Love, your stalker

Ten

I started my cold, frozen car at ten o'clock on a Monday. I put my jingling keys in the ignition and the engine rumbled and grunted to life. I gathered Lacey and Harrison Jr. in the car, ready to drop them off to school. I left Ryan with Julie, the family babysitter, who's been babysitting for less than ten years. She was like family to us, so I trusted her.

The weather was unbelievable. Snowflakes drizzled from the sky, showing all their unique features and shapes to everyone. The sky was as grey as the color grey, clouds covering the sky completely. It was a very depressing day. My head screamed for Tylenol and my back yearned for me to sit down and rest, or take the day off. But I knew I couldn't.

I shuddered. I felt like someone was watching me. I imagined a creep sitting in the bushes with binoculars and a lit cigar, huffing and puffing out smoke while stalking me. I shuddered again at the though. I slowly grabbed my suitcase and slipped out of my car, making no sound.

Suddenly I was hit by a car. Or at least I thought I was. I fell face-first on the blacktop, rocks denting my powdered face. I groaned and turn my head to the side so I could see next to me. I saw black dress shoes. Nice ones too. My head pounded like someone is repeatedly smashing my head into the ground. I took my shaky hand and felt the top of my broken head and felt a pool of blood flowing like a river from my cracked skull.

A man climbed on top of me and pinned my arms behind my back like I was being arrested. "What's happening? What's going on?" I sputtered out. Blood splattered out of my mouth and decorating the blacktop. My tooth broke. The mysterious man held my arms into a death-grip refusing to let go anytime soon. He held both of my wrists up toward the sky. If he would push even more, they would both snap like a raw carrot.

"Shh. It's me Anne. I'm here to rescue you. You've made a horrible decision. And I'm here to fix that," I knew it was Kirk.

"No Kirk. I've made my decision. Nothing with make me change that." I'm trying to sweet-talk him, trying not to anger him. Remember: he has the power to break both of my wrists.

That only made him angrier. He took my left wrist and thrust to forward, resulting in a broken wrist. The bone snapped like it was a piece of fragile celery. I screamed so loud I thought I might snap my vocal cords, and he stuffed a sock into my mouth. My wrist was limp and flopping around as if it was jelly.

He grabbed my hair with his ginormous hand and said to me, "you'll regret making that decision." He bashed my head into the blacktop a few times. The rocks that were glued to the blacktop were ripped away from the ground and stuck to my face. Every time he would bash my head again I felt the pool of warm blood hit my face. The head-bashing continued for a few minutes. Finally it ended, but the torture was not over.

He flipped my limp body over and pinned my arms again, but his time to my sides with his strong legs. He took his fist, possibly the size of a grapefruit, and punched my nose, which also resulted in a broken nose as well. He repeatedly punched my face over and over again, sometimes plain slapping it. The pain was indescribable. It felt like someone was stabbing me over and over again in the face.

The last part of the torture was probably the worst, in my opinion. After he released his anger on my beaten, bloodied face, I heard a heart-stopping noise. The sharp, ear-piercing noise of a switchblade showing its ugly face. He took his elbow and placed it gently on the top of my chest; Kirk took the knife and placed the tip of death on my throat and slowly started gliding it across, making a small cut in the middle of my throat. I felt useless and worthless. He literally has my life in his hands right now. I can't do anything to stop him. A small river of blood dribbled from the cut and flowed down my neck and staining my shirt. Then he said eight words I dreaded. "Better watch your back Anne. You might be next."

I heard the promising sound of police sirens in the background. Kirk grunted as he punched my face over twenty times. The smirk on this face was wiped clean off as he heard the sirens. He punched me one more time before taking off and disappearing into the green bushes.
* * *
"Ma'am? Ma'am? Can you hear me? Open your eyes if you can hear me." I heard a motherly voice coo. "Ma'am, I'm Tate. I'm taking you to the hospital now. You were attacked. Do you remember?"

A groan slipped out of my bloody lips. "What? Wh-what happened? Huh?" I was extremely delirious right now. I was all drugged up to block the pain.

"You-you were attacked by someone. Don't you remember?"

"No not really." I actually really don't. I had my head bashed in and I was punched over twenty times.

We arrived at the hospital finally. It smelt....well....like a hospital. The place was taken over by green, full-of-life plants. The walls were paper-white and boring. The floor was checkered with black-white tile like a 40's restaurant. I was rushed to room 218, which was just as boring as all of the hospital decor. About ten doctors and nurses were scurrying around me, their faces blurred by my amazing vision. "This may pinch a little," said a perky nurse named Stacey Copeland. Pretty, educated, intelligent. She stuck a needle in my bulging blue vein in my right arm and thrust the needle into my arm.

The whole room went black.