Last night I woke for no apparent reason, at 3 o clock. Moonlight spilled like liquid through wrought iron bars, leaving a ghostly striped shadow on the floor, just shy of my bed. I drew thin, coarse blankets closer to my body and shivered. There were bars in the window but no glass, allowing a bone chilling wind to flood the room.
I had been kept in the room for over 4 months now, the prisoner, prize and prey of a faceless monster. The only part of his face I ever saw was his eyes. But those eyes! They plagued my nightmares, nightmares for there were no dreams in this place, no chance of reprieve. Just the cold press of a blade to your throat.
Words cannot describe the dread those eyes inspired in me. Bright blue, cold, filled with sick thoughts I had no desire to know. But choice was not a luxury I could afford. No, the only thing I had left was my life and I feared even that may not by my own much longer.
My heart lurched and began to race as voices, whispers sounded outside the door. The voices raised a little and I caught snatches of conversation. Threats. An argument.
My blood ran cold as a key turned in the lock. A figure dressed all in black entered, a ski mask covering all but those hideous eyes. The blue eyes sparkled with malice and he started toward me, leaving the door open.
A wave of hope crashed through me and I shifted toward freedom, away from my captor. His eyes followed me, his stance like a stalking beast. I shuddered, trying not to glance toward the door too much, trying not to make my intentions obvious on my face. But it didn’t matter, or so I thought. I’d be out of the door before he could reach me.
A slight window of opportunity opened as he took his eyes off me for a second. I flung myself forward on impulse. I was weak from months of imprisonment and only got to the threshold before giving out but momentum did the rest and I was free!
A crack, like a gunshot broke the air around me. I turned too late to realise it was a gunshot. I saw the dark metal in his hand, light glinting off the side of the weapon, the gun. I saw it before I saw the bullet in the air. In fact I never saw the bullet.
It ploughed into my chest with the force of a thousand men and blood, hot and viscous, flowed freely from the hole. My entire body turned to ice; pain is not hot but cold beyond belief.
As the blood bubbled forth from my lips and I took a last, screaming breath, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. My skin was deathly pale and my eyes seemed distant in rapidly darkening sockets.
I grinned. The twisted grin of a clown after midnight.
I was free.