A Deadly Game Of Tag [#Wattys2017]

Prologue

The young girl ran through the forest terrified.

I've got to get to safety the girl thought to herself. She was terribly out of breath but she didn't have time to stop. She needed to distance herself from him.

The wound above her eyebrow was bleeding and blood trickled down her face.

"Shit!" the girl hissed as the blood dripped onto her right eye. With no time to stop she pressed on.

She needed to get to the creek. Down by the creek is a cabin. Supposedly it was occupied by a sheriff and he could help her: only if she got to him before he did.

Her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. Just a little further, she urged herself. Her body was screaming along with her lungs, pleading, protesting for rest. Come on! She yelled in her mind. Just a little-

The girl, not focusing on where she was running, slammed into a tree and tripped over a log. She tumbled down the hill, screaming.

When she reached the bottom, she landed face first into something wet. Mud? The girl thought after she gained her composure. She reached up and touched her face and looked at her hand. No! Her mind screamed. Her hand was stained with red. Oh God! Frightened, she looked around on the ground. Maybe there's a dead animal near by. She thought hopefully. Then she saw it: something protruding from underneath the leaves.

Cautiously, she crawled over to the spot with the raised mound. Taking a deep breath, she uncovered the item and screamed.

It was a severed hand! A girl's hand be exact. Her fingernails were painted baby blue.

"Oh God!" She yelled. "Who's hand is this!" She cried as she scrambled away from it.

A snap sounded behind her. Startled, she jumped up and took off running. Luckily for her she saw the creek followed by the sight of the cabin. "Thank God!" She breathed as she reached the cabin.

She turned the handle and threw open the door. Quickly, she locked the door and leaned up against it to catch her breath. That should keep him out for a bit.

"Hello?!" She yelled, looking around the room. "Sheriff Richter?"

"Yes?" called a voice from the other room. She sighed in relief, although she's heard that voice before. She slowly walked into the room in which it smelt strongly of cinnamon.

"Sir! Please help me." she cautiously looked around the room for anything out of the ordinary.

"What's wrong dear?" The sheriff sat with his back against the young girl.

"Sir!" The girl ran to the sheriff.
"There's this pyscho-" she stopped in mid-sentence and screamed. The sheriff's throat had been slit and his eyes were gouged out.

"What's wrong, Dear?" She felt a warm breath on her neck. All too familiar. The girl's breath caught in her throat.

Get out of there! No! Pull out the gun and kill that bastard! Her mind screamed. Just before she had time to reach for her holster, she was stopped.

A rough hand covered her mouth, catching her scream.

"Tag," he whispered as he drew the knife from behind his back. In one swift movement, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back and looked into her wild eyes. She knew she had just lost the game. Smiling, he raised the knife he slit her throat. "You're it." He smirked. With that, he let her body fall to the ground. "Game over."