My Undead Tormentor

Trust Issues and Tombstones

Her breath came in ragged gasps, heart slamming against her ribs. Her feet barely hit the ground as she sprinted through the graveyard, the shadows seeming to reach out, to pull her back. The night air felt suffocating, pressing in on her from every side as her legs burned, but she didn’t stop.

She didn’t dare stop.

Behind her, she could hear him laughing. A low, guttural sound that sent chills down her spine. The ground beneath her seemed to shift as she ran, and she could feel his eyes on her, like icy hands gripping her neck, pulling her toward him, but she didn’t stop.

Lena’s heart was pounding in her chest as she sprinted toward the gate. Her breath came in ragged gasps, She had to get out. There was no other choice.

She sprinted towards the gate, panic clawing at her chest as she heard his heavy footsteps closing in. She yanked on the rusty iron handle with all her strength, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. Her breath hitched, eyes frantically scanning her surroundings—no way out. The walls were too high to climb. She had to get out. She had no choice.

Her hands trembled, but desperation won out. She placed her foot carefully in every nook and cranny of the decrepit gate, using them to scale the rickety structure. Her heart hammered, her mind screaming at her to hurry. Almost there.

She was almost there, her hands gripping the top of the rusted gate, her heart pounding as she neared freedom. But then—her shoe got stuck. She jerked at it, desperation making her pull harder, the fabric of her sneaker scraping against the rough metal.

In one frantic motion, the force of her tug threw her off balance.

No!

Before she could even scream, she was falling, the ground rushing up to meet her. She fell hard, landing on her back with a sickening crack. Her leg bent beneath her, the force twisting her foot at an unnatural angle. A sharp pain shot up her spine as she gasped, clutching at the ground to steady herself. Blood oozed from the deep gash on her palm where it had scraped against the rusted metal. She couldn’t move her foot, not without a searing jolt of pain. Her heartbeat was a deafening roar in her ears.

This can’t be happening, she thought wildly. She couldn't climb the wall now. She couldn’t even stand.

But she had to get away. She couldn’t let him catch her. Her mind raced, and then she saw it—the shed. Her eyes locked onto it. She could make it. She had to.

With a painful hiss, she pulled off her hoodie and wrapped it tightly around her injured hand. She ignored the pain in her foot, hobbling toward the shed as quickly as her injured body would allow. She kicked dirt over the blood that had spilled onto the ground—she had to hide the evidence, hide the truth.

She froze, listening to the sound of his footsteps growing louder. Her heart raced as panic surged again. Without thinking, she grabbed a heavy rock from the ground, her hands slick with sweat. She threw it with all her might, sending it flying out of view. The sound of it crashing against the dirt echoed through the night, mimicking the noise of someone leaping over the gate.

Holding her breath, she listened closely, praying it would be enough.

Behind her, she heard the sound of footsteps growing closer, echoing through the graveyard. She opened the door of the shed, its old hinges groaning in protest. She closed it silently and bolted it, her breath ragged and shallow. Without a second thought, she dove under a dusty table, curling into the tight space beneath, clutching the overturned dustbin like it was her only lifeline.

And then—a soft meow.

Her breath caught in her throat. She looked around frantically, and there, tucked in the corner of the shed, was the tiny kitten she had seen earlier. It was shaking, eyes wide and terrified, but it had survived. A wave of relief rushed through her, and instinctively, she tucked it into the folds of her hoodie, whispering softly, “Stay quiet… please.”

The sound of the gate creaking open echoed through the stillness of the night, the unmistakable sound of metal scraping against metal. He had the keys. The realization hit her like a wave. This had all been planned. She had walked right into his trap.

Her mind raced, her breath coming in shallow gasps. What had she really seen? Was it even real? The confusion swirled in her head. She strained her ears, hearing nothing but the distant crunch of leaves under heavy footsteps.

She closed her eyes and clutched the cross she had kept hidden in her pocket. Her fingers gripped it like a prayer, willing it to help her. She could hear his slow, deliberate steps outside the shed. Was he searching for her? She couldn’t tell.

She cursed him. Cursed the sicko who had posted that ridiculous ad. She cursed herself for being dumb enough to think it would be a harmless job. No one even knew she was here—hell, she barely knew what she was walking into. She could practically hear him cackling, probably sitting somewhere with a bag of popcorn, enjoying the show as she fumbled her way through his twisted game.

She cursed herself for trusting the wrong people. For trusting anyone. What was she thinking? Next time, she’d just stick to finding a job that didn’t involve graveyards, creepy sheds, and homicidal maniacs.

But most of all, she cursed the creepy bastard who had been chasing her, the one who had taunted her from the shadows. She wasn’t sure what kind of twisted game he was playing, but she wasn’t going to let him win.

With every quiet, terrified breath she took, she prayed. Prayed he wouldn’t find her, prayed she could make it out of this alive.
_______________________

She jolted awake, the sunlight creeping through the gaps in the shed door, casting long, dusty beams across the floor. She had no idea when she’d fallen asleep, but the sharp ache in her body was a reminder of how long she’d been on edge. Her hand had stopped bleeding, the dried blood now just a crusty stain. She was still clutching the kitten, its tiny body tucked into the folds of her hoodie like a strange, furry comfort.

Limping painfully to the door, she paused and listened, holding her breath. The only sound was the annoying chirping of birds outside. She cracked the door just a sliver, peeking out cautiously. No one in sight.

Her pulse raced as she spotted the gate—left wide open. What the hell?

Maybe he was really convinced she’d made a clean getaway and had forgotten to lock it behind him. The idea felt too simple to be true, but she wasn’t about to question her luck. Without wasting a second, she hobbled toward the gate, her limp making her every step more painful than the last. She needed to get out—now.

her phone... of course it was cracked when she’d fallen yesterday. There was no way to call anyone for help.

She cursed under her breath, glancing at the shattered screen. Great. Just great.

With no other choice, she limped her way home, the journey taking forever. What should have been a quick 20-minute walk last night stretched into nearly an hour of agonizing pain.

She finally made it home, each step a painful reminder of how much she had just been through. She could hardly believe it—no one had been around the entire walk, which felt like a stroke of luck

Each step sent a jolt through her body, and she was drenched in sweat by the time she finally reached her front door. Her vision swam in and out, the dizziness from the pain almost too much to bear.

She slammed the door behind her, bolted it shut, and the moment the latch clicked, she let out a shaky breath.

Without a second thought, she dropped the kitten onto the floor, its tiny body scrambling away in confusion. She barely noticed it, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion. She stumbled toward her bed, collapsed face-first into the comforter, and within seconds, her mind shut off. The weight of everything—the terror, the pain, the relief—was too much.

She passed out, too tired to even care anymore