the wrong side of loneliness | completed

5

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm lonely. I want to have someone be with me. And you're the most perfect girl I've ever seen, okay? You're so beautiful. But you would never be with me. You would be with someone like Tyler. Except everything started moving so fast. It didn't have to come to this, okay?" He cleared his throat. "My name is John. I'm sorry."

Selma wanted to scream. She had to get out of here. 

Pray, pray, pray.

And then a horrible thought appeared into her head. Had he done this before? Was he a serial killer? Had he killed other girls pretending to be Tyler? Or other guys? How many? 

She squeezed her eyes shut and lay her head down. 

"Let me go," she murmured into the floor. "I'll..." Her words faded away. She didn't know what to say. She wanted to curse him, curse the world, curse her stupid self. She had to make something up. Make him think that it was okay, that what he was doing wasn't wrong. 

 She couldn't die. 

She wouldn't die.

He was quiet.

Where was the knife? Selma's heart started to pound. If he stabbed her one more time, she was surely going to die. 

"What do you want me to say?" she whispered. She was so nauseous and faint. The world was starting to fade away into a dazed, black nightmare. She couldn't go to asleep. That meant death.

Please just please let it over be soon. 

"Oh, Selma," John said. "Would you really be with a guy like me?" 

"Yes," Selma murmured. "You won't be lonely anymore. We...have a connection." It was so disgusting. The whole thing. Everything was her fault. 

Lying in a pool of her own blood, Selma began to cry. She was really talking to Tyler, the man who didn't exist. She would never have a connection with this man. He was someone from her worst nightmares. Someone straight from hell.

I'm going to get out of here if it's the last thing I do. 

"Please," Selma said through her tears. "Please... please get me bandages. If we are in a relationship, we have to care for each other's wounds." Another wave of dizziness rocked through her, nearly making her gag. "They're in the bathroom cabinet, behind the box of soaps. And a blanket from my bedroom closet, please." Tears, tears. She couldn't stop crying, even though it exhausted her and made her even more sick. 

Her life had unfortunately come to this and she knew she couldn't die like this. 

She knew what she had to do.

"Are you sure you're going to be there for me when I get back?" he asked. 

"I'm going to die if you don't hurry up," Selma said through gritted teeth. 

The chair squeaked as he pushed himself up and went to search for the things Selma had requested. 

Her phone lay behind the chair, its screen cracked. As soon as he was out of the living room, she scrambled to get the phone. She moved slowly, but she managed to retrieve the phone and quickly dialed the number.

9. 1. 1.

She was holding her breath again. The operator picked up.

"Please help me. I'm going to get killed." 

He was still rummaging around in her things. He was so noisy and ruinous, as if his mission was to destroy everything she owned. 

With her cell phone pressed against her ear, the operator asked a stream of questions. The rummaging stopped. A cabinet slammed.