Run

Chapter 1: News

The news had been silent for a few days, my TV playing as the background noise.

I was doing bills, and I always had to have background noise.

A serial killer was quickly making his way to my town. If he wasn't in it already.

People were terrified, and I didn't have a single thought about it. I grew up watching crime with my mom, so serial killers were a norm.

The city I lived in when I was younger had murders surrounding my neighborhood.

But this killer is special.. he rips the throats from his victims necks. As if to say gotcha.

And if he doesn't have time, he shoots them in the head, but that's rare. His main focus is teens and children, though I wouldn't be able to explain why.

Maybe he likes the thrill of watching people run away? The adrenaline.

My friend, Molly, doesn't like the situation at all, but she's more weirded out that I have an obsession over the killers thoughts.

"You're crazy, Lilah.." She had said to me.

I'm not crazy, I'm just confused about how someone who used to be so innocent could become someone so evil.

See, I could never kill anyone out of pure spite. Jeffrey Dahmer seemed to have a peculiar sense of thought, but he didn't think much into his actions.

I'm surprised he wasn't caught sooner.

Or Ted Bundy. Some of his victims still haven't been found, even though he'd given pin points.

I'd felt bad for those victims. They never got rest. They're lost out there underground or in an ocean.

Maybe their souls are trapped, maybe not.

I'm not hyperfocused or in tone with the dead. Some people have the thrill of seeking out the lost and broken who are trapped in the hell we call Earth. I, however, am not.

Ghosts are scarier than people.

Scarier than Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer, and anyone else with the thought of harming someone.

Ghosts have a way of going throughout their misery and haunting people they've considered done them wrong.

If I were a ghost, I would also hunt down people like killers.

It's either kill or be killed. When I'm watching a crime or horror, I never understand why some people stand there and accept their fate.

If you accept your fate, you die.

Why would you accept your fate and die as a coward? Why not run? You're going to die either way, that is if you escape.

I got up, going to my kitchen, the wood floors were surprisingly cold on my feet.

"Damn, I need groceries," I stared into the almost empty refrigerator.

I grabbed the coffee I made earlier and sipped on it. Cold. Like everything else.

Cold are what things are when they die. They say you feel a cold breeze when there's a spirit around, but a corpse is also cold.

Drained of all the life and memories it once had, but somehow, the spirit still there.

I know I'm not crazy, I'm just rational.

In the parking lot, I got out of my jeep, with my purse, wallet, and phone in hand.

It was 6 pm, and the sky was dark. I don't know why, because it was barely dusk.

Searching my bag, for my credit card, I found it and continued walking towards the store.