Saving Sarah

• Claudine Bugeja, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2014

A young girl only the age of eight hid in a pitch-dark corner of her room, scrunched compactly into the size of a beach ball. All that could be heard was the wind, howling wildly like an injured dog, but that was muffled, like the sobs that came from the terrified girl. The stuttering engine of an old, run-down car broke the deafening silence in the almost empty house. Doors slammed. A large object hit a wall and was followed by an irritated grunt. Heavy footsteps could be heard approaching her room, causing a racket that could wake up the whole street in this late hour.
An insistent banging on her door, as loud as gunshots started and abruptly stopped before the door was flung open, sharply hitting the wall and the girl trembled with the fragile walls that enclosed her body. The intimidating, giraffe tall and bulky silhouette of an adult swayed in the doorway, concealing most of the dim yellow light that poured into her bedroom, casting a monstrous shadow that loomed over her threateningly, as if it was about to violently attack her. He sauntered drunkenly into the threshold murmuring “Sarah, come out come out! Wherever you are” like they were playing an innocent game of hide-and-seek. However the malice in his voice was not concealed from his slur. Stumbling further and hitting his hip on the corner of her small desk he let out a roar, bending over in agony, above the spot which Sarah was curled. He straightened his posture, scanning the room. He was a predator and she the prey. Sarah shrunk further but there wasn’t any point. He had spotted her. As he smirked slyly she knew there was no escape. Sarah’s young, angelic features contorted in fear, she was a dear caught in headlights. Frantic and terrified she scrambled to her feet while an endless waterfall poured from her eyes. She pressed her tiny frame against the wall wishing it would swallow her whole and save her.
He advanced towards her, leering, a sharp object by his side, glistening like a jewel as it caught the light. All time stopped. Sarah began to shriek like a banshee. She tried desperately to run but her feet were glued to the floor. Her muscles frozen in a mix of shock and fear. Somewhere in the distance a door could be heard being slammed open, a rush of feet running and a scream that drowned out Sarah’s as he raised the knife. In a split second he was lying flat on the worn carpet, his chest rising and falling with every shallow breath he took. Standing on the other side of his body was a man in about his mid-twenties, holding a fry-pan loosely. Dropping the pan, he took the small, hysterical girl in his arms and carried her out of the house of horrors. She was never to return.