~ Tuesday evening, a couple of streets away from school
Was this shit some kind of game to him?! Yet again Frank was chasing me, hunting me down like an animal, because... That's what I am right? I'm the prey, and he's the predator. I ran down a street, took a turn left and saw that the road ended. It was a dead end. Frank finally caught up with me and laughed hysterically. "Well, well, well... What do we have here? A little butterfly caught in a big spider's web huh? Listen up kid, I'll teach you some manners!" He slowly started walking towards me and looked at me with that filthy grin of his. He was enjoying this, oh he was, enjoying the fact that he had me cornered with nowhere to go, nobody to turn to, nobody to help me. Not that anyone ever would though...He stopped right in front of me. He was standing so close to me I could smell his bad breath, that alone nearly knocked me unconscious, though the knocking still had to come. Suddenly, he drew a knife and I started to shake. "When a butterfly is caught in a web, you can only get it loose by cutting it free, but you have to be really careful, you could accidently cut off a wing or two... " he said. I panicked, what did I have to do? What coúld I do? He started to wave the knife in front of my eyes and I kicked him as hard as I could in a reflex. I grabbed the knife from his hand and I stabbed... I stabbed him again, two times, three times, again and again... He collapsed and I screamed. I started to tremble, the knife slipped out of my hand and fell to the ground with a cling. On that moment, something inside me snapped. I killed him... I looked at my hands, they were as red as a ruby. My eyes started to jump between my hands, his body and the corner of the street. I started running, I hid my hands in the pockets of my jacket and ran as fast as my legs could carry me.
I slammed the door behind me, still panicking and trembling like a timid deer. What just happened? Why did I... Why did I kill him? I went upstairs and started to wash my blood covered hands. My thoughts raced and trembled while I saw the stream of blood mixed with water glide down the sink. His blood. I did it. I killed him. I couldn't stop myself from thinking those words over and over. I went back to my room and opened a drawer, inside there was a beautiful silver coated dagger. The handle was shaped like an eagle head, the blade was silver coated and decorated with various gemstones. I took it out and sat down on my bed, handling it with the same care as a parent would hold their new born baby. Frankly speaking this dagger was my only friend, it comforted me when I was sad, it gave me a feeling of courage, like I could easily stand up for myself. Every time I was holding it I felt like I could oppose the whole world. I found it in the attic when I was younger, it was just lying there, in a wooden casket, waiting for someone to discover and acknowledge its existence. My dad was a businessman, he travelled a lot for his work, he was never home, but on the rare occasions that he did come home he always brought a souvenir from the distant country he had been to this time. He told me that he had once brought the dagger with him from England, and that he bought it from an antiques dealer who claimed it was a 17th century dagger. My mom was never fond of knives though, so he stowed it away in the attic, until I found it a few years later. It always fascinated me, and that never changed. I lay down on my bed and felt tears coming up. Why did it have to turn out like this? I slowly closed my eyes, only to open them again because of the loud banging on the door. "Stupid Frank" I mumbled. I suddenly realised what happened a few hours earlier, and I blinked. -" FEDERAL POLICE, OPEN UP!" Shit, this wasn't good. I took the dagger, my wallet and a new jacket and rushed downstairs. The banging continued and I ran to the backdoor. I slipped past it as silent as I could and took a run for it. I had no idea where to go, but I knew I could never stay or return, that much was certain.