Texting Sam Wilkinson

motive

Lyra's POV:
As i was in the middle of putting on my mascara, I heard the knock on the door. He's here. How many times can i say the word "fuck" without overusing it's meaning? Never? Okay. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

I walked down the stairs, stopping halfway to fix my appearance in any way i could. I continued walking and eventually made my way to the front door.

Opening the door, I saw something i thought i never would see. Immediately i started panicking and backed away from the door. this isn't Sam. I ran around the kitchen island and grabbed the sharpest knife i could find from the knife stack. I wasn't thinking correctly, i was just panicking. I should've ran up the stairs, and locked myself in my room, and called 911. That's what i should've done.

I backed as far away as i could, until i hit the sink. "W-Who are you? What do you want?" I said, my voice lower than usual from panic. They didn't answer. "Answer me!" I exclaimed. The person only kept coming forward, i couldn't see who it was, they were covered in black from head to toe.

Then i heard a chuckle. This bitch thinks now is a time to laugh.

I stretched the knife as far as i could, it shaking as i did so. "HE-" Before i could scream for help, he covered my mouth with his hand aggressively. I would for sure get a bruise in the morning. That was the least of my problems though. "Don't fucking make a sound, or i swear to god i will shove this knife so far in your stomach, you won't last a second!" He spat.

I kept on trying to squirm in his grasp, so alarmed by his words that i didn't even take into account that he might actually do it.

At this point, i was balling my eyes out. He took his hand not in use and snatched the knife out of my hand, so hard it made my hand tear. He took the knife and placed it under my chin, against my neck, holding it wicked still. If i were to move my head down one inch, i'd be done for it.

I tilted my head up as far as i could, hoping for something to come to my mind to figure out a way to get this man off me. I could tell it was a man at this point, from the voice.

I sneakily placed my hands behind me in a slow matter, so he wouldn't notice. Looking for anything i could use to defend myself in this situation, i found a carrot. A fucking carrot.

Coming up with all the possible ways to hurt this man long enough for me to escape out of his grasp, I decided to go with this.

I whipped my hand around and started hitting him with the carrot. Might i tell you, this was a thick, stiff carrot.

It must've done a small amount of pain because he let go of me long enough for me to duck under his arm and shoot for the doors. I ran, and i ran. Coming out the front door that i stupidly left open for him to chase me from, i continued to run. Where the fuck was Sammy.

Before my mind answered my own question, the man forcefully pulled on my leg and tripped me, bad enough for me to fall. Which is not what i needed right now.

Immediately turning around and backing up with my hands and feet on the gravel, worry struck me. What if he did something to Sam?

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Lol, bigass plot twist. Bet you didn't see this coming ;)