I was on the ground, in a pool of something warm and sticky and red. I blinked rapidly to clear the tiredness out of my eyes.
"What is this stuff?" I croaked.
Then the strong, coppery scent reached my nose and I noticed it was my own blood.
I held back a wave of vomit, although I doubt I had anything in my stomach left to give.
How was I alive? The girl had stabbed that knife right into my heart. I had collapsed. How did I survive?
I felt a piercing pain in my chest, which seemed to justify that these questions were irrational. I held my shaking hand to my chest.
I pulled it away, trying not to notice it was stained cherry red.
I feebly stood up, and hobbled out of the bathroom and into the hallway, my feet making the floorboards creak.
Was the girl still here? Were there more where she came from? Did she know I was alive?
My questions were all answered with one deadly, hissing whisper.
"We're still here, Kella. And we still want to play. Do you want to play?"
I screamed, hobbling as fast as I could to the phone, fumbling to dial the number of the only person I knew could help me.
Donald.
The phone rang once.... Twice...
"Pick up, Donald!" My mind screamed.
Three times... Four...
I was ready to just cry out.
"Hello?"
I almost squealed in delight, but then a new round of white-hot pain sprung to my chest.
"Donald." I wheezed. "Please come here. I need your help."
I could hear his concern through the phone.
"Kell.... What's going on?"
"Please Donald. Please just come over!" I pleaded, close to sobbing out of sheer desperation. "Please."
He must have sensed my fear.
"I'll be there right away. Don't worry."
Click.
I sunk to the ground, no longer strong enough to stand.
I waited for what seemed like forever, just waiting tensely for any more of the hissing whispers. But none came.
For a second, I almost wished they would just kill me.
And then Donald came running through the door.
I lit up, almost forgetting my pain until the I saw the look on his face as he took in my wound.
"Kella! What happened?!" He gasped.
"No time to explain.., just... Help me."
He ran to get bandages and wrapped up my wound in two seconds flat. Donald had been training for a while to become a doctor, and I've never been so glad that he had that skill as I was then.
He helped me up slowly and slung my arm around his shoulder.
"Kella.... We want to play."
I screamed.
"THEY'RE BACK! SHE'S BACK!"
Donald almost had a heart attack.
"Who's back?!" He said. A fearful look tainted his bright green eyes.
And his question was answered when a butcher knife went straight through his stomach and sent him crumpling to the ground in a gorey heap.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I was inspired by my favorite writer on Wattpad, (Mike Turpen) to write a sequel to achieve 1,000 reads! I thank him so much, and credit to him for giving me ideas! Please help me get to 1,000 reads by May 6th, guys! It would mean the world!
~XobsessiveX
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YOU ARE READING
Come and Play
HorrorKella has been having nightmares for weeks on end. They are always the same. A little girl, inviting her to "come and play". One night, the nightmares come to life, and the result is anything but a happy ending.