6.2K 70 10

A year has passed since my rescue. I thanked the selfless driver relentlessly for his help. I probably wouldn't have survived much longer in the cold in that state. Everything now is fine. The police have captured two of the three men and they're on the last one's trail.

The best news was that Mr. Cuddles was okay. He was smart enough to find food for a few days before people took notice of my absence. One of my friends came over and took care of him in my absence.

I decided to move far away to a quiet small town in the south to pursue my dream of becoming an author. Using Anne's journal and my memories I compiled a riveting account of both of our stories. Right now it's in the publishing process.

One day I decide to look up Anne Lynch on Facebook. I find her profile quite easily. Though she hasn't been active for about two years now. I decide to look her up on Google instead. I wish I hadn't. The first result that pops up is an all too familiar news article. Anne had failed in her escape attempt. The Doll Master killed her and threw her remains into the Hudson River. A chill travels down my spine as I come to think that would've been me if I hadn't successfully escaped. I leave my office with a strange feeling bubbling in my stomach.

I plop onto my bed but a piece of paper crinkles under me. I pick it up reading it.

You thought you could escape me that easily? Think again.

"Mr. Cuddles," I call for my cat for comfort but he doesn't listen, "Mr. Cuddles! You get here right this instant!" My voice shakes with every word. My apartment is eerily silent.

I hear footsteps from the other room that are far too loud to be Mr. Cuddles. My breathing increases. It's my imagination. This isn't real. The footsteps stop outside my door.

"Mr. Cuddles?" I shout, "Are you okay?"

The heavy footsteps reach the door but Mr. Cuddles is nowhere to be seen.

Life SizeWhere stories live. Discover now