Murdered In My Home

I still remember that day. I remember it like it was yesterday. The day I was murdered in my home. I remember every detail of it. The day that was supposed to be the best day of my life. I remember how that day ended in an endless wave of torment. I remember it all. The memory of it haunts me still. The traumatic events that took place that day. It was an early afternoon around 12:30 maybe and I was getting ready to for a day out with my girlfriends. Yes it was my birthday. I was turning 21. I was so excited. So anyway I was getting ready for my special day until I suddenly hear a knock at my front door, I ignored it at first because I wanted to finish putting my make up on but whoever was at the door kept on knocking and knocking. It got to the point where I finally had enough, so I went down the stairs to my front door and opened it ready to scold or express my annoyance to this person but before I could say anything this mysterious person suddenly covers my face with a white cloth with a strange wet and smelly substance on it and the next thing I know it I was out cold. When I woke up I was in what felt like to be a wooden chair, my hands and feet were tied up so I couldn't run away or fight back and I had tape over my mouth so I couldn't scream for help or speak and I had another piece of tape over my eyes so all I could see was blackness. I struggled to try and break the ropes binding my hands and feet until I suddenly hear footsteps coming towards me. My fear grew as they started to get closer and then the tape over my eyes was ripped off tearing a couple of my eye lashes off with it, and in front of me was a man that looked to be in his late 30's with a knife in his hand and he was wearing a creepy looking mask over his face. My eyes widened and I started to cry out of fear and dread and I once again started to struggle desperately trying to break the ropes but to no avail. Then the man gets closer to me and crouches then grabs my leg and starts cutting in to my skin making deep gashes in my leg. I screamed out of agony as he was cutting me. The pain was unbearable but unfortunately he didn't stop there. After he stopped cutting my leg he moved on to my other leg and did the exact same thing to that one. But the torture didn't end there he did so many other horrible stuff to me. He beat me with a hammer, stabbed me multiple times, drilled holes through my limbs, he kept torturing me until I had officially taken my last breath. It's been 40 years since all that happened. My body is long dead but my soul still lives on inside the house that used to be my home. That day I was murdered. Murdered in my home by some lowlife psychopath. My life was taken from me on the day of my 21st birthday. To this day I keep roaming in this prison asking myself the same questions over and over like "Will I ever get out?" "Will I ever find peace?" "Will my killer ever be apprehended?" There's a chance I might never find the answers but I still hope and wait for someone to help me rest in peace.