Chapter 3 - Might be finish might be not. Could be revised in the future.

Chapter 3

When I left
the hospital it was around lunchtime. I haven’t got the stomach to eat so I
decided to skip lunch. I decided to go back to the scene of the crime to check
for more clues on the murderer. When I arrived there the scene was empty. Once
again I scanned around for pedestrians before I tried to open the door to the
house. Locked, typical. I walked around to the back of the house and found a
window. I opened it and climbed into the house. Inside the house the sight was
surprisingly normal just like every other house. I started to make my way
through the house. I went upstairs and opened the drawers trying to get as much
information as I can. This time I’ve put everything back and drew a mental
image of my head where everything how and was before I touched it to prevent
another near accident.

After
searching the second floor my next destination was the basement. Unfortunately
I heard footsteps stomping up the stairs. My heart raced and I leaned against
the wall in the room across the stairs trying to conceal myself. The last step
was taken and I could hear heavy gasping and a thump.

“Help!” A
raspy voice called out from the stairs.

It sounded
like a girl’s! Did the same murderer catch another victim? I peeked out the
door and I saw a girl lying at the top of the stairs. Just from looking at her
I could tell she didn’t have enough strength to lift herself up. Her hair was a
mess, her clothes were dirtied to the point where they could be called rags; her
tee shirt was torn a bit but her jeans just had patches of dirt. I walked out
of the room and over to her.

“It’s going
to be okay. I’ll get you out of here.” I assured her. I got back up and went to
another room and found a zipped sweater. I came back out and gave it to her.
“Wear this. It’ll conceal that shirt of yours.” I said handing her the sweater.
She put it on and I put her arm over my shoulder and brought her back to my
house.

Back at my
house I gave her food and water and she had the energy to shower. I let her
borrow some of Alana’s clothes; I don’t think she’d mind. Mother isn’t home yet
because she’s still at the hospital tending to Alana. When the girl came
downstairs after her shower I was absolutely astonished; she was simply
beautiful. She had long silky dark hair with a pretty face. Her eyes reflected
black pearls and her lips had a luscious cherry red color to it. She looked
healthier than before.

“Thank you
for saving me back there.” She said in a soft tone. “You have a nice house.”
She walked over and sat next to me on the couch.

“How did
you end up in the house the first place? Did you remember how he looks?” I
asked staring at the coffee table.

“He
snatched me from the streets. I was going home from school and he just came up
behind me. I felt something on my neck and the next thing I knew I woke up in
his basement. And I couldn’t catch a glimpse of him. When he kidnapped me he
came up behind me and his basement didn’t let a single spec of light through.
He was the only one who was able to see anything down there.”

“Basement?”

“That’s
where he keeps all his kidnapped victims. He just tosses us to the basement and
locks us up. Then when he feels like it he would drag one of us out and ****
us.”

“How did
you get out then?”

“He left
the door unlocked. He didn’t think I would have enough strength to crawl up the
stairs without passing out. I was glad you showed up when you did. I swear I
was going to pass out and die right at the spot due to thirst. I was trying to
crawl outside but I heard footsteps upstairs.”

“And you
knew it wasn’t him because?”

“Because he
would stomp. Every step he took the ground shook like an earthquake just hit
us.”

“Hold on,
let’s get back to topic. You said when he kidnapped women he would throw them
into the basement. That means there are more victims?”

“I was the
last one left. The remaining ones were taken out and slaughtered.”

“Damn it so
those were where the bodies came from. Wait a minute, the cops took a whole
scan in the house and searched every room. How come they didn’t find the
basement?”

“He threw
me into a hidden room that time. The doors were sound proof so no one could
hear me even if I screamed at the top of my lungs.”

If he threw
her around she must have fought back. If she fought back and managed to get a
small piece of his skin in her nails then I could use that and try to indentify
who’s behind this. I turned and looked at her fingers. Damn it she had already
washed them. I turned to her. “You fought back correct?”

“Yes, I
did.”
“And did you manage to scratch
him and draw blood?”

“I did.”

“Alright
we’re going back to the house.”

“What,
why?!”

“I need an escort in that pit hole and you know that place
better than me. Plus if we find a fingernail, piece of skin, anything from him,
we can identify the murderer. Let’s go! There’s no time to lose! Oh, right I
need your name.”

“My name’s
Allyson.”

“My name’s
Connor.”

After that
short introduction I searched the house for a pair of flashlights. I gave one
to her and we were on our way back to that house. That house has become a
primary area for both me and the authorities to search. Unfortunately the
authorities, being as lazy as they are, did a half search and moved on. There
was one thing that was bothering me though. How did Allyson act so calm towards
this situation? She’s been a kidnapped victim and almost a **** victim and
she’s acting it was all a minor incident. We had to take the bus for the two
miles and there was an awkward silence until it was abruptly ended.

“So how old
are you?” Allyson asked staring out the window.

“Seventeen.
I’m a senior in high school.” I replied. “I’m graduating on the 21^st.”

“Me too! So
that’s Monday correct?”

“Correct.
Humor me Allyson, why do you feel so easy to talk about this situation?”

“About
what?”

“The serial
killer.” My voice lowered at the point I said that so others won’t be able to
hear me. “Most people who’ve been through what you’ve been through get thrown
into post traumatic stress and paranoia. They then spend a couple of years in
therapy. You seem to shake this situation off like it was nothing.”

“Just
because I don’t let this situation throw me in an emotional state it doesn’t
mean I’m not scarred. You have some nerve to say that about someone. Where did
you find the audacity to accuse me of become unaffected by this? You’re
unbelievable!” She shouted. At the next stop she stormed off the bus leaving
the lingering eyes of curiosity clinging on me. I’m not sure if I should go
after that human. I’d rather not. I have more important issues to focus on.

When the
bus arrived at my stop I walked off and started in the direction towards the
house. When I arrived I saw a man dressed in a gray sweatshirt and jeans. It’s
in the middle of June and he’s wearing a sweatshirt. I carefully observed him
more. He seemed to be examining the area, pacing left and right, back and
fourth. I set my flashlight on the floor beside a bush and decided to approach
him.

“Excuse me
sir.” I said tapping his shoulder.

When he turned
he had a hideous scar on his face. Half of his face looked like it has been
burned to scalding heat. He looked around his late forties and it was clear to
tell he was an Arcanian that survived the mass genocide. This is it. He was the
one that hurt Alana. He was the one that killed all those innocent women. Now
he must pay his debt but I have to play my game wisely. I can’t risk a wrong
move. I have to get him to confess, somehow.

However
instead of greeting me as a normal person or Arcanian would do he simply
snatched me by the throat. At that point I knew my air supply was getting cut
off faster than usual. I could feel the inside of my throat tearing apart. I
could feel the blood exploding out of my veins inside my throat. He was the man
that caused the internal bleedings and the death of all those people and now
he’s trying the same method on me. After half a minute I’m surprised I wasn’t
dead or passed out. The pain is ripping through me and I could hardly stand. He
finally released his grasp and I watched him walk away.

I pummeled
to the floor and grabbed my throat. I kneeled there, hands on my throat and
coughing up blood. I feel as if I’ve just been slit and it’s the end of
daylight. I closed my eyes to accept my fate.