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Chapter Two:
I couldn't feel my toes as my feet dug further into the, blinding white, snow. The icy wind tortured my senses as it nipped at my cheeks. My hands were beginning to suffer the attack of the frost for my gloves were worn from years of wearing them. They were doing nothing to protect me from the cold.
I sighed and watched the tiny silvery grey wisp travel upwards into the air. Heading for the clouds but not quite making it as it dissolved into nothing.
The wisp was like a symbol of my life. Reaching upwards but never making it. Story of my life, basically.
I had to get home. I had to see whether I'd received more of those...chilling letters. I shuddered at the reminder of Barry Lenham and his desperate pleas. How he begged the police officer to listen but they didn't and he was dead because of them.
I remember the look of fear plastered in his steel grey eyes as he told me "It might be you next." At the time I had dismissed it, forgot about it and carried on with my life. Until the first letter came. It was then I knew my fate was heading in the same direction as Barry's.
Did they really expect me to relocate? Why would they threaten me to do such a thing? How would it effect them?
I didn't want to think of the other letters which had followed after. Each letter more chilling than the last.
The letters came every day as they had been for the past week and three days. They arrived at different times. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes afternoon and occasionally night. I wasn't sure how long they would let the letters carry on. I wanted to investigate but I didn't know where to start and would investigating seal my death?
So I allowed the letters to arrive-even though I didn't have much of an option-I would read them and lock them away to be used as evidence.
I trudged through the snow and sighed with relief as I neared my flat. Kicking the snow off my boots, I climbed the endless stairs to my home. The lift, of course, was out of order forcing me to take the stairs.
As I neared my door, my breath became ragged as the panic kicked in. I struggled to unlock my door with my keys as my hands were shaking, I dropped the keys and they fell to the ground with a clash. I pressed my head against the cool exterior of my door, breathing in and out, collecting my nerves.
I was stronger than this, ink on paper would not bring me down as easily. I picked my keys from the ground and shoved it in the lock, pushing the door open before I could change my mind.
Nothing. Zilch. Nada. Zero.
No letter.
I sprinted into my flat, bolting the door behind me and stood there gazing at the pigsty of a lounge and kitchen. Things had certainly went to the dogs since the letters had arrived.
I collapsed onto the sofa after switching the TV on. I needed distraction. Noise blared from the TV, screeching, whining as the picture went into static mode. The television hissed in frustration as it fought with the static. Just my luck. I fumbled around for the remote control and stabbed at the off button.
The silence was deafening.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The clock called.
The pipes creaked gently, whirring softly, as the house cooled. I shivered even though I was still wearing my jacket.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The clock yelled.
The fridge whirred to life, the electricity hummed quietly, my stomach groaned in a reminder.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The clock screamed.
"Shut up!" I roared at the clock before my azure eyes widened as I realised I had just yelled at a clock. The clock isn't alive. The clock can't hear my voice. Why was I shouting at a clock?
I shook my head, my brown locks coming loose from my bun. "Starlet. Pull yourself together." I whispered as I shrugged my jacket off my shoulders.
"Don't be stupid." I whispered again not caring about how talking to yourself was the first sign of madness. I didn't care. To hear the sound of my own voice was somewhat comforting in the eery silence.
The darkness was beginning to engulf the little light remaining in the room. The light from the fridge door illuminating around the tiny area I was standing in.
I glanced at the remains of the food inside my fridge. A packet of ham which was well past its sell by date, half a cucumber and a block of cheese. The cupboards weren't much better either with only a couple of packets of rice and bread.
Cheese sandwich it was then or nothing.
I decided to have nothing even though my stomach growled in protest.
"Keep rumbling you're not getting anything." I said. My stomach rumbled again as if replying.
"Whatever." I answered, boiling the kettle, the water starting to bubble away.
Spooning the last of my coffee into a tea-stained cup which was chipped and hanging on by its last legs, I poured the water into my cup, carrying my coffee over to the couch. As I sipped the horrible, cheap brand, coffee my brain was working overtime.
As I plotted and tried to solve the mystery of the letters, it wasn't long before I drifted off from exhaustion.
I awoke to the sound of paper falling to the ground. My eyes widened, I was alert as my eyes darted to the clock. Midnight. The letter had arrived at midnight.
I ran to the door and, sure enough, there lay the offending item. The blood red letters on the envelope glared at me as I slowly lifted it from the ground.
Starlet. My name on the envelope raged loud and clear. My fingers were shaking as I broke the seal.
WE HAVE WARNED YOU.
FAILURE TO COMPLETE OUR DEMAND WILL RESULT IN YOUR AGONY! TIME IS RUNNING OUT.
TICK. TOCK. TICK. TOCK.
It ended there. The promise of what could come lingered in the air, the fresh scent of fear made an entrance once more.
I stood, frozen, reading the message over and over again when the doorbell rang. My heart stopped.
Who was there?
Who would be calling at my flat at this time of night?
The doorbell rang again.
My heart was racing, my blood chilled and I didn't know what to do.
Then it was silent and the letterbox clattered as something was shoved through. The silhouette of a figure disappeared as the paper fell to the ground.
I waited before retrieving it.
It was a picture of me.
How did they have a picture of me?
But it was the message written on the picture which chilled me to the core for it was written in...blood.
Fresh blood.
Which brought to question, who's blood had been used to write "Tick. Tock."
Who's blood?
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