My Horror Story

So this is a story that I wrote for a Valentines Horror story contest. The winner was supposed to be published in the school paper but the February paper hasn't come out. Maybe it did and I just wasn't aware of it. Well I probably didn't win so I wanted others to be able to read it. For a short story it is kinda long, so if you can't deal with the awesomeness then get off my blog. Enjoy!

Stalker

By Courtney

            The alarm clock beeped from the night stand. I opened my eyes and sat up. Turning I squinted at the clock, it read Friday February 14th 5:30 a.m. I felt a pit in my stomach; Valentine’s Day. I shuddered; only awful memories ever came with Valentine’s Day. Throwing my feet over the edge of the bed I stood up and shuffled towards the bathroom. I turned on the shower and waited a moment before stepping in and letting the hot water wash over me. "This year will be fine." I breathed. "I will be fine."
Every year on Valentine’s Day my past came back to taunt me. I had relocated, changed my name, and I stay off of any social media website that someone could search my alias and address.

"My life is good now, I am safe." I whispered to myself. "Jen, no one is going to harm you."

My horror story begins three years ago during my freshman year of college. I was fully focused on my studies and I was trying to achieve my dream of becoming a professional dancer. I had friends and a steady boyfriend, but I also had one other thing: a stalker. Near the end of my first semester it began. Hand written notes would be left on my door step, under my door, and in my mailbox. Inside the notes were declarations of undying love and devotion. Saying things like "I will never give up until you are mine". Alongside these notes came flowers. I confronted my roommate, friends, and boyfriend about them, but they all testified that they weren't the ones leaving them. Soon I began finding notes inside my house on my night stand and there would be rose petals spread across on my bed. Terrified I called the police and notified them about what was happening. They would respond and tried to calm me down, but I could tell that they thought it was just a joke. Finally they told me that they would begin patrolling the neighborhood, I was relieved when I saw their car drive slowly through my street. Not long after the police began to patrol, the notes stopped and Christmas break came and all the students went home. I had unwisely decided not to tell my family about the notes, fully knowing that they would over-react. That year I brought my boyfriend home with me to meet my parents. For the first time in a while I could truly breathe. But all too soon Christmas break ended and we all returned and began school once more. There were no notes in front of my door or in my house. The police still patrolled the area; though not as often, and I felt some security. But after a while the notes began to appear in other places like; inside the girl’s locker room, within my text books, and on my car. But now the notes came alongside with pictures of me. My boyfriend began spending his nights asleep on the couch in my apartment. My roommate didn't mind; I know she also had become freaked out by my invisible stalker.  One night I laid out blankets for my boyfriend as he walked around the apartment and locked all the doors and windows. My roommate was taking a shower so I had a moment alone with him. He held me close and reassured me that I was safe and that no one was going to come into the apartment. He told me that in the morning he was going to make a grand Valentine’s Day breakfast. I looked into his blue eyes and knew that he was going to do all that he could to keep me safe. Reassured, I kissed him good night and went to my room. I fell asleep quickly, calmed by the thought that he was going to keep me safe.

Late into the night my door slowly opened and the light from the hallway fell on my face. I could hear my boyfriend quietly walk into the room. I kept my eyes closed; comforted that he was coming to check up on me. He sat on the edge of my bed and I could feel his fingers graze my cheek as he gently swept the hair off of my face. Then he leaned over and kissed my temple. I continued letting him think that I was asleep; he knew that I hadn't been sleeping well and had been worried about me. He played with a piece of my hair for a moment, then he stood up, quietly left the room, and I drifted back to sleep.

The next morning when I woke up I glanced at the clock. It read 8:30 a.m. It was Valentine’s Day. I sat up and stretched, my eyes were still blurry with sleep. Getting out of bed I tried to pull back my wild hair. I could smell bacon cooking, inhaling deeply I walked out of my room and towards the kitchen. As I walked down the hallway I felt a cold breeze come from under the door of my roommates bath room she must have cracked the window this morning before she left. The blinds were still shut and the lights were off, leaving the apartment in semi-darkness. I could see the faint flicker of candlelight coming from the kitchen. Continuing past my roommate’s bathroom I stepped in a small puddle. I groaned, my roommate always tracked water around after she took a shower. Without looking I wiped my foot on my other pant leg so that I could get the water off. Then I continued towards the kitchen. My stomach growled when I turned into the kitchen and saw a plate of pancakes and bacon sitting on the table. I sat down and began to eat. My boyfriend walked in from the other room, I didn't even look at him I was so entranced by the food. He began to massage my shoulders from behind.

"Mmm. Thanks." I said.

He leaned forward and kissed my temple.

"You're welcome." He replied.

But it wasn't my boyfriend’s voice. I stiffened as I felt a prick in my side; a knife was being held close to me. An arm slid around my neck while the other hand held the knife to me.

"Time to go." The deep and raspy voice said. I didn't move.

"UP!" He barked.

I slowly stood, shaking from head to toe. He pressed himself into my back so we were standing close together. Then he began moving towards the door and I had no choice but to follow him. When we reached the front door he made me unlock the bolt and open it, then we started down the front steps of my apartment. I scanned the area with my eyes, looking for anyone to come and help me. I spotted a green car with a door ajar that he began veer me towards. My eyes were streaming. All I could think was "Don't get into that car. Don't get into that car. If you get in you won't come back." I took a deep breath and made a decision, no matter the cost, there was no way in hell I would willingly climb into that vehicle. As we reached the middle part of the stairs I turned and jammed my elbow into his jaw. Then with a scream, I jammed my elbow into his gut. He doubled over, loosening his grip and I took the moment to twist out of his grasp, as I twisted I pushed him as hard as I could, trying to put some distance between us. He tumbled down the stairs as I bolted up and back to my apartment.

My eyes and nose were streaming as I ran into my apartment and bolted the door. A thought came to me, and I rushed to the bathroom. Throwing open the door I saw that the window was wide open. I rushed over and slammed it closed and locked it. I felt like I was choking on the very air that I needed to breathe as I ran to my bed room and grabbed my cell phone off my night stand. I flipped it open and punched in the numbers 9-1-1 as fast as my fingers would go. I was crying when they answered asking me what my emergency was. Sobbing into the mic I tried to tell them what had happened. The lady on the other end told me to stay calm and gave me a few other directions about what I needed to do. I heard a tap come from my window, then the deep raspy voice came to me saying.

"I will never give up on you."

The phone fell from my hands and hit the floor. I began to panic. I stood up in my state of fear ran into the living room to see where my boyfriend was. My nose and eyes were streaming as I reached the couch. Somehow he was still asleep. Reaching forward I pulled off the blanket and let out a scream. His dead blue eyes stared at the ceiling, his face frozen in fear. On his chest was the result of multiple stab wounds. I dropped the blanket and backed away. My mind turned to my roommate. If that window was open then there could be the chance that she never left this morning. I flew down the hallway, and slipped, landing with a thud. I could now see that the puddle I had stepped in was blood, my hands and knees were covered in it. There was more blood smeared on the walls, placed like paint to decorate the outer edge of any picture with me in it. In the dim light, my blurry eyes hadn’t been able to see the mess. My hands were sticky as I got up and rushed even faster to my roommates' room. My hand slipped once on the door knob. When I finally had a grip I threw open her door, only to behold the gruesome mess. She was dead. There was no doubt about it. My body froze and my mind went numb. I didn't know what to do. I could hear more tapping coming from the other window as the man who had done all of this inspired more fear in my heart. I knew that in a moment he was going to break in here and kill me. My knees gave out and I hit the floor without even trying to catch myself. My face became covered in the blood that had pooled on the carpet. I could see a trickle of red coming out of my side, I must have been stabbed as I tried to escape and now I had begun to go into shock. Now I simply lay there, not able to move as I watched my blood trickle out of my side and mix on the carpet with that of my roommates.

I don't remember much of what happened next, I faintly recall hearing a siren and the front door being kicked in. I remember seeing the shoes of multiple people come into the room. I stared at the walls when I was picked up like a doll and carried from the house. I remember seeing my dead boyfriend still on the couch his blue eyes still holding his last sight before he was murdered, then I blacked out. When I woke up next I was laying on a gurney being prepared to be taken to the hospital. An officer was trying to speak to me. I could see his lips moving but I couldn't hear any of the words he was saying, and then I blacked out again. When I woke up in the hospital later I was told that I had been stabbed and had lost a lot of blood. They told me that my roommate and boyfriend were dead. They then began asking me to identify who had attacked me, but I could not recall a single detail about him other than his voice. It also meant that they had not caught the murderer. This is where my horror story ends.
Soon after my wound was healed and I was let out of the hospital; I went underground. I was given a new chance at life. I left the terrified girl named Jen behind, and though it had taken a long time I had done my best to put my past behind me. My new name was Ann and I had moved across the country to start my life over. I didn't want to live as Jen the girl who got her friends murdered or the girl that feared she was still being hunted.
                                 

Turning off the hot water I stepped out of the shower and got dressed. I pulled back my hair into a bun and got ready to go to work. I taught dance to young children at a studio one block away from my house. I sat on the edge of my bed and put on my shoes. Then I grabbed my dance bag and house keys and went out the door, locking it behind me. The sun was starting to peak over the horizon; as I walked its rays stretched to melt the frost off the ground. When I reached the studio I unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. I methodically worked on opening up the building, and then I lost my thoughts in teaching for the rest of the day. It wasn't till I looked out the window and realized that it was already dark that I felt a pang of fear in my chest. As the last class finished up I spoke to the other instructors. The instructors and I usually waited together till all of the children had been picked up by their parents. But tonight I designated myself to stay behind and wait for the few remaining students to be picked up. They thanked me and went on their way, excited to spend the evening with their loved ones. When the last student left I turned off the lights and locked the studio door. I felt exhausted as I started to walk home. My hair had begun to fall out of its bun, and to no avail I tried pushing it out of my face. Adjusting my bag on my shoulder I looked forward and froze. Someone was standing just beyond the nearest street light. Nervously I squinted trying to make out who it was. He stepped into the light so I could see his face. It was my boyfriend. He had his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face.

"Ann!" He called. "Happy Valentine’s Day!"

I smiled and walked towards him. He had come into my life about four months after I had changed my identity. He never pushed to hear about my past and I had decided to never tell him my tragic story, so naturally he didn’t know my real name. During the long time that I had been with him, he had become my steadfast rock. He had dark brown eyes that I felt safe in and a mischievous grin. Often I would call him up in the middle of the night, frightened with a memory of my past and he would be there in an instant, ready to comfort me. I walked up to him, wrapped my arms around him and gave him a kiss. Then we turned and began walking towards my house. It was late and the darkness was only interrupted by the occasional street light and distant star. He slung his arm around my shoulder holding me tight. Leaning his head in, he gave a quick kiss to my temple.

"Jen, do you remember something that I told you a while ago."
"What?" I said.
"I will never give up on you."

 His voice had become deep and raspy. My heart stopped as I made the realization and looked up into the dark eyes of my stalker.

Post #1

Hmmm... This being my first post I want it to be good. The only problem is that I do not know what to post about. Wait! I have an idea. I will tell the very embarrassing story of my stolen car. So it begins..

Unfortunately this story doesn't start with a happy and creative one liner. It all began the morning after my dog died. I know, not happy. Well the morning after we had to put my dog down I had decided that I was not going to school. My little sister had some sort of project that was critical for her to turn in, so being the good big sister that I am, I decided that I would wake up, take her to school then go home and right back to bed. Well she came into my room and told me that she need to go in five minutes, so groggily I rolled out of bed, put on my shoes, and pulled back my tangled hair. I grabbed a big sweater because I didn't want to have to take the trouble to look nice and then I grabbed my keys and wallet from the night stand. By then my little sister was fully ready to go so I made my way up the stairs and to the front door. I unlocked it and being the gentlewoman that I am held open the door so that my sister could go out first. She stepped out onto the porch step as I made to close the door. "Uh? Courtney?" She said. "Where is your car?" I turned around and sure enough the spot that I parked was empty. My mother makes me park on the road because she values the beautiful image of her house; like any good real estate woman would. So all that was left was the oil spots where my car had taken a leak on the road and gutter. I was so tiered and dazed that all I could do was stand there and look around the street for my car. Like some how it would just have turned on and moved its self down the street. Keep in mind that my neighborhood can be pretty sketchy at times. I turned my head slightly and called. "MOM. I think that someone stole my car." Ya I really thought that maybe someone had stolen it. Well after the hustle of getting my older sister to take my younger sister to school I realized that I had left my wallet in the console of my car. Something that I never do. Great I thought. Now I needed to get a new library card! And they got my $10 dollar Barnes and Nobel card! Okay those were not my first thoughts but that really did bother me. Well My mom gave me the number to the area police and had me make the report. She told me it would be a good experience. I grudgingly thought that I didn't deserve to have to have this particular experience.  Well I made the call and had to talk to one mean cop telling me that I had the wrong area and then I was given the number to a different station. The next cop was nice and helped me when I said that the car was stolen. I don't fully remember the conversation but I knew that someone was going to come and talk to me some more. After I got off the phone and told my mom that the police officer said that they were going to have someone else talk to me. She told me to go and look presentable in case they decided to make a house call. I gave her a shocked look. I did NOT want to get out of my pajamas, or to deal with the large amount of tangles in my hair. But I did what I was told and got ready for the day. Then I waited around for a police officer to come knocking at my door. Soon the phone rang and I ran for it in case it was for me. It was and this time a police officer asked me a series of questions. When I gave my license plate number to him he repeated it back but he used words like Delta and Echo. Then trying to be awesome I repeated it back to him with his choice of fancy words. I'm such a dork! I gave him any information that I could about my car to help the police identify it. He told me that he would get back to me if they had any information, he gave me a case number and that was it. I hung up and felt a little disappointed that I didn't get to talk to the police man in person. Being the dork that I am I would have loved to talk to an officer when I wasn't the one in trouble. Yes I have been pulled over a couple of times. But back to the story.. This all happened on a Wednesday morning and it wasn't till around noon that I had all of the police business finished. As a side note let me tell you something about this story that bothers me. I have some neighbors that are up and out at all hours of the day, so naturally my mother and I walked over to ask if they had seen or heard anything. They hadn't, which I don't blame them because I sleep like the dead. Well we were talking to one of them and they told me that they thought that it was my neighbor across the street and that they were trouble makers who were up to no good. Well the people who live across the street are a African American man, his wife who is part Hawaiian and part Caucasian, their two sons who are African/Caucasian/and Hawaiian. Their youngest son is one of my best friends and yes he always looks like trouble and his friends are even sketchier, but I have never met nicer people. So when everyone jumped to the assumption that it was my best friends dad that had taken the car I was angry. How dare they! What they didn't know because they are not neighborly people is that my friends dad had the radio stolen out of his car. So he also was a victim! Racist brats! More than one person had that theory and pretty soon I began to tune them out. The next day I had to be dropped off at school and then walk to work. When I arrived at work I had to get a new hat for my uniform because my old one had been laying on the back seat of my stolen car. It was funny when I had to tell one employee about my missing vehicle, because soon the news was pulsing about my work and every one made jokes about me and my car; which I learned is one of the easiest cars to break into. You don't understand how many times I have been told how easy my car is to steal. People really think that they have to let me know that they know everything just because they are older than I am. Well I made it through that shift and was exhausted as I walked home. It wasn't till Saturday when I had given up and gone to get a new library card that I got the phone call. Well I didn't get the phone call, my little sister did. It was my mom and she had gotten a hold of me through my little sisters phone because the vibrate had broken on mine and out of respect for people visiting the library I had turned off the sound. Well when I was handed the phone I ran out of the building; out of respect for the patrons. When I was outside my mom told me that she had found my car. It was in a church parking lot near my house, she also told me that everything was in it. I freaked out and probably scared everyone trying to enter the library. My mother told me that the police thought that I had left the car at the church and got drunk or did something else illegal and ended up getting a ride home with someone, then reported the car stolen so I wouldn't get into trouble. My mother assured the police that I was not that type of girl and that she trusted me and I assured my mom that a scheme like that requires more effort than it is worth. Now this is where the part about my recently passed dog comes in. His name was Rex and he was a real member and guardian of my family. Well he had been in our family for a long time. He was pretty old and had grown sick, and not the kind of sick that a quick trip to the vet could fix. We also didn't have the resources to get him the help that he needed and deserved. So for as long as he could be a happy dog, we let him do so. When the pain and sickness deprived him of his life and we knew that he was close to the end, we scheduled an appointment for Tuesday at 5:30 at the Animal Clinic and took him in. I elected to stay behind because I didn't want to watch the life fade from my beloved friend. My two sisters and mother must be stronger than I am because they went with to give him comfort as he passed. When my family came home we were all in tears and my younger sister and I decided that we didn't want to be at home so we went to the youth activity being held at my church. It felt good to have a distraction for a while, but the whole night I felt like I was in a daze.
The next morning when I woke up my car was gone. Within 24 hours I had lost my friend and my car. My life sucked, but when my mom found it at the church I felt a little bit better. Then she told me about the police saying that they think that I had done some thing wrong and gotten a ride home. The gotten a ride home part is what stuck in my head. A little memory came to the surface of my mind. I remembered being in someones car Tuesdays night. Then I put the pieces together. I hadn't driven home because I had only driven to the church and our group all got into one car and went to the bowling ally. Then when we separated they had just dropped me off at my own house. I still can't see the image really clearly but I know it is true. Now you are probably wondering why my little sister didn't remember why we had gone home in a different car, because I have the clearest memory of getting out of my car. An image that my brain had produced because I had done it all so many times that my brain naturally thought that had happened. Well my little sister remembered that we had been driven home by a leader that night, but only after I asked her about it. I believe that because we had been so clouded with grief that we both just shut down when we had gotten into the carpool car. Super weird. Ya...... So my car was not stolen, it was simply forgotten. IT WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN! So the story is that I am a sad idiot who actually couldn't remember correctly what she had done with her car, my brain really did invent the image of me getting out of my car, but not of me driving it because that never happened. Oh and in case anyone thinks I was drugged. I was not! I did not have any food or water at the activity. Well..... there is the story, take it or leave it. I hope you got a laugh out of my misery...