It felt as if a thousand pounds were rested on my eyelids, so I didn't bother opening my grey orbs. That was until the events of the previous night came flooding into my mind.

I shot up. Was he still here?!

Trying desperately to ignore the pain in my right hand from the cut he had inflicted on my skin last night, I stumbled over to the closet and hastily opened the wooden door. There was no sign of him. I sighed in relief. Maybe he was only here for tonight and I could possible forget that and live my life. I might as well crawl back into bed, I thought.

When I turned around, I gasped at the sight of a torn piece of paper on my nightstand. He wrote that, I know it.

With shaking hands, I picked up the paper and read it.

If you tell anyone about last night, or me, you're dead. Literally.

You should know that I don't take no for an answer, that's why I drugged you.

I'll be returning this afternoon, around three, maybe? Don't even think about running away, princess.

And to say thanks for letting me hide in bed with you, I left a little.. surprise.. in your mum's room. Go check it out if you'd like. x

By the time I had finished reading his little note, my jaw was practically on the floor. He was in bed with me?! Tears sprung in my eyes, along with questions in my head. When did he leave? Why would he be coming back? And what is this 'little surprise' in my mum's room?

Before I did anything, I had to get something for my hand. Dried blood surrounded the large cut that went directly across my palm.

I walked into the bathroom, which was the room just before my mum's, but when something in her room caught my eye, I backed up and took a look. Of course that was the worst mistake of my life, because what I saw in there, caused my eyes to widen and my mouth to let out a blood-curdling shriek.

Ignoring anything in the bathroom, I bolted into my bedroom and slammed the door shut. Tears streamed down my face as I climbed onto the bed, back pressed against the headboard while I stared at the closed door.

On the other side of that door, just down the hall in her room, was my now dead mother, hanging by a rope which was attached to a still spinning ceiling fan, blood covering her chest.

"You're sick!!" I cried out to the man who obviously murdered my mother.

Oh my gosh. He's a murderer.

I covered my mouth with my hands and took a glance at the wall clock I have in my bedroom. 12:58pm. He would be here in two hours.

I can't go anywhere. Not like I'd want to, though. I mean, of course I'd want to, but I'm not going past mum's room, I might not even leave this one. The sight is too horrifyingly gruesome.


For the next two hours I sat curled up in a tight ball on my bed, crying my heart out.

I watched the clock as the second hand moved supposedly fast, going in circles. Before I knew it, it was 2:50pm. I didn't know what I was supposed to do when he came. What do I say? 'Oh hey, I noticed you've murdered my mum. Nice to see you again.' No, that most certainly would not do.

"You should've cleaned that up."

I gasped, hearing his voice. My head jerked to see the still anonymous man carefully stepping over the shards of glass. I cowered back in fear, pressing my back against the headboard.

"You, you killed her!" I cried, tears still streaming down my face.

His gaze rose to meet my terrified one. "I see you've read the note I wrote you."