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I understood where I was now. I was back at the lake house again, only this time, I was terrified and begging for my life.
I knew what I had to do. I had to run. Had to escape. He was coming after me, hunting me, and that knife was right there with him, ready to plunge into me as soon as he caught up.
I blinked back the tears stinging my eyes and envisioned myself fleeing down the hall and hurtling down the stairs. All of a sudden I felt like I was falling again, twisting into an endless abyss, and then I saw another explosion of stars across my vision.
Oh, god….
He’d finally caught up to me.
My head lolled back as my mouth dropped open, and I screamed until I couldn’t breathe.
Sienna
The night of - April 12th, 2019
11:49 p.m.
I launched myself off the bed and sprinted out of the room, heart pounding in my chest as a scream tore from my lungs. I’d never felt such bone-wrenching fear before. It clung to my insides like cold, skeletal hands, sending chills through every inch of me.
Paxton’s deep voice echoed down the hallway, haunting in its intensity. “Sienna! Stop!”
Terror propelled me forward as the sound of heavy footsteps pounded on the floorboards behind me. I turned my head over my shoulder for a split-second when I reached the corner. Paxton was charging down the hall, knife clutched in one hand.
I screamed again and turned the corner, footsteps echoing through the lake house as I raced onward. When I arrived at the stairs, I practically leapt down them, bare feet barely touching the steps.
Just as I reached the second floor landing, I heard a sudden crash and the unmistakable sound of Paxton stumbling somewhere on the stairs above me. A glimmer of hope ignited in me, but I didn’t stop or turn to look at him again. His athletic background meant he would probably recover quicker than the average person, and I needed every second I could get to have a chance at survival.
I burst forward, my breath ragged and muscles burning with exertion. Footsteps started pounding behind me again, and adrenaline surged through me, urging me to keep moving, to escape.
I finally reached the ground floor and turned left, heading toward the closest door. Just as I began to believe that I might have a chance at making it outside, my foot caught on something.
Before I could react, I hurtled forward, body slamming against the hard floor. Pain lanced through my left ankle as I lay sprawled on the ground, and my vision blurred with tears, but I didn’t give up. I pushed myself up to my hands and knees, preparing to get back up on my feet.
That was when I saw what I’d tripped over.
It was Troy McClennan. His lifeless, bloodied body lay twisted on the floor, vacant eyes staring unblinkingly into the void. A strangled scream escaped my mouth, and I scrambled away, hands clawing at the blood-smeared floorboards as another burst of adrenaline flooded my veins.
Heavy footsteps thudded behind me again. Two leather-gloved hands grabbed me before I could get back up and run away. One hand closed over my mouth, instantly muffling my shriek of terror, and the other forced me all the way back down to the ground, onto my stomach. Paxton’s distinct scent wafted into my nostrils—spicy cologne and citrusy bodywash mixed with lingering woodsmoke from the bonfire.
“Paxton!” I tried to scream his name through the hand over my mouth, but it came out in a strangled whimper. “Please!”
He planted his knee on the small of my back to hold me still. Then the knife plunged into me for the first time.
I expected it to hurt, but it didn’t. At least not right away. I felt the impact of the blade coming down on me, along with a strange pressure as it slid between my ribs, but there was no pain.
My face pressed into the floor, gloved hand still covering my mouth, and I felt the knife slide out of me. Then it plunged back in again, three more times. The world seemed to slow down more and more with each wound, and the room spun into a dizzying blur.
An intense, searing pain finally hit me, radiating through my entire body. Each breath became a struggle, as if the air itself were composed of tiny shards of glass. I could feel warm blood pouring from my back and pooling around me, and a singular thought overwhelmed my mind. You’re going to die.
I choked out one word into the hand loosely covering my mouth. “Why?”
Paxton didn’t reply. The knife plunged back in for a fifth and final time.
Amidst the agony and certainty of my impending death, a faint voice piped up from a distant corner of my mind. You can make it. Just hold on.
I clung to that last fragment of strength, fighting against the darkness that threatened to envelop me, desperately holding onto life with every fiber of my being. I managed to stick one arm out in front of me in an attempt to grab the edge of a nearby rug and pull myself away, but Paxton moved his hand farther up my face and pressed it down even harder, covering my nose along with my mouth.
Oh, god…
