by Luis Samways
“Jesus,” she said, realizing she was having a panic attack.
It was a regular occurrence for her. It happened many times a day. She didn’t know what set them off, but she knew how to ease herself out of them. She took one deep breath and held it in. In that moment, she caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. Worn-out eyes stared back at her. She could see the cars behind her. All of them looked ominous, one of them in particular. A black sedan was on her tail. She blinked twice, rapidly, and then opened her eyes once more. She saw the sedan again, but this time it was farther away. Something was off, but she knew that her fleeting panic was causing such thoughts. If she was to see a butterfly at that very moment, she would suspect it of being an omen. That was Serena all over. She was a superstitious soul.
The panic finally settled after a minute or two. She was used to driving while suffering an attack. Her doctor had told her to take meds to ease the symptoms, but she refused to do so. She believed that they would numb her soul, turning her into something, or someone, she wouldn’t recognize.
She was near her house now. No more than a minute or so to go. The panic hadn’t gone yet. It was still there, nibbling at her insides. But she had it under control. It wasn’t going to beat her. She was adamant of that. She caught another glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror. Her eyes looked hollow. They expressed pain and sorrow, while being surrounded by red circles around her pupils. She looked as if she had a fire brewing in her soul. But she was determined to extinguish it. She wouldn’t let it get the better of her. She wouldn’t let it destroy her.
Then she noticed something. Something that was staring her right in the face. The car behind her. The black sedan was still there. It was tailing her. Edging ever closer. She didn’t know if what she was seeing was a sign, or if it was just a regular car. She wasn’t a paranoid person, but she knew when something didn’t feel right. She put her foot down on the gas. The car sped up. She flicked her eyes between the road and the rearview mirror. With every second that passed, her house grew nearer, and the sedan got farther away. She took a hard left and then a right. She was now on her street. The suburban housing on either side looked welcoming. She was still keeping a watchful eye on her mirror. The car that had spooked her was gone. She felt safe again. She was home, so there wasn’t anything to worry about.
She saw her house sitting on the corner of the street, right at the end. She smiled. She felt a sense of relief to be back. She flicked her cigarette out of the window and rolled it back up. She pulled into her drive. Her heart sank suddenly. There was a man on her doorstep. He was smiling at her. She didn’t recognize him. But her momentary sense of fear was washed away when she saw the kindness in his eyes. She knew there was nothing to be afraid of.
“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am,” she heard him say.
She nodded and got out of the car. The sounds of birds chirping in the trees and yard work being done in the background comforted her. She noticed that none of her immediate neighbors were home. She was the only one with a car in her driveway. She brought her attention back to the man on her porch. He was tall. He had a dark suit on. His eyes were piercing yet gentle. He was young. Maybe twenty-four to twenty-five. Definitely under thirty.
“Can I help you?” Serena asked.
The man nodded. She walked up to him, was just about to fish out her keys when she spotted something in his right hand. It glinted in the sunlight. Her heart thumped in her chest. He had a knife. He saw the fear in her eyes. He covered her mouth with his left hand and struck her with his right. The long nine-inch blade went into her chest. A large popping sound went off. Two of her ribs had cracked. The man took the knife out of her and swung back once more. This time he struck her in the abdomen. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed onto the ground. She was gasping for air, gargling on her own blood. But the man wasn’t finished. She caught him staring at her. He got down onto one knee and grabbed her by the hair, raising her head slightly off the ground. As he did so, he slid the blade across her neck, cutting her throat. She bled out within seconds. He nodded his head solemnly and gently let go of her hair. She looked peaceful. Her eyes were still sparkling as whatever life was left within her escaped into the ether, until there was nothing but blackness in her pupils.
The man got up. He tucked the knife away in his inside jacket pocket. This time, he noticed he’d managed to get his suit dirty. This wasn’t a clean kill. But it was a kill nonetheless. He took one last glance at his downed damsel in decease and turned to face his car. He had parked across the road, near one of her neighbor’s houses. He walked across the road briskly, ignoring the off chance that somebody could see him covered in blood. He got to his car and quickly got in. Firing up the engine, he took one last glance at his kill. A mesh of red and black infused in his skull at the sight of the carnage he had unleashed. There was still more to come. He was certain of that.
The killer drove off in his black sedan.
Stranger At The Door Available Now On Kindle & paperback!
More from this author
Main Book Series:
Nails In A Coffin
The Casual Killer
Plenty Of Pain
25th Of Dismember
Ice Cold Case
All F**KED UP
Stranger At The Door
No Pulse
Other Series:
Beacon Of Light: Season One
Das Death I
Das Death II
Standalone short stories:
Cobwebs
Death Roulette
