “Asked for a-”



The door to the computer room burst open and a young policeman rushed through it. He looked at both Andrew and Richard with shock.



“Chief, you need to come quick, there’s been another murder!” He exclaimed before hastily running back through the door. Richard ran after him, after instructing Andrew to print the information, leave the printout on the front desk and go home.



The chief ran after the young policeman down the hallways and finally caught up with him. He was relatively new, so Richard couldn’t remember his name.

“Hey, what’s your name?”

“Gerard. What’s yours?”

“This isn’t a damn socialising club, nor is it a time to be socialising!”

“Hypocrite” he muttered under his breath just loud enough for the chief to hear.

“Whatever! What’s happened?”

“Some bad shit.”

“Would you mind giving me some details?” He angrily snapped back.

“Wire used to cut his throat and scalpel stabbed into his eye, according to the person who reported it.”

“Who was that?”

“Some kind of secretary or-”

“What was his name?”

They were nearing the entrance doors now.

“Her name was Marcie Belkinson.”



Chapter three



Kelly had had no success with David Nardull. She had barely even said anything to him and it was all over. She had had to walk away from him and just forget about him.



She was now walking along the cold streets. The freezing night air blew onto her skin.

She saw him as a cocky, sarcastic fucker. It almost felt as if he had been making fun of her murdered friend, Sandy.

But, of course, he didn’t realise that there was that close relationship, so she forgave him a little in that respect.



She had gloves on, some nice warm, leather gloves.



It was then that she heard the police sirens break the stillness of the night.



************************************************************************



“Marcie, the receptionist here, apparently went upstairs to check on the boss, then came back down and found him all murdered like this…” Gerard explained.



Richard stared at the body of David Nardull. Strong barbed wire had been used to almost decapitate him. Blood stained his lips and a lot had dried around his sliced neck. Tendrils of skin were hanging loose, both from the needle sharp ends of the barbed wire and the cut. The bone was visible if you looked closer up, however, few would dare that.



His one remaining eye, the one that hadn’t been penetrated several times with a scalpel blade, was glazed over.



Viscous liquid had spilled down from the wounded eye and dried on his face.



The blood smelt acrid and, while it didn’t burn Richard’s nostril hairs, it was a very concentrated smell. The severed flesh smelt of mouldy meat and mouldy drinks.



“Pretty nasty, eh…?” He looked at Gerard, who looked away and refused to answer.



Richard sighed. He turned his gaze around the room to observe the fingerprint people pouring the flour-like substance on every inch of the place, a man making a sound recording of himself describing in impeccable detail the crime scene and several others doing their jobs. But nothing for him to be doing at the moment. He yawned. He hated having nothing to do in his job and was always seeking something to do when he hadn’t been asked to sit around and wait like now.



*****************************************************************************************************



Kelly locked her door and walked toward the stairs leading up to her bedroom. She stopped. Her gaze had caught on a patch of darkness in the kitchen. In her peripheral vision, she could have sworn she had seen a dark figure moving stealthily toward her.

But it had now disappeared. It must have been a figment of her imagination.

She turned again to walk toward the stairs, but something flashed in her peripheral vision.

She turned her gaze to it, but again it was gone.

She felt uneasy.

She started to turn her head round to the stairs again, but she was afraid to. It took her a minute to build up the courage to.

Suddenly, a person ran toward her. They held a knife above their head. And it was her.

How was that possible?

A wave of pure terror engulfed her, yet she was unable to move. She wanted to, but movement was, for some reason unknown to her, restricted.

One question plagued her: How could she be rushing toward herself with a knife?

She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound was released.

The knife was aimed at her forehead.

She could almost feel the tip of the knife striking her head when her eyes snapped open.

When she awoke from her terrifying nightmare she actually screamed. A huge jolt shocked her body.