Never-Never Land

Chapter Two

August 28, 2020

I just about threw myself off the bench, when I heard him speak. I can see most of his face now that it wasn't swallowed up by the shadows. I could see the top part of his face: his forehead covered by some of his hair, the shape of his eyes, and the narrow bridge of his nose. He raises his hand and taps on the window with his knuckles, and it brings my attention back to what he has cupped in it. In his hand were tiny pebbles that surrounded the garden where the dying flowers that I had been neglecting for weeks laid. Soon enough I came to the conclusion that the pitter patter at the window earlier that I had mistaken for rain, was actually the sound of pebbles being thrown at it by him. He opens up his hand wider and lets the pebbles fall through his fingertips and tilts his hand to drop them quicker.

"Now, sweets. You and both know that the lock on that window isn't working. You and I both know that, that pesky extra lock from above is also missing. I wonder where it went, do you know?" His tone of voice could have been playful if it weren't for the fact that it was 4 in the morning and if he wasn't basically hanging onto the side of her house.

"Who are you? What do you want?" I ask. Even though I know how idiotic the questions were. She had seen countless horror films to know that the smart thing would be to run first, ask questions later. But she was frozen in place and doomed to ask stupid questions that will end up getting stupid answers.

Slowly, he raises his hands to the top of his head, and pushes the hood back. I was surprised to find that he was not some kind of hideous monster, but a normal enough looking man, again if he wasn't basically hanging off the side of my house, that seemed to be in his mid-twenties. Blonde hair hangs just under his jawline, it looked stringy, as if it hadn't been washed in weeks. He honestly looked like that vampire guy from Twilight. Yup. That's it. He also has that kind of creepy vibe, which, hello, again he's hanging off my house. Moving down his face, his eyes were hazel, average. Narrow nose, eh, normal enough. His lips were neither full or thin, just like Goldilocks' favorite bed, average.

"I could be either a person that takes you away from this hell I know you're living and taking you somewhere better or the person that's taking you from this hell and taking you somewhere else. And before you say anything, yes, these two options are completely different." He rambles on and on. "What do you think I mean when I say better? A better hell? Maybe. What about when I say somewhere else? Heaven? That also could be a possibility. Let me ask you something though, what do you want to be when you grow up?" With that question he finishes with a grand smile, almost as large as the Chesire cat from Wonderland.

Should I answer him? What if it distracts him long enough for him to forget about the windows so I can get my phone and run somewhere else.

"Well, since you don't want to have a conversation," he draws out, "why don't leave story time for later? By the way, why haven't called for your mother? Because sure she might beat you, basically black and blue, but she could be helpful in this situation?" He tilts his head to the right, his hair shifting and catching the little light that comes from the street lamp.

"I-I-I don't know, really." I stutter out. Taking one hand off the window, I went to push back some of my hair that had gotten out of the low ponytail I had. By the time I realized my mistake I was already on the floor, and the pain finally being felt after a few seconds.

He had taken the chance to push the windows open, climb in, and close them back in. Just as I'm about to scream for my mother, he steps on my ankle. He snickers and then becomes full out laughing, stepping harder on my ankle.

"That was a trick question, I knew she wouldn't have come either way. Ha ha ha. Go ahead, call for her, I'll wait."

When I don't even try, he lifts up his foot and stomps on my ankle. Which makes me shout out loud enough to wake up the neighbors.

"Ha! See I told you!" He yells while pointing his finger at me. Reminding me of a child that just had his point proven correct. "Let me tell you a secret," he crouches low and gets closer to my ear, he lifts a few loose strands of hair and whispers his confession, "I've killed your mother, already." He giggles.

I stop breathing and my thoughts go into overdrive. If he killed my mother, then that means he was already in the house. Why did he go through the struggle of the window situation? Did he do this just to play with me? What kind of person is he that he ignores the easy and quick way and goes for the difficult and longer way? Is he crazy? Even I know that if you're trying to commit a crime, it's best to be quick and efficient.

He pulls back and chuckles when he sees the realization in my eyes. Pushing back my hair, he gets up and unfolds a large sack that was on the window seat. I try to crawl away but he steps on my hurt ankle again.

He sighs and nods his head, " I know what you must be thinking, it really would have been easier to get you earlier," he nods again, "but you know what they say: the higher the risk, the higher the reward." He smiles his sickening smile and places the sack over my head. I immediately start to struggle and push my knees up. He grunts and I hear a thud on the floor. I quickly take the sack off my head and push myself onto my elbows, to find him on the ground in a fetal position. I stand up and run to my bedroom door and clumsily slam it shut. 

I run down the stairs, aiming for the front door. When I pass the couch, the smell finally hits me. What I mean is, the lack of smell of alcohol. Around this time is when the stench is basically everywhere. But right now it smells like this morning. Was he telling the truth about killing my mother? Without any hesitation, go to look over the couch's edge and see a bloody mess. Just before I can completely comprehend what exactly happened to her I hear, his footsteps stomping down the steps. I take a step away hesitantly, not knowing what to do, when it becomes silent again. So silent that I could hear a pin drop. Then a voice so quiet I thought I imagined it says:

"Goodnight Sweets." And then I felt a punch to the side of my face, and felt my consciousness slip away. 

~*~*~*~

It is now 2:16 AM where I live rn, and I actually hate myself for fucking up my sleep schedule. 

Anywayysss night yall.