I love nights like this. Stormy nights. Where I can curl up with some hot chocolate and a good book. Where I can try to ignore the terror outside the safety of my walls.
I freeze at the sound of a knock on the front door. Slowly shutting my book, I stand. My dad had said he wouldn’t be home for another two hours. Besides, he always calls before. The knock comes again, louder and longer. I creep to the kitchen and grab a knife before making my way to the foyer. Rain darkens the sky outside, so I can’t see who is at the door. I slowly undo the deadbolt and turn the handle, taking great care to keep the knife hidden behind my back.
“Excuse me, miss, but my truck has broken down about a mile up the road, and I was wondering if I could use your phone.” The guy’s polite accent helps to soften some of my nerves.
“Of course,” I say, moving out of the way so he can come in. He keeps his head low, with his hood still pulled up. This sent little warning bells off inside my head. “What’s your name?”
“Xavier.” He finally glances up, and I take three big steps back, scared out of my wits.
“What are you?” I bring the knife up, and Xavier barely spares it a glance.
“Shhhh, it’s ok. I promise, I’m not going to hurt you.” His earnest expression doesn’t put me at ease in the slightest. Xavier holds up his hands in a nonthreatening stance. My hand is shaking so badly, I fear I will drop the knife.
“Get away!” I shout, hoping he will leave in peace, even though I know a 17 year old girl could never stand up to one of his kind.
“Just come with me, it’ll be ok. I’ll keep you safe.” His perfect face stares down at me, trying in vain to look innocent and unthreatening.
“Safe, safe! How would you keep me safe! YOU’RE ONE OF THEM!” I am sobbing now, hysterical at my idiocy. How could I have not recognized that Xavier was one of the evil ones until it was too late? He grabs at my arm, surprisingly gentle, and drags me out the door, kicking and screaming for help. Xavier pulls me into the back of a black, unmarked van parked outside my house.
By now I am shaking in misery and crying out loud. “PAPA, PAPA! Help, somebody, HELP ME!” I pound my fists on the interior wall of the van. Xavier’s hand sneaks around my face, holding a sweet-smelling cloth in front of my mouth, while his other hand holds the back of my head in place. I thrash around for a minute or so before giving into the blackness.
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Ok, so second new story here... Haha that didn't make sense did it?
SO PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT!
The funnier the better.
Anyways, I like this one a bit more than Neverever, but this isn't getting too deep into it yet.
I also dedicate this whole dang story to my bestfriend in the whole freaking world, LivesInADream, who invited me to her lakehouse and helped me edit/write the beginning parts in this story.
Check out her story called...
damn I forgot.
The Girl With the Purple Eyes~ that's it.
Bye bye for now!