The Masked Killer - A.T Ben Saad || English

Chapter 19: Lola

Noah's iron grip is a vise around my arms, squeezing the color from my skin and leaving me breathless. A solitary tear escapes my eye, tracing a path down my cheek as the full horror of the situation comes crashing down. "Noah, please! Let me go!" I beg, my voice breaking with raw desperation. His eyes, those darkened, unfeeling orbs, lock onto mine, void of any shred of empathy or remorse. Suddenly, his face contorts into a grotesque mask of laughter, his head thrown back as if he's relishing a twisted joke. His thunderous, echoing laughter reverberates through the silent house, amplifying the dread that grips me.

I'm caught in a paralyzing limbo between hope and terror. His laughter, a chilling mockery of joy, dissipates as abruptly as it began. His gaze returns, emotionless and cold, and his eyes narrow as they linger on my body with a sick, predatory gleam. My heart races, skipping a beat as his finger traces a sinister path along my neck. "Can you feel this? Soon, this knife will follow the same path. You'll bleed out, slowly, agonizingly," he says, his voice dripping with a sadistic pleasure. The sheer malevolence in his tone sends waves of terror through me, making his every word feel like a knife twisting in my gut.

"Noah! Stop this!" I scream, my voice cracking with fear and desperation. I thrash against my bonds, my body wracked with futile, panicked movements. But then he places his finger on my lips, silencing me with a hissing whisper. "Ssshh..." His breath, hot and nauseating, washes over my ear as he leans in, pressing a repulsive kiss against my neck. The touch is sickening, and every fiber of my being recoils, but I am helpless, immobilized by my fear.

"To make things more interesting, I'm going to let you run," he whispers, his teeth grazing my earlobe with a sickening intimacy. "Don't women love being chased by their lover?" His voice is laced with a cruel mockery, his grin pressing against me like a vice. "Go on, run. It won't change the end of this game, but I do enjoy a challenge."

He finally pulls back, his thumb caressing the sharp edge of the knife with a leisurely, deliberate slowness. My heart pounds violently against my ribs, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps as I stare at him, paralyzed by fear and disbelief. He's about to do something unspeakable. "Hurry up!" he snaps, his voice slicing through the air with harsh urgency. I flinch against the wall, my head colliding painfully with the solid surface, and then I run, stumbling into the living room.

The shards of glass from the shattered window dig into my feet, each step a searing pain that mingles with the adrenaline fueling my frantic escape. I burst through the broken window and careen across the garden, my feet slipping on the wet grass. The glass shards embed deeper with every frantic step, and I stagger onto the paving stones, the pain intensifying with each contact. Keep moving, Lola, I tell myself through gritted teeth.

As I round the corner of the driveway, a searing, icy pain slices through my abdomen. For a heartbeat, I can't comprehend it, but when I look down, I see a blade buried deep in my stomach. Blood soaks through my white sweater, the vibrant red a stark contrast against the fabric. The world around me fades to a darker, more oppressive hue. The shadows of the world I thought was safe loom larger, as if gravity itself is conspiring to crush me into the ground. I sink slowly, the deafening ring in my ears drowning out all other sounds. When Noah pulls the knife from my belly, a faint, anguished cry escapes my lips. I clutch at the gaping wound, collapsing onto the pavement.

Through the swirling black spots clouding my vision, I look up at Noah with a mixture of disbelief and profound despair. I can hardly process the scene before me. Here I lie, bleeding and broken, on the cold, unforgiving ground, betrayed and wounded by the person I trusted most. I've been hurt before, but never in my worst nightmares did I imagine this—my final, cruel betrayal and death at the hands of someone I thought I could rely on.