I am tired.
I am sad.
I can't eat.
I can't sleep.
I'm a mess.
I think about calling Thomas all the time.
I NEED to fix this.
But that voice. That voice stops me every time.
I watch the news.
And I gasp.
The news announcer says, "A convict has escaped a Nebraska prison. His name is Daniel Fortz. He was arrested for horrific and excessive child abuse. He escaped last Thursday around 2:30 AM. If anyone has any information on his whereabouts, please call the police."
I'm frozen. I can't speak.
This is why I have been having those thoughts, those nightmares.
WHY ARE THEY JUST NOW REPORTING THIS ON THE NEWS?!
Maybe they had before. I haven't really been watching the news that much...
He's coming for me.
He's going to kill me.
His voice taunts me. He tells me that he can't wait to see me. He has a special surprise for me.
I have to tell someone.
I think about calling Erica, but she doesn't really understand the relationship with my dad. And even if she did...
I think about calling my mom. I don't want to worry her. She's probably already stressed enough as it is.
I have nobody else to call.
Yes you do. My heart says.
I hadn't heard it in a while.
He won't help me. Why should he? I ended us. I've not answered his texts or his phone calls. He thinks I hate him. I've been a total bi-
Try.
With shaking hands, I pick up my cell phone, and I call him.
It goes to voice mail.
I leave a message.
"Th-Thomas, it's Kylie. My dad is... he's coming. He's going to find me. I-"
"Kylie?" Thomas's voice says. He had picked up the phone in the middle of me leaving a message. He sounds terrible.
"Thomas... I-I'm sorry. I-"
There's a knock on my door.
I know it's him. I can feel it.
I grab a knife from the kitchen, and I hide in the closet, locking the door.
"He's outside my front door. He's here." My voice shakes. "I'm sorry for calling you like this but-"
BANG BANG BANG
"Kylie, that's him banging on the door, isn't it? I'll call the police. I have to hang up, but I'll call the police. I'll be there as soon as I can. I promise. Kylie, stay calm. Don't bloody move. I'm going to help you."
"Please hurry Thomas..."
"I will."
He hangs up, and I start to dial 911, but after the 9, I can hear my front door crash open. I drop my phone in surprise, and it shuts off. What a great thing to happen at this moment.
I hope I didn't break my phone...
I feel around for it, but I pause and stop moving as I hear footsteps.
I grab the knife from beside me. I hold it to me.
The footsteps continue.
Thomas, please hurry.
I try not to let tears fill my eyes. I have to stay alert. I have to stay calm.
I hear him open a door. Then another. I hear him murmur, "Where the hell is she?"
It's definitely my dad.
Lord, please protect me. I silently pray.
I hold the knife out slightly in front of me.
Will Thomas really help me?
I have to believe he will.
The footsteps are closer now. Louder. More prominent.
Oh my gosh. Please don't find me, please don't find me, please don't find me.
I see a shadow under the crack at the bottom of the door. I tense up.
He's standing right there.
I hold my breath.
The door slams open.
There he is. He has dirt and grime on his face. He is covered in scars and scratches.
Somehow, this gives me some satisfaction.
He looks older. Of course he does, he IS older.
He looks evil.
"Well, well, well. Look at this. Kylie, hiding in a closet, with nothing but a knife to protect her. You won't kill me, Kylie. I know you won't, you're too weak."
He reaches down towards me, but I lash my knife out, and I cut his hand.
"Ah! What the hell?! This freaking hurts! Dammit!" He says a lot more curse words, during which I get the strength and the courage to stand up. I hold the knife out again.
"Don't touch me Daniel." I growl.
He laughs. "Daniel? I'm your dad sweetheart, you can call me dad."
"Don't call me 'sweetheart' you bastard. You aren't my dad, you are nothing to me. Get out of my house, now." I tried my best not to let my voice shake in fear.
"Oh, my feelings are so hurt." He pulls out a knife from his back pocket. It's not as big as mine, but it's sharper and has a wicked looking edge. It's notched. "This knife hurts like hell. You don't want me to use it on you, do you? Just come with me, and I won't hurt you.
"You're such a liar. I'll never go anywhere with you." I aim for his hand again, but he knows what's coming now. He moves out of the way, and he cuts my arm.
I gasp in pain. It does hurt like hell.
My dad backs out of the closet.
"Come on. If you want to fight, we'll fight. And afterwards, you might be lucky enough to be alive." He tosses his knife in his hands menacingly.
"You're a terrible father and a despicable person. I wish-"
"That I were dead? Oh, I know sweetheart, trust me. Now get out of the damn closet before I make you."
I hesitate. I'll get killed either way.
I might as well go down fighting.
I step out of the closet, and immediately, my dad punches me in the face and cuts my shoulder, deeply.
"Dammit!" I yell in pain. "Someone, help me, please!" I call out.
Can no one hear me, out in the hallway?
"No one is going to save you, hun. I tied them all up, blockaded the doors, all that good stuff. You won't be saved." He answers my question.
Had he really done that? But why else would no one help me?
Blood was pouring down my arm.
Dang, right after my scars had started to heal. I thought I wouldn't see blood for a while.
I reach out and try to stab him in the stomach, but I only get a scratch on him.
He lunges for me again, but I quickly move to the side. I extend my arm and slice his shoulder, like he had sliced mine.
As quick as a cobra, he throws his knife at me. I barely make it without getting stabbed as I jump away, but the knife cuts my side.
"Oh my gosh!" I yell, and stumble, holding my side as I feel blood start to pour out.
I was going to die.
But suddenly, I hear a crash downstairs, in the lobby.
"Police! Put your hands up where we can see them!"
My dad's eyes grow wide, and as he is distracted, I throw my knife at him, and it lands in his leg.
He grunts, yells out curse words, and stumbles. I yell out as loud as I can, "Help! Up here! He's going to-"
I hear a gun being cocked. My eyes open wide, and I turn and see my dad with a gun pointed at me.
"Say one more word and you're dead. I should've killed you when I had the chance."
He grabs me by the hair, pulls the knife out of his leg with a groan of pain, and throws it on he floor.
He wraps an arm around my neck, and puts the gun against my temple.
I'm as good as dead.
All of a sudden, police appear in my doorway.
"Drop your weapon and put your hands up! Let her go!"
They move in, but my dad says, "Take one more step and I'll shoot her. The gun is already cocked. How about you guys drop your weapons and put your hands up. Then I'll walk out of here with the girl, and everything will be great."
Long silence. All of a sudden, my dad shoots the ground, making everyone flinch.
"You believe me now? Put your damn weapons down, NOW!"
An officer opens his mouth to speak, but my dad cocks the gun again.
"You've got five seconds until I kill the girl."
"One."
The police try to move in, but my dad hits me in the head with he gun. Hard. I feel blood on my head.
"Two. Three. F-"
I lift my leg up backwards, and I kick him as hard as I can where it hurts.
He grunts in pain, and starts to fall to his knees, but not before shooting the gun. The bullet lands in my arm, and I fall to the ground in pain.
I hear two gun shots.
My vision starts to go blurry with all the pain.
In the background, I hear an officer say, "He's dead?"
"Yeah, he's dead."
I felt relief.
Then I hear, "Kylie."
Someone runs up to me. Thomas.
"Kylie. Kylie, please don't die. Don't close your eyes. Kylie, come on. Come on, stay awake. Don't die on me. Come on!" I feel a tear land on my face. His tear.
I try to say something. But before I could get a sound out of my mouth, an officer pulls him away and says, "Stay out of the way, son!"
I'm being lifted onto something. I hear Thomas's voice. I'm being taken somewhere. I'm outside. I'm in an ambulance.
I pass out.