Someone's In My Head (WATTYS AWARD WINNER 2015)

Sneak Peak (Sequel to SIMH)

The rain was pouring heavily when the Secretary-General's black limousine pulled into the gravel driveway. The blinding headlights of the sleek, posh automobile shone onto the vast porch, illuminating it completely.

There was a slam of the car door. A middle-aged man, donned in a dark, ragged suit, stumbled out of the car, heading for the front door. His breaths came in broken, inconsistent huffs as he trudged ahead with a slight wobble in his gait. Within seconds, the relentless, unforgiving rain had drenched him from head to toe.

Diving under the shelter of the wraparound porch, he took a moment to catch his breath. He fumbled through his pockets, but what he found was only some crumpled-up pieces of paper. The key to the main door was nowhere to be found.

Cursing under his breath, he slinked towards the door and raised his fist tentatively.

Knock. Knock, knock.

About ten seconds later, the door swung open. Standing in the doorway, was a woman dressed in a black satin dress.

"Ben!" She gasped, her hands flying to his wet, matted hair. "Oh my-what happened?"

Benjamin Leif opened his mouth to speak, but what came out was a strangled, hoarse croak. He cleared his throat.

"Nothing, Doreen...I just had a little too much to drink." He groaned.

Doreen stared at her husband in confusion, but the confusion quickly turned into sympathy when she saw the droplets of rain that was dripping down Benjamin's wet fringe.

"Here, take this." She wrapped a piece of warm towel around him. "I'll make some hot chocolate for you."

Muttering an almost inaudible "thank you", Benjamin took off his soaked suit and began drying himself. Doreen, on the other hand, gave her husband one last look-a look that was filled with worry and doubt-before disappearing into the kitchen.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, accompanying the bright flashes of lightning that sliced through the window panes and lit up the dark living room. Benjamin was about to take off his damp, filthy socks, when all of a sudden, a high-pitched shriek rang out from the kitchen.

"AHHHH!"

As he made a dash for the kitchen, Benjamin whipped out the gun that he had been hiding in his slacks. When he was about to reach the kitchen, he dropped instinctively into a slight crouch and peeked cautiously from behind the wooden panel that separated the kitchen from the living room.

The door to the left of the kitchen was wide open, and the wind was howling like tortured animal as it barged through the doorway, bringing the rain with it.

But that wasn't the source of the scream.

Standing there, right beside the kitchen counter, was a hulking figure, whose face was concealed by a black balaclava. The figure had its hands wrapped around Doreen's neck, paying complete disregard to her vicious thrashes.

The scene that befell his eyes must have baffled Benjamin, for his arms went slack and his jaw was left hanging precariously from its socket. However, instead of breaking out of his brief moment of shock and making a move to save his wife, Benjamin's arm trembled, and he lowered his gun slowly.

"NO!" Doreen, clearly aghast at her husband's lack of reaction, choked as she felt her assailant's arms crushing her windpipe. "BEN! HELP-"

In a quivering voice, Benjamin hissed. "What is this?"

As an answer, the masked figure held up a gun and shoved it at Doreen's temple. The terrified woman let out a broken sob as she felt the coldness of the barrel kiss her skin.

"STOP!" Benjamin shouted. Even as the chilling wind was billowing across the kitchen, there was still droplets of sweat trickling down Benjamin's forehead.

Finally, the figure spoke in a deep alto voice that sounded...feminine. "Do you love your wife, Ben?"

Benjamin did not answer. Instead, he began to perspire furiously, his face turning into a deep shade of red.

Getting no response from Benjamin, the attacker sneered. "If you think this is a game or an illusion, let me assure you that it is not, for in a short while, your wife will be lying in a pool of her own blood, right here in the kitchen counter, with her brains blown out of her."

Benjamin winced and shut his eyes, his breaths morphing into something so rapid and intense that it didn't sound human.

Sensing Benjamin's hesitation, the female assassin began to cackle; a sharp, piercing noise that sent chills down the backs of whoever who heard it. "Here's the deal: I'm gonna count to five, and if you don't stop me before then, I'll plant a bullet in this lady's head."

Upon hearing the words, Benjamin shuddered, but made no move. Even his eyes maintained shut tight.

"One."

Benjamin began to mutter something unintelligible under his breath.

"Two."

His hands flew up to his head, clutching at it desperately, the nails digging so deep into the skin that it drew blood.

"Three."

An inhuman growl escaped Benjamin's lips. The blood that seeped through his fingers mixed with the sweat on his sideburn and started trickling down his neck.

"Four."

With a loud roar, Benjamin's hands flew down to his side as his eyes snapped wide open.

"Five."

"BAM!"