Hell Himself

You can't get away from me.

As I stood there, staring widely at the spot where he was, seconds ago, I didn't notice the blood streaming down my arm, dripping down onto my jeans. When I looked down and saw it, I cursed under my breath and winced, wiping the blood off of myself and groaning. I was pissed; who did he think he was? The cut started to sting and ache, so I made my way out of the alley quickly.

I held my arm as I walked down the streets of people, who stared and gasped at the amount of blood on my arm. My walk turned into a desperate run, my breathing growing more rapid and heavy as my steps got quicker. Before I knew it, I was sprinting down the city, trying to find my own way to the local hospital.

I ran, ran, and ran, and ran until I eventually found my way to the hospital. I was sprinting for a good half hour, so I quickly stopped in front of the entrance, my left hand on my chest, breathing quickly and trying to catch my breath again. My legs were shaking, my knees twitching and sweat beads forming all over my skin. I entered the hospital, going to the front desk.

I spoke frankly through my heavy breaths, "I need help; someone stabbed me..."

The receptionist looked at my right forearm, wincing and turning to her computer, typing some things on it. A few minutes of this went by before she spoke.

"Alright, I've managed to get a doctor to squeeze you in for a quick one." She put a hand on my back, leading me down the hallway and to a room. "Doctor Jones is going to take care of you."

I nodded, opening the door and stepping inside, seeing a doctor with brown hair, green eyes, round black glasses, and a white lab coat on, writing on a clipboard. He turned his head up, smiling at me and putting his clipboard to the side.

"Ah! You must be..." There was a short pause, glancing at his clipboard, before back to me and sighing with a smile. He pointed to the bed. "Ameri. Come, sit down here for me, I'll patch you up."

I nodded, smiling back and sitting on the bed and holding my arm out for him. He sat in front of me, putting gloves on and taking my arm, laying it on the small table that separated us.

"So, who stabbed you? What did they look like? Can you remember?" He asked, and I paused. I stammered before I composed myself.

"I don't know who he was, but he was tall; 6'3' or something, and he had black and white cornrows, brown eyes, and pale skin." I described, watching as the doctor slowly looked up at me, his face dropping, as if he knew who he was.

"What?" I asked, but I only got a smile and a small head shake in return. He stayed silent after that, sewing my arm closed and cleaning the cut with antibiotic wipes and washing it off of the rest of my arm. The tingling feeling of the alcohol cleansing my wound made me wince quietly, grimacing at the feeling.

It was only when I was fixed up that he spoke again. "There you go; you should be okay. If it gets infected or anything, come back, and we'll sort it." He smiled and stood up; but I didn't miss the small eye roll and judgy look he flahsed as he turned around.

I sighed, looking down and pausing. I got to my feet, making my way over to the door. Just when my hand laid over the handle, I heard his voice again.

"Oh, and, Ameri?" He began, making me turn my head around to look back at him. "Be careful." It was just a simple sentence, but in this situation, with his tone, it sent harsh shivers down my spine.

I nodded, feeling my heart drop down to my knees with fear. I left the hospital room, stopping in my tracks as I saw the hallway completely dark, with a singular light flickering at the end of the hall. The door behind me slammed shut; I felt like I was in a horror movie.

I heard the buzz of the light bulb, down the hall, my head instinctively turning to the sound. My eyes widened once I saw a figure appear there, right underneath the light, just enough to make a silhouette of the body.

My breathing went short, fast, and shaky. I froze in my own fear, my knees quivering. The light shut off, leaving pitch black dark in the hallway. I stayed still, quiet and terrified.  I heard footsteps, which slowly turned into runs. That's when I sprinted into the opposite direction. I ran into doors, shoving them open. My eyes caught onto a source of light; the lobby. I ran into that specific direction, slamming the door open.

I screamed when I saw the scene in front of me.

The receptionist was bent over the desk, her neck snapped, bone sticking out of the skin. The other patients that were in there were all cut up, bruised, and slit in the neck, obviously done by a knife. I felt a hand around my mouth, another sliding around my waist, until the whole arm was around me. I felt a warm body pressed up against my back, a head close to my ear. I was practically hugged; trapped in this grip. My eyes watered, filling with tears that were so thick, my vision went glassy and wobbly. I suddenly heard a voice.

"Oh, please, Ameri, stop crying." He chuckled menacingly into my ear, the hand round my mouth shifting, his thumb wiping away a shedded tear.

I whimpered; the voice was familiar. My stomach snapped in fear as I realised who it was. I didn't know his name, who he was; anything. It scared me how he knew my name, or even worse; where I was all the time. Of course, it was him, again.

I whispered through his fingers, my tears surfacing the outline of his thumb.

"How did you find me...?" He chuckled again, shaking his head. I felt him tilt his head back, staring at the ceiling. He sighed.

"Oh, Ameri. Ameri, Ameri..." He said my name slowly, mockingly and scarily. "Ameri..."

I squeaked out of sheer fear, feeling his hand over my lips once more. He hushed me while I cried and trembled in his forceful grip while he kept snickering at me.

"I have eyes, dear. I have eyes everywhere." My heart just kept dropping, ripping and squirming in my chest as his words sunk in, which made me overthink everything I had done today, yesterday, and so on.

"What...?" is all I could muster, my small, scared voice being muted and muffled while his slim, long fingers wrapped around my face tighter.

"Hm..." He hummed, as if thinking or remembering. "Dr. Jones... the cashier... th-"

I stopped him before he could speak anymore. My bidy shifted, my left leg lifting up as I stomped on his left foot, listening to him growl in pain and tense up, tightening his grip on my frail body.

"Oh, you sneaky bitch." He growled and chuckled through gritted teeth, grabbing my hair and throwing me at the wall, making me crash down and slam at the floor.

Winces and whines exited my lips. My legs were frozen, unmoving. I could only crawl, like a soldier, or try to. He stomped on the back of my left leg, stopping me and making me scream.

"Let go of me!" I began, squealing in pain and covering my mouth, squeezing my eyes shut.

"You can't. Get. Away. From me..." He muttered, so menacingly as he glared down at me. His lips parted once more, and a soft yet cold whisper flowed out of his lips. "Ameri Salazine."

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