Sweet, Sweet Death (Horror One Shots)

Through The Mirror

The smell of Chinese takeout food wafts up into my nose as the delivery man hands me the bag. I take in his face quickly. A full, bushy beard, large, beady blue eyes, and wrinkles etched into his face that suggests his life has consisted of more than delivering Chinese food.

"Thank you," I mumble, handing him a wad of cash that should pay for the food and give him a hardy tip.

"No. Thank you," he answers examining and counting his money. I smile, and close the polished oak door, and lock it seconds after. It's just paranoia, but I am not taking any chances after what happened a few days ago. That man looked nothing like the man I encountered, but for all I know the man I crossed could be sitting in the car just waiting to plunge a knife directly into my heart.

I sigh and run a hand through my short, buzzed brown hair. This is ridiculous. I am not going to get killed; the man who threatened me was just bluffing when he did it.

The warmth of the food in my hands seeps into my skin and disrupts my thoughts. I pad through the front hallway, and walk into my kitchen, where I grab a fork, and dig into my sweet and sour chicken.

I am in mid-bite when I hear the turning of a lock. It can't be. That's not possible. This is not happening. My house is not being broken into.

Adrenaline courses through my body, beads of sweat form on my palms, and I swallow hard.

I need my gun.

I sprint back through the hallway and up the stairs, taking two at a time. If the motive of this burglar is to steal something, which is most likely, then this person won't be happy to see me.

When I reach the door to my room, I fling it open, and run to the corner. My tall, polished white cabinet stands flush with the wall- or so it appears. Wedged in between that, and the wall, lies my pistol.

With the adrenaline that courses through my body, I shove the dresser out of the way with ease. I smile as I drop down to the floor, and curl my hand around my pistol. It feels good, and familiar to have it in my hand. It reminds me of a past I'm not proud of, but still secretly cherish.

The crash from downstairs pulls me out of my trance and back into reality. For some stupid reason, I begin to feel courageous- courageous enough to scream out at least.

"You know, robbing a house when the owner is home isn't the smartest thing you could do."

What I said brings a loud, booming laughter from the downstairs; it almost sounds like the laughter of a being who has officially gone crazy.

"I'm not robbing your house. I'm looking for you." I nearly jump out of my skin because the words come from behind me. Before I can even turn around to see who the person is, or how they got to me, I feel the warm, heavy breathing of a human being on my neck.

"What do you want from me?" I ask, feeling uncomfortable at the closeness.

"Your life."

I turn around and fire my gun, but the person is gone. A piece of the the wall comes flying off from the bullet, but no harm was done.

"What the hell?" I mutter.

"Looking for me?" a man's voice whispers from behind me again. I turn around, but halfway through my spin, a fist connects with my jaw.

I recoil in pain when I feel the arm wrap around my waist and pull me towards the bathroom.

"Get off of me," I grunt, slamming my fist into the man's face. He doesn't even flinch.

"Let me show you what death feels like," he says, slamming my head into the counter in my bathroom. Pain shoots through my body, and blood seeps out of my head.

I groan in pain, but the man is already on top of me.

A scream flies out of my mouth as I feel a cold blade cutting into my abdomen. 

"What are you doing?" I ask, but he just presses the knife deeper into my flesh. I scream in pain and struggle against the man, but he is far stronger than me. I look up and see the man who threatened me in the parking lot.

"You are actually going through with your plan?" It thouroughly surprises me, and it takes my mind off the pain that I feel.

"Of course." He presses the blade even deeper, causing warm blood to spill out onto my skin. 

"Now lets get back to showing you the feeling of death." I scream in pain as the blade goes in further, and shift my gaze to the left of him, to the mirror. The mirror only makes things worse; it shows this whole scene for me to watch.

It's my worst nightmare; a man is killing me, and I am not fighting back, and I am viewing it all.

As my screams fill the night, I get pushed closer to the edge of life.

The last thing I see is through the mirror. I watch my intestines get cut out, and a long knife stab into my heart.

A/N:

Well... I hope that was scary and gruesome. This is the second horror one shot of my collection. Enjoy.