Whispers of a Monster

Chapter 1: The Night of Terror

Ryan's Pov :

It was my birthday. I don't think I'll ever forget it. Not because of the cake or the presents, but because of, the biting, never-ending cold..and what happened after.

20 years ago, on that snowy night, Mom had been worried the whole drive. The snow was coming down hard, and we could barely see the road. She kept saying, "Maybe we should just go back, it's too dangerous." But I didn't want to turn back. We had been planning this trip for weeks, and I didn't care about the snow. I just wanted to reach the cabin. It was my birthday, and I made sure to remind her. "We have to go, please! It's my birthday!"

Dad had sided with me. "He's right, we're almost there. Let's not disappoint the birthday boy, alright?" he said with a smile, even though his hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. The windshield wipers worked overtime, pushing the snow aside. I stared out into the blur of white, excited about the trip ahead.

We finally reached the cabin. It was nestled deep in the woods, and the snow-coated trees looked like something out of a fairytale. My older brother, Dylan, and I rushed out of the van as soon as it stopped, eager to play in the snow. The air was cold, but we didn't care. We were free, running and laughing, throwing snowballs at each other while Mom and Dad unloaded the bags.

After a few minutes, Dad headed off towards the well at the side of the cabin to get some water. Mom was still organizing things inside the van. I was too busy with Lucas, pelting him with snowballs, to notice how quiet it got.

It wasn't until I heard Dad's voice calling out, "Oliver? You alright?" I stopped. He had a strange tone to his voice. I turned and saw him walking towards the van, his steps quickening. "Stay here," he called to us, but I didn't listen. I never listened.

I followed him, my breath coming out in white puffs, my boots crunching against the snow. And that's when I saw it. The man. The flash of a knife. The blood spilling over the snow.

Mom was on the ground, her hands clutching her stomach where the man had stabbed her. Dad froze for a second before charging at the man, tackling him away from her. "Run!" Dad yelled. "Get out of here!"

Mom staggered to her feet, her face pale. "Come on, boys! We need to go!" she screamed, grabbing my hand. I couldn't move. I couldn't stop staring at Dad as he wrestled the man, the man with cold, dead eyes.

Dylan grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the van. Mom was pushing us inside. "Lock the doors. Don't come out, no matter what happens," she said, her voice shaking. She kissed the top of my head, her eyes filled with fear. "I love you. Take care of each other."

I didn't want her to leave. I wanted to scream, to tell her not to go back out there. But she was gone in an instant, running back to where Dad was. And then, through the window, I saw it.

The man turned his attention to her. Dad yelled something, but it was too late. The knife flashed again. Mom fell to the ground, and this time, she didn't get up.

Dylan grabbed my arm again, pulling me under the seat. "Don't look. Just don't look." But I couldn't stop myself. Tears were already spilling down my cheeks. My heart raced, thudding so loud I thought the killer would hear it.

The van windows shattered suddenly, glass spraying everywhere. The man was inside. I covered my mouth to keep from screaming, and Dylan grabbed a nearby suitcase. He shoved me inside it, zipping it up quickly. "Stay quiet, no matter what."

I heard his footsteps coming closer. My brother tried to hide under the seat, but the sound of his breathing gave him away. The man's boots crunched on the broken glass as he stepped closer, searching the van. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I was sure he could hear it too.

There was silence, and for a moment, I thought maybe he had left. But then the suitcase shifted. He had found me.

Just as he was about to unzip it, Dylan sprang from under the seat, screaming as he tried to stab the killer with a small knife he'd grabbed from the floor. It wasn't enough. The man knocked him aside like he was nothing. I wanted to scream, to fight, but my body wouldn't move.

Suddenly, there were voices outside, loud and close. The man froze, looking toward the sound. Then, without a word, he turned and disappeared into the snow.

I lay there, trembling, unable to move. The last thing I remember before everything went dark was Lucas lying on the floor, blood spilling from a deep cut on his side, and the distant sound of police sirens echoing through the snow covered forest.

I was taken to the hospital, shaking uncontrollably. Dylan was in the emergency room, fear etched on my face. They asked me questions, but I couldn't find the words.

After what felt like hours, a detective walked into the room, determination etched on his face. "Can you tell me what happened?" he asked, his voice steady but urgent.

I sat there, the detective's words piercing through the silence, but no answers came. My mind felt like a tangled web, each thread pulling me in different directions, leaving me paralyzed in a haze of panic.

The detective's patience was wearing thin, and I could sense his irritation growing as he looked at me, bewildered by my unmoving features and the deafening silence that filled the room. His eyes reflected a mix of disbelief and anger, desperate for an answer that wouldn't come. He had given up on me.

Suddenly I saw a picture on the wall..a doctor smiling who was smiling. Panic surged through me, and I screamed, "It was him! He's the one!" Tears streamed down my cheeks as I recalled the face of the killer.

The detective's expression shifted, confusion mixing with concern. "What do you mean?"

In a surge of courage, I pointed to the picture. "He killed my mom and dad!" My voice trembled as I spoke, fear wrapping around me like a vice.

The detective exchanged glances with the officers before stepping closer. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" I cried, my heart racing. "I saw him! He was there!"

With a nod, the detective gathered the officers. "We need to check his house," he ordered, urgency in his tone.

As they prepared to leave, I felt a spark of hope. Maybe we could catch him after all. But then I realized I couldn't just let this go. I needed to know the truth.

Before anyone could stop me, I slipped into the police car, hiding in the backseat. I had to see this through.

When we arrived at the doctor's house, the tension was visible. The detective ordered the officers to search the premises. I waited, heart racing, praying they would find something.

But after a thorough search, they returned empty handed. "There's nothing here," one of the officers said, skepticism clear in his voice.

"Do you really believe a child's word?" another added, doubt hanging in the air.

Just then, I burst from my hiding place, a knife clutched in my small hand. In a moment of desperation, I lunged toward the doctor, scratching his face. Blood trickled down his cheek, and I felt a surge of power, a momentary victory.

But in the chaos, I lost my footing, tripping over a snowman in the yard. As I fell, I caught sight of something horrifying inside it—plastic limbs, lifeless and cold. "No! My parents!" I wailed, the reality crashing down on me.

In that moment, I knew this wasn't over. The doctor was the one who killed my parents, and he would pay for what he had done.

It was all a blur from that point on..sirens, voices, the weight of what I had just done crashing over me. I remember the moment they finally took him away, the "Headhunter", the man who had killed almost 20 people. The man who had killed my parents.

As they led him to the police car, I caught a glimpse of his eyes, cold and calculating. The nightmare was far from over, but at least, for now, he was behind bars..

stay tuned for the next chapter😈