Page 8 of Rafe

Her instinct warned her to hurry. The sound of footsteps sounded, and she whipped her head around to find an empty street. She stabbed her fingers into her purse, searching for her pepper gel.

An eerie fog rolled towards her. “Who’s there?”

Her skin prickled with gooseflesh as she became aware of a presence she couldn’t see. “Where are you? I know you’re here.”

She withdrew her pepper gel, the ridges of the cartridge button brushed her thumb. A fresh surge of bravery rushed forth as she kept her eyes trained on the empty street. A few hundred feet and she’d be safely inside her home.

The little pink lights on her shotgun home flickered, and she considered her options. She was so close. Stay and fight in the fog? Call the police? Scream? All of the above? The sound of a car door slamming thumped, and in an instant, the decision was made. RUN!

Skylar bolted towards the door. As she slid in the key, she heard someone behind her. Her heart pounded in her chest, but her mind didn’t falter as she spun toward it and pointed the pepper gel at the stranger.

“Hey, Sky.” The man stepped under the streetlight.

“Who are you?” With one hand on the key and the other on the pepper gel, she kept the weapon pointed at the stranger. He wore a grey pea coat and jeans. She glanced at his expensive leather loafers.

“Hey, hey. You can put that down. It’s me. Greg.”

“I don’t know a Greg. Get away.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure you do. It’s me.” His creepy smile warned her he wasn’t playing with a full deck.

“Greg. Back the fuck away. Go home or this might be the last thing you remember.” Skylar feigned bravery, refusing to let him see her fear.

“No, come on now. Don’t you remember we met at the con last year. You know, it was last March. St. Paddy’s Day horror fest.”

A fan? A demented fan. A stalker. “I’m giving you a chance to leave now. Forget about me forever.”

“Remember the slasher flick you were in? Die Cabin Twenty-Five? I loved you in that. Yours was the best death scene. Anyway, I thought I’d swing by while I was here.”

“You thought wrong.”

“I really think it’s a good idea you reconsider. We could do a reenactment of that last scene. Work out the kinks.”

Skylar’s stomach tightened as the smile fell from his face and he balled his fist. Shit, shit, shit.

“I came just to see you. Let’s talk.” Then he lunged at her.

Though Skylar had never expected anything to ever happen, she had trained for fight scenes for her Police Officer role.

“No!” As she depressed the pepper gel, her foot swung between his legs. He doubled over, his screams echoing down the quiet street.

Skylar waited as he stumbled but didn’t fall down. On autopilot, she swung her foot toward him in a roundhouse kick, the bridge of her foot stung with a sharp pain as it crushed onto his nose. As he tipped backwards, the thud of his head cracking the pavement came with a sense of relief.

Skylar didn’t hesitate another second as she sprinted to her front door. She switched her grip on her keys, shaking as she jammed it against the lock.

“Please, oh God, please. Yes!” The key slid into the slot and she twisted it, opening the lock. Her relief was short lived as pain stung her head. She screamed, dropping her purse as he’d grabbed her hair from behind.

“Get off of me! Help!” Adrenaline surged through her veins. Determined to survive, she fought back.

“Get the fuck off me! Now!” She threw her elbow back, landing in his gut and drew her fist back upward to his face.

Released from his grip, she slipped into her house and slammed her door shut, quickly locking the deadbolt. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her chest tightened as she crumpled onto the floor.

“Call 911. My phone. Where’s my phone? My purse.” She sucked a breath, searching for it. “No, No. No.”

Skylar forced herself to calm down and assess the situation. With no purse and no phone, she’d be forced to wait until the morning.

“What the fuck?” Sitting against the wall with her knees drawn to her chest, her mind raced. Who the hell is Greg? She didn’t recognize him, but it was possible he’d met her at a con. Or he could just have been some random drunk who had one too many. Regardless, she was trapped in her own home without her phone.