Him

• Thalia Foster, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2021

my blood pumped as I ran. The rain pounding down as it washed away the blood. Washed away the pain. Pools of dark velvet liquid swirled at my feet, as I skid across the road. Was he still following? I glance backwards for a moment, and slow as I notice the empty white sheen of rain. He's gone. Thank god. My head still pounded in pain and my cuts ached from deep inside my limbs, but I slowed. Why did he even follow, the police were already after him. I groan a I mistakenly poke a deep dark cut in my left arm. Thick dark blood slowly oozes out of the deep painful cut. I spot a house in the distance. Walking quickly towards the doorway of a sleek pale house, standing over me. As I rang the glistering clean bell, I stood -- cold, bloody, pale -- waiting for an answer. Shivering in as the door opened, I could feel him watching me. His dark eyes peeling away my skin. standing over me waiting to cruelly defy me. A shiver goes down my spine, cold like his grasp on my mind, as I try to shake these thoughts. I'm fine now. I'll be fine. he's gone, I can go home.

But as the cold dug into my unmoving body I lay in my bed, at home, finally. . I couldn't help but think, what exactly happened? I could vividly remember the... things... the man did to me, and the running, and blood. But I couldn't remember how it started, or what he looked like. As I ponder on this thought I hear a deep chuckle. I freeze. As I slowly turn my stiff head in the direction of the sound, I see him. The man. Staring straight at me through the dark veil of my room. his eyes glowed through the dark. Just as it began. It shall end. I shall end. As we all do.