The Girl Who Cried Wolf.

O

Sighing, apprehension slides off her body like a warm blanket, leaving her tired and drained.

She runs a hand through her hair. It must be in her head.

She's always been the type to overthink and create scenarios for something that never existed.

He probably didn't see her face, and it might have even been someone else for all she knew. As creepy as it was, there were some twisted people who supported the faceless killer and wore identical masks.

It could a prop for a TV show.

To play it safe, she stays in the stall for the rest of the day, and when the final bell rings, she tucks her phone into her pocket and dashes to her car.

She is glad she'd remembered to park it in the hidden cove behind the gate because only God knew what that creep of a history teacher would do when he caught her missing class.

Pressing the unlock button, she slides into her Audi, reclines the seat, and sighs.

"I can't believe today happened," she says.

'I don't know why you ran', Voice finally replies.

"Look who's talking. You said to run."

'And dying has always been on your list.'

"Maybe next time. I wasn't prepared for today."

'You're worth nothing. It'll be an honour for you to be killed by someone so famous. You won't have to think of the scenario yourself.'

"Well, this time, I can create the scenario for it since I saw him, so I'll be prepared. Next time, I'll let him have me. We don't even know if it was him anyway."

Voice doesn't say anything.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath...then takes several more.

Something sweet infiltrates her nose.

She opens her eyes to sit up when she sees smoke all around her car. Sweet-smelling smoke.

The hell?

She snatches the car door and pulls, but the latch won't budge.

Again and again and again, she yanks on it, but it's no use.

She's locked in.

She covers her nose, coughs, and bangs on the glass.

Friend appears near the gate with a couple of her mates, laughing at something, and she slaps the mirror, trying to get her attention.

But her actions grow weak.

Her arm slumps down as her body starts to feel heavy.

She blinks slowly, too slow, and by the time she opens her eyes, Friend is gone.

She drowsily turns around.

The smoke is too thick to see her own arm.

Groggily, her head lops to the side.

A black shirt appears between the plumes of smoke but her eyes roll back as her consciousness fades away.

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Her vision is dark.

She blinks.

Did she go blind?

Twisting her neck from side to side, something stretches over her skin and she realises a cloth is tied over her eyes and ears.

It's thick and dense, denying any sliver of light.

Uncomfortable, she struggles, her heart beginning to pound.

Her arms and legs are strapped to what seems like a bed beneath her, and the air is somewhat cramped.

Pictures and sounds rush into her mind as she recalls the last thing she saw.

A shirt. A black dress shirt.

And smoke that had filled her car.

The feeling of drowsiness and confusion.

She's been kidnapped.

Frightening thoughts cross her mind, and her breathing grows erratic.

She rarely offended anyone; she didn't even like people.

She hadn't even slept with any of the teachers for their wives to have come after her.

She hadn't kissed anyone's boyfriend either.

Who could be doing this?

A scratch of something against the earth steals her attention. Her head subtly turns to the sound as if she would see who it was.

Her palms grow clammy as she struggles to steady her breathing. There's a ruffling sound before something drops into what she assumes to be water.

A throat clears, and she stiffens.

The feet move further from her, and she takes the chance to test the bindings. Tight and rough like the fear gripping her, the bonds are unbreakable.

She counts down her head then forces herself to make a sound, but the feet hurry to her side before she can.

Hands descend on her bare leg, eliciting a blanket of goosebumps all over her skin, and a whimper escapes her.

The hands rise from her body and then return with a wet rag.

It's cold and unbearable soft, but she can't seem to pull herself out of the haze of terror swallowing her.

"I have money," her lips quiver. "I'll give you anything you want; please, please don't do this."

Her pleas are ignored as the hands move, washing her limb by limb.

"How much do you want? I can pay more than whoever sent you. I'll do anything, please."

Silence. And more wiping.

Bile rises up her throat. "I didn't touch anyone's husband outside of kissing, I swear! I did some things I shouldn't have, but I didn't do it because I wanted to. Please, I'll stay away if that's what you want! I'll-I'll change schools. I'll leave the country, please, anything!"

Silence.

Her tears soak the blindfold. "Say something!" She screeches, her chest constricting.

"I don't know or care what you did." The voice suddenly replies. "You could have been tossed around the whole football team for what I care, but you're not leaving this place when you've seen me."

Seen him, she pants.

What is he talking about?

She asks.

"Don't play dumb, little girl." The blindfold is ripped off her face, and angry eyes meet hers. "You saw the body at the beach, didn't you?"

Her heart sinks like a rock in the ocean.

It's him.

Death.

The serial killer.