Hindsight

Unapt

Her lips parted in a silent whisper. Floating thoughts rummaged through her head as she sprinted out the door. She couldn't scream. Terrified, the protest trapped in her throat. A passel of dread and fear coagulated her blood, making the movements in her veins slothful and wearisome.

He quietly beckoned for her in the dark like a huntsman searching for its prey, "Where are you, sweetheart?"

"Come out, come out wherever you are, sweetheart." his voice stretched out each and every syllable as if he were playing a simple game of hide-and-seek.

She could feel the earth beneath her bare feet as she continued running. She cannot die like this, not today, and definitely not in his hands. She bit her bottom lip so hard that the warm metallic sting of her own blood seeped into her tastebuds. Tears streamed down her face as her entire life flashed right before her eyes. Her mom, her dad, her friends, colleagues, and most of all the love of her life.

Hiding beneath the house she had just escaped out of, she held back sobs to keep herself from making even the slightest of sounds. At hearing the creaking of his weight against the wooden floorboards above, she pressed her hands to her mouth.

He was now right above her.

She huddled her body deeper into the dirt ground, hoping she would be less noticeable that way. The cold Chicago breeze brushed against her wounded skin. Her arms and legs stung as the dirt seeped into the knife cuts he had caused her earlier.

She needed to get out of here alive.

To think that less than ten hours ago, she had just gotten out of a night shift, had drinks with a couple of friends, and was on her way back home. But now, ten hours later, she was here; fighting for her life. Never did she thought that today, out of all the possible days, she would be in survival mode. Trying her best to recall the moments after their goodbyes at the bar, she couldn't, everything after that was a complete blur.

"Sweetheart!" the sick bastard called out. He sounded close, closer than he had been. Footsteps made it's way out of the porch and onto the gravelly path. The rocks crunching under his shoes echoed and she let out a small whimper as more tears stained her face.

She was completely mortified.

About ten minutes ago, she had woken up in a bed that wasn't hers, in a room she didn't recognise, and with a throbbing skull that felt like someone had ran her over.

She had creeped out of the bedroom and tiptoed down the corridor to the living room. There he was, on the couch with his back facing her. All she had to do now was not to get caught but with her luck, she knew it was impossible.

The high pitch creak of a loose floorboard sent her dashing for the front door. She knew it. But he was quicker and lunged at her, crashing his weight on top of her.

"Where do you think you're going?" he smiled, a sinister smile.

To her complete unknowing, he had a knife in his left hand and immediately sank the blade into her thigh. She screamed as the pain shot through her entire body but it was cut short when his other hand began squeezing her throat.

Gasping for air, her arms flailed wildly, scratching and clawing at his grip, but to no avail. In her final attempt to not slip into unconsciousness, she grab hold of the knife that was in her thigh, braced herself for the indescribable pain, yanked it out and plunged it into his shoulder. All in one swift motion.

"You stupid bitch!" he seethed.  When she felt his grip loosen around her neck, she smashed her elbow into his face, twice, stunning him, before punching him hard, smashing his nose, sending blood pouring down his face.