Gloomy clouds loomed above her, darkening the sky. There was thunder and lightning-like the heavens were unleashing their anger on mankind. A girl ran through the rainy woods, sprinting for dear life, trying to escape from the psychopath that was chasing her down.
The ground was muddy, covered in sludge from the rain, impeding her clumsy movements. The wind stung her face, clawing at her as she stumbled - freezing, lungs burning - through the thick trees. Her adrenaline began to wear off and her frenzied stamina dissipated, suddenly yearning for air. She cried as she ran deeper and deeper into the woods, but her steps only brought her closer to death.
She pulled out her phone as she was running to call for help, but raindrops blurred the shining screen. She strained her eyes, wiping the phone vigorously, finally seeing through the mangled, distorted words, the message that spelt her damnation.
There was no signal.
No help would come.
And at that moment, she lost hope.
She thought back to how she was having fun with her friends at Carolina’s party and decided to take a bathroom break. After that, all she recalled was a blunt hit to her head and everything going black. When she woke up, she was in the woods instead of Carolina’s house and there was a person sitting across from her with a dagger in his hand, dressed with a black mask that covered the whole of his face except the eyes. He told her she had five minutes to find her way out of the woods and if she didn’t make it in time, he would kill her. There was no time to question what was happening as her reflexes kicked into motion.
The girl was so engrossed in her thoughts as she ran, that she didn’t notice the man was watching her from the shadows. The man observed her silently, knowing full well that nobody could help her now. He watched as she tried desperately again to cry for help and as time passed, her voice weakened. She was already too deep in the woods, his prey, and the indifferent trees of Mother Nature were the only things who could hear her.
The man usually liked to play with his game and enjoyed watching as his victims pointlessly screamed for help before they eventually gave up. It aroused his primal instincts and made his blood pump. But as much as he loved that feeling, he needed to pull himself back to reality and cut this off soon.
So, he crept closer for the kill, the sound of his footsteps masked by the pitter-patter of the downpour.
“Oh, Lisa!” He chuckled evilly.
Lisa whipped around at the sound of her name. How did he manage to catch up with me? She wondered frantically. She twisted around, searching for an escape before she felt a sting across the front of her neck.
Lisa froze and brought her shaking palms towards her neck where she felt the sting. The masked culprit was already in front of her, smirking down at her. The red liquid was flowing smoothly from her neck down to her chest—he had slit her throat.
Lisa’s legs gave out and she fell, her body twitching slightly as she looked into the amused eyes of her killer in shock.
The murderer stood above her, watching as the soil mixed with her blood in a revolting blend, but it was not enough. He wanted more.
He plunged his knife deep into her chest and continued stabbing her, revelling in the way her blood sprayed on his face. Her fear, her terrified gaze as he twisted the knife deeper with each strike, was his reward.
“See you at the gates of Hell,” he said to the dead Lisa. He turned and walked away into the night.
The heavy rain washed away Lisa’s blood, cleansing the scene in the postmortem, but his crimes would never be rid.
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