I slam the door and start running to the kitchen, snatching the phone off the receiver.
I dial Mark's cell number, punching each number harder than I ever have before.
"Hello?" Mark's voice questions.
"Mark! Something's REALLY wrong! I need you back here right now. Tell your mom you're spending the night at Josh's house. I need you," I practically scream into the phone.
"Rosie? Calm down. It's alright. I'm not sure I can just come back over.. My mom's-"
"For whatever reason your mom doesn't trust you with me at this time of night is not important right now! I really need you to come back! Listen, I'm going to call the police once I hang up with you. Be here in 10 okay?
"Woah, Rosie. You need the police? I'm not sure I need to be there if you need other help. It's dangerous."
"I'm in danger right now, Mark! I need you right now for my own safety! What kind of boyfriend are you to be concerned for yourself right now?"
"What kind of girlfriend are you to ask me to put myself in danger to keep you safe?"
"This is unbelievable. Do you care about me or not?" I ask.
"I do, Babe. But-"
"No buts. If you care about me, be here in 10 minutes," I spit out at him before hanging up.
I jam 9-1-1 into the phone and wait for it to stop ringing...
"911, what's your emergency."
The operator is a female. Her voice is calm but sturdy. She talks in a reassuring way that tells me she's there to help me and that she means business.
"I think there's an intruder in my house," my voice is loud and unsteady.
"Okay, calm down. We are sending forces to help you. Where do you live?"
"Niagra Forest 382, Beautford, North Carolina."
"Are you hurt?"
"No"
"Okay. I'm going to need you to stay on the phone. Don't hang-"
Her voice started breaking up. A crackling and scratchy noise that sounds like a snip sounds right before the line goes dead and I hear the familiar buzz of the receiver in my ear.
I set the phone down, searching the room. Someone just cut my line. But why after I tell the operator my address? Why not before?
The room gets eerily cold, the bitter air seeping through my thick fur pajamas.
The t.v. flashes on, displaying Lisa's dead body once again before switching to static. Through the crackling sound, pieces of different voices from different shows and movies form sentences.
"No..Help..For..Prisoner," the different voices put together.
I stare in horror. This is NOT an intruder. I'm not sure what's going on but I'm thoroughly freaked out.
The screen is producing nonsensical sounds and words while I stand there in complete and utter shock.
"Whoever this is, stop pranking me! It's not funny anymore. I don't care who you are just get out!"
"Get..out..of..my..home..This..my..house..." I barely manage to understand the confusing words. How can someone manipulate a television to do this anyway? Are they mocking me?
"What do you want?!" I scream at the t.v.
"You..To..Die..."
The television goes black once again with a quick snap of electricity followed by smoke arising from the small screen.
YOU ARE READING
The Blood On My Hands
Horror"'I believe you when you say you didn't mean to. And I believe you when you say you're sorry. But I can't forgive you.'"
