Dayle ran to the phone in the kitchen. She had to call for help. She needed to get the police here as quickly as possible. Hopefully they would get her and be able to help Maria. If she were still alive.

Oh God, please let Maria be OK, she thought as she reached the phone. Hands trembling uncontrollably she grabbed the phone from its resting place on the wall.

From the living room, she heard the door knob jiggle.

Oh no! She tried to dial.



She jumped at the sound coming from the door. He was trying to get in! She looked at door, relieved for a second to find that there wasn’t a madman standing there, leering at her. The door had held.

It wouldn’t stand up to another blow. She could see the door jamb was cracked, almost all the way through.

She had two choices: finish dialing 911 and hope someone arrived to find her body, or hide. She couldn’t do both. The cord on the phone wasn’t very long.

Dayle dove behind the kitchen island just as….


From her spot behind the counter, she knew the door was open, even before she heard it swing and hit the wall next to it.

He was inside.

Dayle prayed that the telephone handset swaying slowly back and forth at the end of its cord didn’t give away her location.

Sitting on the cold linoleum floor, her back to a cabinet door, and tears of fear pouring down her face, she realized that there was no place she could go.

She held her breath and listened. She could just barely hear the sound of his feet against the carpet.

She closed her eyes as she listened closely, visualizing where he was in the living room.

The carpet scuffing sounds moved toward the hallway, stopping for a second. Then she heard them coming back toward her again.

Her heart was beating so hard, she wondered for a second if he could hear it.

The scuffing moved away again, this time toward the front door.

What was he doing?

The front door opened. Then slammed shut. Then…silence.

Dayle dared not move. She sat there in silence wondering what was going on. There was no way, that man had just come into her home, looked around quickly and left. Especially after having kicked in the door. Something wasn’t right.

She sat there and listened a bit longer, still there was no sound. She listened even harder, and yet, still couldn’t hear the scuffing sound of his feet against the carpet.

She hoped Maria was alright.


She realized, with a start that she had to check on her. She had no idea whether Maria was alive or not. She absolutely had to get up. She’d have to call finish her call to 911, and then go out to the garage and see if her worst fears were true.

She moved to get up. Her legs rebelled. They were frozen. She couldn’t move them. Some part of her told her not to move. But she knew she couldn’t stay there forever. Gradually her mind regained control of her body. She willed her legs move.

Slowly, she moved to stand up, gripping the top of the counter as she pulled herself upward. She’d just take a peak over the counter first to make sure that everything was clear.

It wasn’t.

She found herself looking directly into the barrel of a small revolver. One chamber sat empty, it’s cargo having already been fired into her friend. Beyond it, a man stood, grinning at her, his rotten teeth bared.

“Peekaboo. I see you,” he said in a sing-song voice.

He pulled the trigger.

The bullet entered her brain just after her final thought.



This was fun.

He stood at the kitchen island counter, looking over it at the lifeless body now sitting on the floor. It sat propped against the opposite cabinet. A look of surprise was still frozen on her face. Her eyes were still locked onto his, almost as if she were still pleading for her life.

A grin spread across his face. It didn’t last long.

He heard a noise.

It came from the garage. He knew that sound because he had just heard it a few moments ago.

He turned and moved, gun poised, to what remained of the door to the garage.

Sure enough, the automatic garage door was halfway up. He arrived just in time to see a figure duck under the door and run.



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