Blood Wounds

Blood Wounds

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Fri, Jan 2, 2015
My knees were shaking. Close to trembling. I struggled to get up because of the tremors. I had no memory of the last 24 hours. My mind was a black hole with no recollection of the last day. I began to walk until I stepped on something soft. I looked down and gasped in horror. There lie a cold lifeless body, and in my hand was a glinting silver knife.
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I woke up in a room I didn't recognize, my fingers tracing the rough fabric of a bedspread that wasn't mine. The air was thick with something unfamiliar, and every small difference in the space set off alarm bells in my head. My heart raced as I scrambled for the door-locked. Panic clawed at my chest. Then he appeared in the doorway, his smile crooked, his eyes dark with intent. He spoke no words, but his presence alone screamed danger. Every exit was sealed. Every attempt to call for help met with eerie dismissals from voices that seemed in on the nightmare. And as he handed me a letter-a love note scrawled in childish handwriting-I realized this wasn't just a kidnapping. It was something far worse. I don't know who he is. I don't know what he wants. But I do know one thing: I need to escape before it's too late.

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