Who Took My Hand?

It's a horrid, rainy saturday night in Alaska U.S.A. and the winds are blowing bikes over from the streets next to the bar, the trees are ticking on the windows with their branches and leaves are falling out onto the northern roads, hail strikes down on the glass as beers are ordered, and shots are taken.

Clara, twenty five years of age brunette, her hair done up in a bun, her and her girl friends were at the bar, drinking shot after shot. Her friends were Maril, Dianne and Shannah, the four were known to be in this bar every saturday exactly at ten past nine P.M. to eleven thirty, the girls were loud and obnoxious always telling each other out loud about the deals they were making as call-center girls. They always came in with coupons they earned at work for discounts at the bar.

Tonight Clara became drunk again, known as a dirty-drunk her friends kept her away from any guys and girls that seemed interested in her. She would lose her wisdom and just fling herself up on anyone's lap. Well, tonight something would change for Clara, who got taken home by her friend Maril, she was escorted to her door, and Maril said something about some car and that she would call the police later if the car stayed there for an hour or more.

Maril would drive off not knowing what would end up happening to her friend. Clara went up the first flight of stairs and found that the downstairs kitchen window was open, annoyed at it being so cold she closed it, not noticing the wet foot prints that were beneath the window on the floor. When walking up the stairs all she could feel was the cold on the stairs thinking nothing of it, she went up nonetheless and into the bathroom, taking off her clothing and entering her cold shower to regain some of her hydration she also grabbed a cup, drinking her shower water in hopes of saving some money instead of running the tap.

Clara, who showered, had not noticed the bath towel that she put out had moved on to the toilet, which was up the first time that she came in, currently it was down. Clara, who thought that she might be a little too drunk, ran the tap anyway after showering, drinking some more water. For some reason she felt like she was being watched standing at the sink, so she closed the door out of paranoia and just to put down the voice that was in her head telling her everything was wrong. She was drunk for hells sake, she could have put down the toilet and just have a bad feeling in general. So instead she got dressed in her night-gown and went into her bathroom from the adjacent door to skip her hallway.

Sleepy after a day of hard work, and drinking with her friends, Clara went off to sleep in her bed and turned off her lights. As she fell asleep she thought she heard a rustling under her bed, but imagined that it was just her bedsheets dragging on the floor.. Fifteen minutes went by, and the drowsy Clara was woken up by some sort of dull feeling, and it came from her right hand. When she held up her hand she counted her fingers, One, two, three, four.

Yeah that is all the fingers there if you do not count the thumb she thought to herself. She went back to sleep thinking nothing was wrong, before she went back to sleep and got woken up again to the dull feeling having spread to another finger. One.. Two.. Three.. Hmm, she might be dreaming, she thought to herself. She stopped waking up after that time until about an hour later, and she heard police sirens and the dull feeling had moved to her wrist, waking up to cops knocking on her front door, Clara quickly walked down the stairs, and opened the front door, asking the cops what was the matter, her friend ran to her and hugged her friend, seemingly in shock and fear at something around her right arm.

When Clara looked down her hand was gone, the cops explained to her that there was a murderer who liked to follow women home, and take away parts of their bodies as they were asleep by using roofies administered at the local bar, the one bar they would always visit. Clara was brought to the hospital, and after lots of physical therapy was given a prosthetic hand, after this Clara always made sure to check her house and locks before closing the front door, and would always keep a weapon next to her bed.