When a STALKER kidnaps a SERIAL KILLER...
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In a twisted game of cat and mouse, a young woman becomes dangerously entangled with a masked serial killer she has been obsessively stalking, leading to a bizarre and clandestine...
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SPOTS OF RED slowly invade my yellow sundress. Everytime I attempt to breathe, blood oozes out from the stab wounds on my abdomen.
My whole body is getting weaker and weaker, while my head is getting dizzier. It makes my eyesight go hazy, only seeing objects around me with blurred shapes. I am starting to lose a lot of blood, and it's getting a toll on my wellbeing. I'd pass out soon, and then for a few more minutes...death.
No one's gonna help me. I'm utterly alone in this old warehouse with my kidnappers dead, and the only one who could've saved me - betrayed me. It's on me. It's what I get for trusting a psycho killer. Maybe Alexandra was right. Maybe I really need to have an appointment with Doctor Finnigan, get my sanity checked.
I can't die today. Not yet. Not when I haven't figured out what secret lies behind his bloody mask. It serves as an itch in my brain that only him can scratch.
I slowly roll to my side and get up. More blood gushes out from my ripped flesh as I exert effort to stand. I stumble to grab the excess clothes of Jim and then immediately wrap it around my wounded abdomen to add pressure so it won't release more blood. Good thing my years in nursing school came in handy.
I spot my purse on the table where the two heads of my kidnappers are placed. The thought of getting close to it makes me want to gag all my blood out, but I still proceed. I have to get my purse; I have my money and phone there.
I snatch it quickly with a disgusted yelp when out of the blue - Mickey's dick slides off from his mouth. The sound of a severed penis hitting the floor is like a fish flapping on the shore. It's weird and disturbing. And yet, kinda funny too.
My fingers shake as they try to dial 911 quickly. But the blood on my fingertips blurs the screen on my phone, making it slippery and hard to type. Though as I'm about to hit that last 1, my phone died. It's out of battery.
"FUCK!"
I look at the place around me. The warehouse is not that huge, therefore I can reach its door without passing out.
I try to drag myself toward the front entrance, limping and staggering, while my blood continues to pour out until it's gliding down my legs like I'm having my menstruation.
I shortly reach outside, then realize, I'm off somewhere in the countryside in the middle of nowhere. It's a moonless night, but I can clearly tell that there's a vast corn field behind the warehouse with cows and sheep strutting around without a leash.
I'm not sure what state I'm in, or what country, but I do know that I don't want to die here. I always thought I'd die on my bed, overdosed on sleeping pills, and looking beautiful like Marilyn - and NOT shanked like Sharon and with my messed up makeup.
I hobble down the narrow pathway of dirt until I reach the asphalt ground of an empty road. It's still a long walk to get back to civilization, and I don't think I would even last half way. I'm starting to fade out.
