Dollhouse of the dead

Ohne Titel Teil9

I saw the killer come closer, the look in his eyes wavering somewhere between fascination and pure insanity, the knife in his hand glistening in the soft light of the standardlamp right next to him. Dazzled by a flashing reflection of his knive, he lowered it and turned away from me, towards the lamp. His face turned from bothered to slightly amused. With a sick fascination he watched as the knive cut through the thick fabric covering the lamp and calmly turned back to me, a cold-blooded, mischievous frown on his face. He walked towards me, almost carefully putting one foot infront of the other.

,,But why?", I meant it to sound as cold-blooded as the expression on the murderer's face, but my voice broke and the words came out pretty desperate.

He didn't even seem to hear me. I backed away, crashing into the glastable Liz'parents had bought at some fancy art gallery. I fell over it, my back crashing on the ground and my feet getting stuck in the middle of the table. The glas had cut into my skin and blood started running down my ankle. I tried to pull my foot out, but with every move I made, the glas cut deeper into my flesh.

Still, he was coming closer, step by step. He had almost reached me and I could think about nothing else but the fact that I didn't suspect anything. I had been so stupid. Every possible connection lead to this person that was now walking through the pieces of broken glas, breaking them into even smaller ones under the heels of his shoes which were taking him closer and closer to me. I mentally armed myself for a new attempt but just as I was going to pull my foot out of the table, the killers hand was suddenly holding on to my ankle. He yanked my foot out and I screamed in pain.

As the stars slowly faded out of my vision, I dreamily watched my ankle, feeling the blood rush down my foot.A shadow fell over me, tarnishing the bright red. Dazed, I looked up to my murderer and saw the knife race towards me.