What do you want with me?

The Girl

He didn't even resist the security guard he just let them drag him out. He glanced back at the terrified nurse, collapsed on the floor, having a panic attack. For a second, just a split second, he enjoyed seeing her in pain. It amused him. The panic of the victim. The fear. That joy quickly past as the ache of guilt churned in his stomach. The whole scenario flashed through his mind, the cries, the begs of the nurse. The sickening smile on his face as the nurse cowered in terror as he snapped the chair. The dripping of blood. *You sick son of a bitch* he thought to himself.

After being chucked out of the building Mr Collins ached over his act of rage. The guilt was becoming unbearable. There it was again. The urge to just end it all.

The glassy shimmer of light smothered the rooftops with a honey-like trickle of sunshine as dawn approached. Flashes of orange and pinks and the addicting freshness of the air. It almost made him feel calm. The gushing throb of guilt slushing around his heart, slowed to a slight meander. Filling his lungs with the crisp air. He stood there, in the middle off the road observing the peace. Swimming in it. Living it. Loving it.

Peace never lasts. Marc, Mr Collins, was about to witness this theory.

"HELP!" Cries of a young girl echoed in his ear.

"Hello?" Marc proceeded cautiously toward the screeches. Crunching, the gravel beneath his size 9 feet screamed as they were being trodden on. * I wouldn't go near her, you might attack her like you almost did with the nurse. There's no one out here to stop you.*

"Oh just SHUT UP!" Marc bellowed out. He looked around as if he had just snapped out a daydream.

"HELP ME PLEASE!" He could see her now, covered in blood running toward him, or away from something. As she approached him, he could see she was drenched in blood. Her t-shirt stained with dirt and her tangled and bushy hair like a wild jungle out of control. She was running directly at him now, taking no notice that he was even there. "IS ANYBODY HERE? PLEASE I NEED HELP!" She cried out once more, not even witnessing the fact that he was there. She kept on running until they were face to face. Marc stared right into her captivating azure eyes. Right into her trapped, mournful soul. A glistening tear running down her cheek. Her pasty face, suffocated in black mascara and grime. For a moment Marc's world slowed down as he looked into her panicked face, his mind flowed with all the things she had been subjected to.

Darkness. Burning. Screaming. Crying. Fear.

Aggressive, teasing voices. "Who are you? LET ME GO!" Sobbing.

"Aaaw. Poor thing. Do you think we should let her go." *sarcasm*

Another aggressive voice announced, "Hmmm. Let me think... How about NO! Repulsive laughter's echoed through the damp air. Unspeakable things were done to the poor girl.

*Those sick bastards.* Marc snapped back to life and everything came clashing back to it's normal pace. he looked up to find an empty road. Leaves trickling past. The nippy breeze snuck down his neck. The hairs on his arms standing up. He gazed into the barren road in shock. Disbelief. Confused and slightly wary.

Marc had decided that whoever, whatever, he saw it was just a hallucination. A figment of his imagination. He was back in his dank, bleak apartment. Silence slithered and crept through the apartment, except for the bothersome ticking of the clock. Each tick a reminder of the dripping blood thundering onto the floor earlier today in the hospital. Sat on his single bed, thinking, replaying all the events that had happened earlier that day. He jumped, as he was awoken from his daze, by the continuous ringing of the telephone. Glaring at the phone he argued with himself whether or not to answer or just to let it ring. He decided to answer it considering the ringing was driving him berserk.

"Hello?"

"Aaah, Mr Collins I'm glad your home. I just wanted to clarify that you remember the meeting tomorrow!"

*Crap.* "Yes what time should I arrive?"

"It would be great if you can come at 10 am. I would do it later but we are booked after that. I hope this time is subtitle for you."

*Uughh that cheery voice, stupid bitch. Wait 10? For Christ sake that's when I go and see the waitress.*

*Just don't go, say you feel ill.*

*No go this is beneficial for you. It WILL make you better.*

"Ummm." He considered his options. "Yes I can make that time." Turns out Mark would rather be cured than miss one meeting with his crush.

"Great!" *There it is again that stupid voice patronizing me*. "I shall see you tomorrow then bye."

*Thank God she's gone.* The brown paint on the walls created a grim atmosphere, with a tiny window that leaked in very little light. He liked it that way. He smacked the little box, that's a poor excuse for a tv, and watched the pixilated screen as the program was interfered by the lost signal. *Damn piece of shit*. He lay down, the intoxicating stench of shame lingered in the air. His eyes focused on a stain on the ceiling, every time he looked at it, it grew in size ever so slightly. His mind flipped from attacking the nurse to seeing the troubled girl. She looked rather young. Around 21 years of age. He wondered what happened to her, what other terrorising things had she encountered, where was she now? Was she even real? He wasn't sure what was real or fake anymore. Everything morphed into one. The unsureity of what was real or fake was what scared him the most. The fact that everything and anything he knew could potentially all be a hallucination. This thought is the thing that kept him up at night, even when he wasn't thinking about it, it was still there, haunting him, terrorising him.

End of chapter.