AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’ll admit the healing process is fucking brutal, and there were days I had more doubts than hope that I would ever move on. I owe it to the girls he murdered to fight like hell for the life I deserve. A life they would never have.
The murders pushed the local authorities to implement a 5 p.m. closing time for businesses to give people a chance to get home before dark with the hope that the killer would not abduct anyone during daylight hours. These small-town cops were overwhelmed with the murders. I don’t think they could wrap their minds around the sheer violence perpetrated by the killer. It was inconceivable, especially in a town that rarely experienced crime in general.
I heard a rumor circulating in town that the police chief had called for help from the FBI, which meant my peaceful existence was likely in jeopardy. It wouldn’t be long before agents would knock on my door demanding information and trampling all over the past I had kept a secret for all these years.
It would become an even bigger shit show, with me as the main attraction.
Shades of pink and yellow danced through the trees around my property as the sun set above the thick forest. The sky was glowing with an array of warm colors, and the shadows of the trees created a peaceful ambiance.
As I pull into the garage, I make sure the garage door is fully closed before I get out of the car. I keep my foot on the brake and put the car in reverse to activate the reverse camera.
This is part of my obsessive ritual to double-check that no one snuck in behind my car and was waiting for me to get out. A long-standing safety measure I’ve convinced myself will keep me safe.
After disconnecting my phone from the charging cable, I slip it into my purse. With my keys in hand, I turn the car off and walk to the passenger side to grab my groceries.
I am considering whether or not to bring in the newspaper. I pause, choosing to fold the newspaper in half and tuck it under my arm.
I rush inside the garage door into my house and shut it, deactivating the alarm and then reactivating it immediately.
Once inside, my first task was to check the front door and all the windows to ensure they were still locked. I have to follow this obsessive-compulsive routine every time I return home to satisfy this compulsion driven by my paranoia.
As I scan the house for any signs of intrusion, I sigh, feeling foolish. I know it is irrational, but I can’t shake the feeling that he is still watching me.
My heart is racing as I continue my search for any signs of intrusion. Every creak in the floorboards sends shivers down my spine, amplifying my fear. It’s as if the walls whisper secrets, reminding me he is hunting me, lurking in the shadows.
For all these years, I constantly tell myself thatheis gone and can’t hurt me anymore. I repeat this mantra to myself over and over again. But deep down, I don’t believe it myself.
I try to regain my composure by taking a deep breath meant to calm my nerves.
I am safe.
I am in control.
With each passing day, I become more determined to reclaim my peace of mind. I go to therapy, take medication, and take additional security precautions, no matter how tedious or outwardly laughable they may seem. I do it for my sanity and to preserve the peace I have fought tooth and nail for.
But despite these efforts, nothing I did ever completely erased him from my mind. He had infiltrated my very existence, leaving me in a constant state of paranoia. Every unfamiliar face in the crowd sent my heart racing, my mind conjuring up terrifying scenarios.
As a child, I remember being scared of the boogeyman hiding in my closet or under my bed. My parents would check every night before I went to sleep, reassuring me that my fears were unwarranted. They promised me that nothing was there and I was safe.
As a child, I believed them.
But as an adult, I experienced the boogeyman firsthand. The boogeyman I experienced was not a figment of my imagination or a scary story parents told their children to get them to behave.
No.
The Boogeyman I met was a real person made of flesh and bone.
He was not anything like the stories we were told.
He was so much more.
He is evil incarnate.
Incomprehensible evil.
An evil I could never have imagined, not even in my nightmares.
After he took me, he stole my innocence and naivety physically and mentally, now frequently occupying my thoughts.
