Chapter Eight.
I spent the next couple of weeks trying to contact Bill. After that night of the attack, he mysteriously disappeared; my calls being received by his voice mail and my texts unread and left unanswered. A wave of children going missing rocked Derry days after Bill had vanished. Three young children in the first week, five in the next. Posters were stuck up on telephone poles, on walls and windows of shops in an attempt to reach the people for any help in finding the missing boys and girls.
Another long, drawn-out week passed and I had finished my work for the day. I packed up my bag and said my goodbyes to the other receptionist, Mary-Ann. She was a petite, middle-aged woman with blond hair and soft blue eyes.
"Be careful on your way home, dear." She spoke softly. The disappearances of the children made everyone on edge. Especially herself as she had three children of her own.
I nodded before walking out of the building and into the strangely quiet and eerie street. It was the afternoon and usually there would be people walking the streets and cars driving down the roads. But today it was dead.
I was overcome with a sense of foreboding which had washed over me as I stood gazing down the road. I looked around quickly. I swear I could feel eyes intensly staring at me; watching me from afar as I took a few steps forward.
A tuff of orange hair appeared out from behind a nearby tree and yellowed eyes narrowed in on my back.
"Hehehehehe. Did you miss me, babydoll?"