Stroke Of Fear

too much.

   Sweat coats my body, sliding down to absorb in my clothes. My hair clings to my skin. The trees clear for a small section showing me the trail. It’s not dark, but the sun is starting to dip lower in the sky. It makes me run faster. The dark always makes everything worse.

   The house looks just as frightening in the setting sun. The shutters clack against the house in the wind, and the porch swing sways slowly. The wood squeaks underneath my weight. I wonder if he knows I’m here yet. I can feel eyes crawling over me. A silent sob is trying to break from my lips, but I push it down. Tears aren’t going to fix this situation.

   I’m not even sure I’m moving. I don’t feel like I’m controlling myself. A dreamy gaze seems to be hovering over me. I don’t feel real. My body is numb. The door opens slowly sending a small creak across the room. Everything looks the same. Same cobwebs. Creepy photo. Same dusty floors.

   Light spills in from the windows, but it’s darkening in front of me. The sun is setting farther behind the trees, leaving the moon the job of helping me see. No noise. No movement. It looks empty, but I know it’s not. Taking small steps, I tiptoe up the stairs. I saw him in the room at the end of the hall. I’m crying like a baby now, trying to keep myself calm. My grip tightens around the hatchet, and I tuck it as closely to me as possible.

   The hallway is clear. Each eerie person in the pictures watches me as I walk by. The last of the sunbeams for the day flows through the windows as I walk by every room. The large wood door at the end is closed. Pressing my free hand against it, I push it open. It looks like the master bedroom. A huge oak bed sets in the middle, the sheets torn and ragged. My eyes settle on the dresser, then the desk. Everything looks in place. Did I not come to the right spot? Sorrow is building in my throat. This has to be the right place.

   Taking a step, I ease my way into the room. Checking behind the door and then to the closet. I swing it open, and my breath catches in my throat. Tanner is sitting in the corner, blood dripping from his head down his cheek. Falling to my knees I crawl to him and cradle his head in my hands. “Tanner… no! Tanner, please.” I’m rocking back and forth, feeling for a pulse. A straggling pulse moves against my fingertip.

   “He’s alive.”

   Voices are so unique and everyone has their own. Some you forget and others you don’t. I will never forget this one.

   Moving my eyes up the floor, I glaze up at Michael. He’s sitting on the bed, legs spread wide. His fingers interlaced with one another. The white cap covers his face, but when he meets my eyes I see him. A rush of memories flood my brain. The good. The bad. The fucking terrible. All of it. He looks the same. Same blue eyes. Same strong jaw.

   “Michael.”

   He screws his eyes shut and grips his hair. “Don’t!” he yells, jumping to his feet. “You.” He points his finger at me. He’s way bigger than I remember. Maybe it’s because I’m cowering down in the closet holding my boyfriend’s bloody head in my lap. “Aubrey, I’ve been watching you.” He grins and it sends ice over my bones. “Since the summer started. My mom had mentioned you were here. I knew it was the best place to get you. The best place…” He trails off, his eyes focusing on nothing.

   “Michael. Please let me go. Let us go.”

   He snarls and stalks toward me, dropping to his knees in front of me. “Aubrey,” he coos, running a finger along my skin. I try not to snatch away from him. I don’t want to make him any angrier. “You smell so fucking good. I can remember that smell.” He leans in and sniffs my hair. I jump, shaking from his closeness.

   He recoils back as if I slapped him. “You’ll let him touch you, but you won’t let me? I had you first! You’re mine!” He’s yelling so loud. My ears hurt from the sound. He looks down at Tanner and jumps to his feet. Before I can think, he’s moving his leg back to kick Tanner’s head. Covering him with my body, he lands a hard kick to my upper back.

   I scream at the throbbing pain—my eyes blurry, my body hurting. Michael grabs my hair and pulls me toward him. Every single hair in my head burns. I’m trying to grab his arms, but he’s moving too fast. My feet slide against the wooden floors, my clothes snagging at the old wood. I’m screaming and tears pour down my face. I kick, hit and bite. He growls, pulls me up and tosses me on the bed. No. No, this isn’t happening. No.

I land on the old bed, the covers smell of mildew. The sheets are torn and smell like death. Michael stands over me, staring down at me like I’m his lover. I once was. I once loved that face. That small smirk. Those blue eyes. Not now. Vomit is rising from my throat. Tanner’s body slumps against the wall. He’s out of it. Wake up!

   Grabbing his shirt, he pulls it off his chest. No. Tears stream down my face. His knees touch the bed. His gaze crawls down my body, and then back up to my face. “Stop crying. You didn’t cry when he fucked you, did you? Stop it or I’ll break his goddamn neck.”

   Shaking, I lie still, waiting for him to touch me. I have to get out of here, but I can’t leave Tanner. I just can’t. Michael leans down and trails a finger from the top of my foot all the way to my short shorts. He groans, massaging my thigh. “You use to shiver when I would do this,” he whispers. A distant look is on his face and then it’s gone. Back to sinister. “Now, you’re gonna scream.”

   Michael climbs on top of me, and I know it’s my only chance. Kicking my leg straight up, I hit him between the legs. “Fuck!’ he screams, rolling over to his side.

  He’ll be up in two seconds. I scramble to the floor, tossing my phone toward Tanner. I grab my hatchet and run.

   My body is heaving from leaving Tanner behind. But I know Michael is coming after me. He doesn’t have time to deal with Tanner. I take the stairs two at a time, sliding against the wooden floors and fumbling with the door. I hear his hard footsteps behind me. They’re getting closer. It’s completely dark when I get outside. The moonbeams send enough light to barely see the trail. Jesus, please let me make it. Please. The trail will take me to the road, and I can cut across toward the camp.

  “Stop running, Aubrey. I’m going to catch you either way.”

   He’s so close. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The hatchet in my hand feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. My legs are burning, my throat on fire. I have to make it. I have to get out of here.

   The road is vacant, not a car in sight. My heart sinks, but I stagger across the two-lanes and into the woods on the opposite site. This should take me to the camp. I don’t hear Michael’s footsteps anymore, and I don’t hear him yelling. Falling onto all fours, I scramble up and look behind me. He’s not there. Did he leave? Did he fall? I turn circles looking for him. Bats fly above me. The trees wave in the wind. Leaves fall around me. He’s gone.

   All I can hear is the wind and my breathing. It’s heavy in the darkness. I relax my shoulders and bring my hands to my face. Then a limb snaps. Then two. Then all I can hear is someone’s footsteps heavy in leaves. I turn, swinging my hatchet, and I catch the side of his arms.

   He howls out a cry and grabs his arm. It’s barely a scratch, but blood is dripping down to his fingertips. “Bitch. You’re gonna fucking pay for that.”

   A loud thump hits the back of my head, and I watch as the sky swirls and my vision blackens. He’s going to kill me.

* * *

   That feeling is back. My senses are heightened, and I can almost taste the water. The hurried sound of it hitting the cliff wakes me. It’s still dark. Holes are all throughout my clothes, giving the wind easy access to my skin. A deep headache burns the back of my head and it’s sticky. My fingers tangle in my hair and—what I can assume is blood—is caked in it. God, no. He’s here. I can sense his gaze on me.

   “You’re awake. Finally.”

   No. I groan, rolling onto my side to sit up. The cliff is right beside me. If I put my arm out anymore I’d roll off into the abyss. I know what he’s going to do to me now. The same as last time. Drown me.

   “Beautiful isn’t it?” he chuckles. The tip of his shoe is touching my back. One good kick and I’ll be falling to my death. Fingers slide down my hair all the way to my back. “I remember when you would practice for hours. Just like me.” There is a smile in his voice. I pray there is at least one ounce of compassion left in this man I used to love. Rolling onto my back, I stare up at him. He bends to his knees and cups my face.

   Holding back the bile rising in my throat, I look up at him. “I remember.”

   He smiles. It’s so familiar. Then it fades and a look that would strike fear in anyone forms. “Then you left.