She tiptoed through the house as quietly and swiftly as she could, ducking under the windows and avoiding the weak spots on the floor to avoid being seen or heard. She feverishly dialed 911 on her cell phone, whispering the information in a barely audible tone to the operator on the other end, trusting that they'd track her phone if she could stay connected long enough, regardless of if she stayed silent or screamed.
"911, what's your emergency?"
"I think there's someone in my house. I need police, and an ambulance, please. I'm bleeding."
"Where are you bleeding from? And are you sure someone's in the house? Is there any way to look while you hide yourself? Lock a door?"
"I could go to the bathroom...and lock both doors..."
"A good idea, miss. Stay calm, and I'll stay with you until the police get there. Is the door unlocked?"
"No, the damn door isn't unlocked! I'm trying to keep him out!"
"Who, miss?"
"Whoever the hell's followed me into my house!"
She tiptoed silently into the bathroom, panting heavily against the phone that was pressed to her face. Clinging to the door as she closed it, she thought she caught a metallic smell coming from the bathtub. Thinking it might be rust, she opened the shower door slowly. Moments later she let out a blood-curdling scream, dropping the phone and therefore losing her connection with the babbling 911 operator.
In her bathtub lay the remains of a man she didn't know. The amount of blood in her bathtub was a sign that he was either bagged up and placed there, blood and all, or killed in there. His head was missing, and his torso was completely eviscerated, a brutal torture that was carried out while the poor man was still alive. She stared with hollow terror at the tiny streams of crimson that were running down his skin, only to meet the ever growing pool of it in the bottom of her tub. Whimpering like a frightened puppy, she grabbed her cell phone and bolted into the other section of the bathroom, locking the door and hiding behind the toilet, wondering how much effort it'd take to shove the screen out of the window and run. Her cell phone rang, and without even checking the caller ID, she picked up, thinking it'd be the operator again. Where the hell were the police?
".....Hello?"
"I see you found my present."
".....Who the hell are you? What do you want? Name it, but please, don't...."
"Kill you? My darling, no. I don't wish to kill you. Make a trophy of you, maybe, but never kill you. It'd be a sad waste of such pretty potential."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You're far too tender and pure to kill. We need to remedy that. But don't worry. I'm gentle."
Panicking, she slammed her cell phone shut and checked the caller ID, jaw dropping in shock.
"I'm in your house, Belfast! Let's see how fast you can run!"
Scrambling, she stood up to the window, clawing at the lock. Tears were streaming down her face as she heard the door crash open and feel a hand around her face as she was pulled back.
Kicking and biting, she sat bolt upright in bed.
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