The Lost Video

SECOND PART

"WHY is it making that noise again? It's not even plugged in!" Owen screamed, while covering his ears and moving towards the television again.

The piercing sound was comparable to the feeling of two, thick and sharpened knives being forced into his eardrums. His stomach turned and his heart pounded as he smashed his fist into the VHS player that sat on the coffee table in front of him.

"We should call the police," Winnie suggested loudly, whining as the noise gradually worsened, and began to fill the room completely.

"No, no," Owen shook his head, swallowing hard as he desperately searched around the room for something else to hit the VHS player with, but to no avail.

He winded back and slammed his crunched fist into the VHS player with all of his might, making his hand throb in pain. Blood dripped down his arm and squished between his fingers, pouring from the open wounds which were sliced across each of his knuckles.

The noise stopped again, and Owen felt incredibly weak. His face paled and sweat was practically cascading out of his every pore as he leaned back against the couch.

Winnie dropped to her knees beside him, taking his torn up hand in hers and staring down at it. Her mouth was agape as her eyes switched from the VHS player to his wounded knuckles.

"Owen, w-what-" she started, but then, the television screen started blinking.

On the screen, the image of a person with a mask over their face flashed repeatedly, zooming closer and closer on the image with every appearance. The mask resembled a crying baby's face, with long eyelashes painted on the bone-chilling disguise.

Owen stared in utter shock at the screen, his eyes widened and his jaw open. 

"We need to leave!" Winnie screamed, standing to her feet and yanking Owen up with her.

Suddenly, the screen changed to an image of a living room. Owen's living room, to be exact. The living room that the both of them were standing in, as if the room was being filmed from the corner of the ceiling. Owen immediately recognized the brown couch, the glass coffee table, the small television, and the staircase behind the beat up sofa.

Owen swallowed hard, his breath thick in his throat as he and Winnie paused to search around the room. They saw themselves in the television, their images facing away from the screen whenever they looked towards it.

"P-please can we just leave," Winnie begged, her fingers gripping Owen's as tightly as possible.

Owen chewed on his lip, moving away from Winnie as he searched around the room.

"Who's here?" Owen called out, his voice deep as he tried to find whoever was doing this to them. "This isn't a funny prank, whoever it is. I'm going to call the police."

Winnie stared at him, still frozen in her spot by the couch.

The television began to static, and Owen couldn't handle his frustration anymore. He walked over to the television and slammed his other fist into the screen continuously, before the screen began to crackle and break. He then went behind the television and unplugged every cord from the wall feverishly, his breath heavy and his chest heaving.

"Fuck!" he screamed out, looking around the room. "Who is here?"

"I'm leaving, Owen!" Winnie cried out angrily. "Let's go!"

"I'm not letting someone stay in my house, Winnie!" Owen screamed back, veins protruding from his neck as anger and fear pumped through his veins. "I'm going to kill whoever's here!"

He continued to search around the room, not noticing the figure standing just in the darkened corner of the room, only several feet away from him. When Winnie noticed the figure, she screamed loudly, her hands flying up to her mouth.

Owen slowly looked at the television screen, which was fully restored as if he didn't just smash it to pieces. His mind grew entirely muddled and his every thought was jumbled, swimming through his head. What was happening? He had never been more confused, and he was finding it difficult to believe that this wasn't a nightmare.

The fully intact television screen displayed the image of somebody walking up to Owen, and Owen cocked his head in confusion before turning to find somebody standing right in front of him.

The person was a woman, clad in a lengthy, beige-coloured dress that fell to the ground beneath her. She wore the baby mask around her face, and her black hair which framed the disguise was styled into tight banana curls, falling to her shoulders. In her hands was a long knife, the base of it resting right against her stomach as her fingers gently tapped along the edge of the silver blade.

Owen's breath caught in his throat, and every movement seemed to be in a stilted, slow-motion manner. He turned to look for Winnie, but she was not where she originally was. He looked around the living room desperately, the extremely dim lighting making it difficult for him to see where she could be.

"What is happening?" Owen asked, not feeling as if his voice was a part of him. It was cracked and ragged, as he stared at the woman in front of him. "How long have you been here? And where is my girlfriend?"

The woman took a step closer, and Owen took a step backwards, his back hitting against a cold wall as he stared at her. His heart leapt to his throat and pulsed, making a full wave of nausea sweep over his body as he tried to figure out how to get out of this situation.

He ran.

He ducked away from the woman and bolted towards the front door, his fingers wrapping around the metal knob and shaking it to try and open it. The door was completely locked, not budging as he pulled and pulled on the knob. He moved to unlock it, but saw that it was already unlocked, but he knew that he didn't have time to mess around with the door.

He bolted upstairs to his bedroom, where he slammed the door shut and flipped the light on, looking around to ensure that nobody was in the room. He locked the door behind him and grabbed his cell phone off of the nightstand beside his bed, dialing '911' with shaking fingers.

He pressed the phone to his ear, moving towards the window just beside his bed as the phone rang. He gritted his teeth together and tried to open the window, engaging almost every muscle in his body, but it was as if the window was glued shut.

Then, outside, where the moonlight was the only source of light across the trees of his backyard, he saw a figure right by the trees, staring up at the window.

His heart dropped.

"Fuck!" he cried out, just as '911' answered.

"Hello, 911, what is your emergency?"

"Hi! Hi, oh, God, please help. I'm- I'm trapped in my house, there's someone in here trying to kill me, and I don't know where my girlfriend is, and-" he babbled, before the operator cut him off.

"Okay, relax, sir. What is your address?"

"97 Adeline Drive," he said through heavy breaths.

"And your name?"

"Owen Kramer," he mumbled through gritted teeth as he pressed the phone between his shoulder and his cheek. He started to move the dresser towards the closed door so nobody could get in.

"All right, Owen, how many people are there?"

"I- I don't know- I only saw one, but, my girlfriend is missing and I saw someone outside-" he grunted as he pushed the dresser towards the wooden door of his bedroom.

The Operator began to say something else, but Owen dropped the phone to the ground.

"Shit," he called out, reaching down to grab his cell phone to press it to his ear.

"One more question, Owen," the Operator stated in a monotonous tone.

"W-what?" Owen groaned in panic, pressing his other ear to the door to see if he could hear anything.

Owen fell frozen in a desperate fear that moved through his core, as he slowly turned towards the window.

This time, a man stood right by his window, dressed in all black clothing with the same crying baby mask as the woman downstairs. His head was cocked to the side, and he also had a long knife in his grip as he stood by the open window, which blew a frigid wind through the room.

"Didn't the tape say 'do not watch'?" the Operator finally asked, the tone of the woman twisting and layering with evil.