the wrong side of loneliness | completed

4

No, this wasn't Tyler.

This was entirely someone else.

Ty had longish brown hair and a lean, athletic body. He was 24.

The man standing in front of my door had graying hair and what looked like a beer gut. He was old. Way old.

Selma had been catfished.

And it had worked. So easily.

She felt sick. Her mouth was dry and her hands were clammy and shaky. She had to grip the knife tightly in order to not drop it onto the floor. She was so stupid. Why, why, why?

"I don't know who that is." Selma tried to sound confident, but her trembling voice gave it away. Hopefully he couldn't hear it through the door. 

"I'm Tyler, you're Selma," the man said. His voice softened. "I know, I know...I don't look like the guy. I have some explaining to do." He scratched the back of his head again. "I'm sorry."

"I don't understand why you did that," Selma said harshly. "That is really weird. You're a weirdo. Accept it. Now please get out of the complex before I call the police."

Her heart was racing and her eyes brimmed with tears. How could she be so dumb? Now she had put herself in an unlucky situation. 

She would have to call the police either way. 

If he left, he could be pretending. She could leave her apartment and he could be waiting downstairs, ready to kill her. Choke her to death.

She dug her nails into her palm. Stop thinking like that.

"It isn't like that!" He cried. "I was looking for a genuine connection. I didn't mean to..." He trailed off, sounding like a whiny child. "Do you still want to eat lunch? Go on a date? Reservations for--"

She stopped listening. Pathetic.

Selma turned away from the door. "Fuck off."

How did she let this happen? It was her own fault. Excitement had caught up to her. Made it seem that she could meet this hot guy from a dating app and fall in love within a couple of text messages. That he was actually interested in her and wanted to pursue her. He would pick her up in a nice car and they would go to a movie and eat something good after. Selma had thought she was in some kind of romantic movie. 

Life didn't work like that. 

She was so stupid and blind.

BOOM.

The noise of the man kicking the door with all his force made Selma jump and let out a scream. 

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. 

The man was kicking the door with all his might, trying to break it down. Trying to burst through the door and do something terrible to Selma. 

Within a second, Selma was running to her bedroom and trying to find her phone. Not there. Fuck. The kitchen table. She ran to the kitchen, starting to hyperventilate. 

She dialed 911 as tears streamed down her face. She was going to have a panic attack.

It seemed like it happened under a second. Or it seemed like time had suddenly frozen and everything had gone still in the world. 

There was a final BOOM and the sudden earsplitting sound of splintering wood. 

Before she could scream into the phone, a pair of large, cold hands wrapped around Selma's throat. And then she found herself facedown on the floor, tasting metallic blood in her mouth. Thrashing and screaming for help.

But no.

She couldn't scream.

The world was still. Time was frozen. She was frozen.

Her dad's voice bounced pointlessly around in her head. The eyes, the throat, even the balls, Selma. Fight with your all. Don't give up.

A single tear escaped her eye and rolled down her face. There was no one around to hear. Her neighbors, a family of 4, was on vacation. They would be coming back tomorrow.

Please. Please God. Please anybody.

She felt the tip of the knife pushing into her back. "You were going to use this against me?" A wheezy laugh. 

Selma balled her hands into fists. What was the plan? She had to think of a plan.

But there was no time. She couldn't fight back. She opened her mouth, ready to beg for her life. 

Please I can't go. Please. Please I just can't go I can't I'll do anything. 

The knife plunged into her. Not that deep, but enough to make her bleed.

She screamed. The edges of the world started to turn black. 

"I really liked you, Selma," said the man. He ran his hand through her hair as he pulled out the knife from her back. Selma felt vomit rising in her throat. Black dots clouded her vision and made her woozy. "But you're being very rude to me. I don't like rude girls. When you tell someone to fuck off, people don't usually like that." He sucked in a huge breath. "We really had that connection. We are so strong together. Didn't you think? It was almost love."

Selma managed to push herself up with her forearms. "Why?" She struggled to use her voice. Something that was so simple. "I--"

A slap came next. Her head rocked back and her body crumped to the floor.

You have to accept that you're going to die today.

The man threw the knife down onto the floor and stalked into the kitchen. She heard the kitchen cabinets and drawers opening and closing. He threw things and started to become more aggressive as the minutes ticked by. The sound of glass shattering bounced off the walls.  "Where are the goddamn--?"

She had to get away. The front door was barely hanging on. The front door.  It was a blur. Had 5 minutes even passed? Selma pushed herself up with a small groan. Pain that felt like fire bolts shot up her back and nearly blinded her.

The front door.

He was still rummaging around in the kitchen.

She had time.

Holding onto the wall, Selma hobbled forward. Blood trickled from her back. She was getting fainter by the second. Once she passed the front door, she could crawl. Yes. This was going to be just fine.

The noises in the kitchen stopped.

With a cry, Selma exited the apartment, holding onto the wall and walking as fast as she could. She could hear him coming behind her.

Knife in hand? She didn't know.

She had to make it to the stairs.

Her legs gave out. She dropped onto her knees and tried to crawl away as fast she could. 

Tears swam in her eyes. 

You're not going to die if you keep crawling. Keep crawling, little crab. 

Please save me whoever's out there. Please.

Life didn't work like that.

He grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her back into the apartment, propping the door back up against the wall. The man threw Selma back onto the floor and stomped back into the kitchen, bringing back a chair with him. He put it against the door and collapsed into it.

His eyes narrowed. His arms were crossed over his chest.

Selma squeezed her eyes shut. She hadn't prayed to anything in a long time, but now she prayed to everything that had ever existed. Somehow, she had gotten a cut above her eyebrow. The blood was starting to trickle downwards. She could smell it. Her stomach turned.

He opened his mouth and began to talk.