A Silhouette and Maybe More

Misconception

I could feel my pulse getting slower and slower beating against his hand that still remained against my throat. I watched him deeply breath the air I desperately needed, like he was rubbing it in my face that he was able to breath and I wasn't.

I could feel myself draw closer to death. I lost control of my muscles, my senses, everything except my thoughts; my thoughts were the only thing that were keeping me alive but under my current situation, it would only last for a short period. After he saw that I was no longer moving he gradually loosened his grip and let my body drop to the cold wooden floor. I didn't know if I was going to pull through, I mean, I'm still thinking aren't I? I thought dead people couldn't think...

Although I seemed unconscious, he was convinced that I was dead. He walked over to the corner he once sat before in the same position. Since I was almost dead and my life was hanging on by the thread my senses were shutting down, my whole body was shutting down, but one thing I was certain of was that sobbing was all I could hear.

"Shit. Shit. Shit what have I done? Not again!" He wept, barely keeping his voice from continuing on as sobs occupied his voice. Within a minute he was completely inconsolable, and I wondered; why would someone that has already killed before and showed no remorse, react completely different the second time? I also noticed how he said 'not again', it was just probably that man I saw him kill, but he didn't seem to react the same way he is just now...so was there someone else? Questions spiralled round my head, too many to count.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" He muttered telling himself off. His breathing was just as shaky as mine used to be when I was being strangled. After two minutes of painfully listening to the mournful abasing I was sure that I was still alive and I still had a pulse...just. I could still feel his tight grip around my neck, like I was a sponge regaining it's shape after being rinsed out. My lungs patiently filled up with oxygen again where I could finally take long, deep and satisfying breaths which was something I was sure I was never going to be able to do again.

The floorboards creaked as he slowly shifted his way to the door and walking down the stairs but made that rookie mistake of leaving the door open. 'Always make sure your victims are dead before leaving them', that's what my police-officer-of-a-father told me after being in a similar situation, he was so desperate for me to join the police force but I was just too delicate and fragile to do his job, so I declined. Obviously as a parent you would want your child to succeed in life, but it's up to the child what way they want to do that. My dad believed it was the police, of course gaining some self-defence skills but they had to be violent sometimes which was something I could barely attempt at being. I wonder how my parents would react if I turned out to be someone like Dan; killing people wherever I went.

But was he intentionally trying to kill me? Or was just angry and lost control?

Regaining my control over my body I lifted myself off the ground and coughed a couple of times forcing them to be quiet which was painfully hard to do. I stared down the upstairs hallway for the first time in a week and limply walked step by step to the banister by the stairs. I knew how loud the stairs were and could be heard a mile away so if Dan was still sobbing for whatever reason then he would definitely hear me. I studied each individual step noticing how the polish had been worn away in the middle but still remained at the sides, because obviously no one is going to walk up the sides of the steps. Cautiously placing my toe on the step, followed by the ball of my foot then the heal gradually applying pressure. Nothing happened. Okay one down, possibly another 10 to go.

A/n: sorry shit chapter, hope you're enjoying the story!