Never Alone Version Two

I'm writing Never Alone, my first completed Movella, again as I want to make it even better. I might even send it to a publisher. Here goes...

After a young thrillseeker gets bored in the summer holidays, she comes up with a fun-sounding, if strictly illegal, boredom-buster. Break into, and take photos of, some celebrities homes. Will Smiths' place= Too easy. Casa de Jennifer Aniston= She could do it blindfolded. However, a dare from her best friend leaves her getting caught by the owner of Mansion Number 3. If that wasn't scary enough, the owner died when she was 12.

Now, 15-year-old Diana has a huge secret to hide, and an even bigger one to uncover. Both could leave her the same way as her ghostly companion.

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6. I'll Be Back, And He'll Be Sorry

 

I slowly opened my eyes, letting the world come into focus. My back was made up of torn iron bars, and I couldn't move my legs without the sheer agony of intense pins-and-needles shooting up them. My vision was blurry from having just woken up, so I couldn't quite tell where I was, or how I got there.

I slowly stood up, ignoring the protests from my legs and back, so I could take in what was going on. My head was full of grey cotton candy though, so it was hard to take anything in. Then, it hit me.

I had spent the night hunched up in the far corner of my room, too scared to move. Judging by the severely crumpled, cardboard cross nearby, I had been scared of something paranormal, yet solid enough to get hurt. That must explain the baseball bat that was nearby. Whatever it was, I must have been really scared.

"Don't be a wimp; you're a proud thrillseeker. Thrillseekers are never, ever scared. You were concerned for your safety, that's all." The encouraging part of me said, as I fumbled on the floor for the handmade cross. Something about it told me to check it, as something had been done to it. Don't ask me how I knew that, but I did.

I held it in my hand, noticing my crude drawing on one side. I'd attempted to make it into a crucifix, but I failed epically. After all, real crucifixes don't have Jesus shown as a stick-figure (I can't draw) or are made of cardboard. Absent-mindedly, I turned it over in my hand, not really paying attention to it, when I saw the back. Someone had written something on the back.

 "I need to talk to you. It's very important that you know the full story. Only you, have what it takes to do what is needed. I need you to come back tonight, and I will explain it all. Come alone, and never, ever, tell anyone that I exist. Or I will come and get you, like how they came and got me. That is a promise."

The glacier ran down my spine again, as I read the chilling message again and again. I'm not sure if it was the content that scared me most, or that the words had been burned into the cardboard. How could he have left the message for me without waking me up?

"He did wake you up, remember." The demoralising part hisses, as I remembered something happening in the night.

I had heard something, and woken up at about 4am. There was this dark shadow, which disappeared to reveal last-night's attacker. He saw me watching, I clutched the baseball bat in my hand, then he vanished. Not really quickly, more like he faded from view.

I had to fight back. If he thinks that he can just appear in my room, threaten me, then disappear as he pleases, then I'll just have to "tell" him otherwise. By "tell", I really mean, make him wish that he'd never died. Or kill him again, but that might not be possible.

Straightening out my sore legs, I brushed myself down, then remembered the dare. I took my camera, then prepared to meet Stacey and maintain my title of "Dare Champion".

 

"I can't believe you. You actually went and filmed the break in?" Stacey said, watching the video on my camera. It was just at the part when I'd found the ferris wheel was creaking and squeaking. It was a bit hard to see, as the glare of the sunlight was bouncing off the little screen. The sunlight was always bright up here; on the cliffs surrounding Malibu Beach.

"Bit weird though, how there was that clicking sound, and the door was unlocked. It's one of the most famous mansions in the US, and it wasn't secured." Stacey mentioned it, and it started to make sense.

The clicking sounded like someone unlocking the door, but from the inside. Did that mean that, someone knew I was coming? Was it all set up to lure me in? I guess I'll never know, as I'm never, ever, ever going back there again. It's too dangerous.

"I think your camera might be broken."

"What? Let me see that." I took a look at my camera and saw what part it was at. It was at the part when I was proving the curse wrong. Just after the third "is that scary?", the screen went staticky and the sound had been replaced by a loud whooshing, with the message "Error" flashing up on screen. Something has been messing with it, and I've got a pretty good idea why.

"Stace, do you believe in, well, the unexplained, like ghosts and all that?" I asked, as I'd like to see him try anything. I bet he wouldn't dare. I could hire out the Goodyear blimp and tell the whole of New York city that I was attacked by a ghost, and he wouldn't do a thing to me.

"Ghosts? Of course I don't believe in them. After all, there's no evidence. Why do you ask?" She replied, sounding confused.

"Oh, no reason. Just, saw something. Don't worry about it; probably just my imagination." I said, brushing it off. After all, I've told someone that ghosts exist, and nobody's come for me. Pure trash-talking, that's what he was doing. Trying to scare me, with his pathetic trash-talk, that he won't follow through with, because he hasn't got the nerve to kill m-

"I take it back!" I shrieked, jumping up from the fallen log me and Stacey were sitting on. He has come for me, and I am so dead right now. There is no way that I'll be able to get far enough away, in enough time.

"What are you on about?" Stacey asked, turning round. For a second, she was staring right at him, before she turned back. "There's nobody there." She added.

I backed away, grateful I had nothing on me. That meant I could be a lot faster. Only trouble was, he was blocking the path back down the clifftop. I pointed at him, my hand shaking dramatically, I couldn't believe he came all the way up here, to kill me.

"Don't come any closer to me, you hear. Not one step closer." I stammered. I had no idea what I was going to do if he did come closer though.

"Diana, this isn't funny. Stop it, please." Stacey said, standing up. At that moment, my attacker took several steps forward, right through, my best friend.

"What are you gonna do now?" He asked, looking me dead in my eyes. His were cold, emotionless, and full of malice.

"You idiot! This is the best dive-spot ever! You've tombstoned off this cliff more times than you could ever remember. He wouldn't follow you off a cliff, would he?" The encouraging part of me said, as I took a look over my shoulder at the cliff edge. It was about 5 feet away, enough for a run-up.

"I'm gonna do this." I replied, turning and sprinting up to the edge. Then I leapt off, letting the cold sea air whip past my body, drag my tank-top up to my neck and force my hair back. The sea below loomed closer and closer, startlingly bright blue, and such a familiar sight.

I curled my knees up to my chest, pushing out my arms out in front, so I was diving. The straight jump is good for speed, yet useless for deadening impact. Speaking of which, I would be hitting the ocean in about 3 seconds.

Hitting the ocean, the cold bitterly stabbed me all over. I was free though, with the cool water closed under my head. The world sounds different underwater, but I can't stay there too long. I kicked my feet behind me, as my head broke the surface with a deep gasp.

I kept my head high, grateful that he hadn't followed. Stacey was at the top of the cliff, looking down at me. She shouted something down at me, which sounded a lot like "What is wrong with you?" but I couldn't clearly hear.

Keeping myself afloat, I spotted the shore and began heading towards it. I had to pass a rocky outcrop on the way, but I know how to do it. Stay at least 3 feet away at all times. I'm a strong swimmer, so I was nearly there, and very far away from my attacker.

Passing the outcrop, I momentarily glanced at the jagged cliff-face, then willed my front crawl to be faster. How could he get from the top of a cliff, to the side of a freaking cliff watching me. If he jumps in after me, then I might as well just let myself die and save him the trouble.

I begged my arms to force me forward, before there was a loud splash, and I got a stream of salt water up my nose. He'd tried dragging me down, but I'm not having any of it. Forcing my eyes open, I got a glimpse of the bright sunlight through the water, and the strangely-concerned expression of my attacker. He had hold of me by my upper arms, as I tried dragging myself away. I am not drowning. I will never drown.

Pulling this pathetic piece of ectoplasm closer to me, I tensed my right quad, and forced my leg out in a firm kick. I'd got him square in the chest, forcing him off and away from me. This wasn't over though, as I caught hold of his left wrist. Driving myself forward, I forced it up his back in a wrist-lock. I forced him down, using him as a kick-off point to get to the surface. He was already dead, so I didn't need to feel bad for doing that. After all, he would have done it to me.

I broke the surface, then forced myself into a flat-out sprint. The cool water just inches above my head as I forced myself forward. I only stopped for breath, before carrying on. The shore was about 70 yards away, a manageable distance, when a strong hand closed around my ankle. Without thinking, I kicked out again, forcing myself free as my trainer connected with his shoulder. That should slow him down enough for me to get back to dry land.

I carried on with my strokes, refusing to stop even when I was gasping for air. There wasn't time to let myself draw breath, as getting far away as my new priority. I carried on, despite the burning pain in my chest, the dull ache in my joints, and the intense fear in my heart. I finally succumbed to the lack of oxygen, and thrust my head up above the surface, gulping in the sweet, fresh air. The shore was only a few yards away, so I forced myself forward until my trainer sunk into the loose sand under the water.

Leaving the ocean, I looked back at my pursuer, who was holding onto his shoulder. I'd left a very large dark patch on his silvery skin; the ghost equivalent of a bruise.

Good. I hope it hurts.

I walked across the sandy beach, dripping seawater along the way. My hair was soaked, and had somehow gotten a piece of seaweed tangled in it. I don't really care how I look, but it is very irritating.

"What the hell is wrong with you? First you ask if ghosts exist, then go all freaky over nothing standing behind me, jump off a freaking cliff, try to drown yourself, then just saunter casually up the beach as if nothing happened!" Stacey shouted, whacking me very hard on my shoulder. They already ache from all that swimming and two underwater fights, so that whack makes the pain nearly unbearable.

The absurdity of the situation, just becomes clear to me. I can't control the laughter that seems to come from nowhere. It always happens at the most innappropriate moments, like right now.

"I'm dead, can't you see that? I'm as good as dead! I made a ghost come after me, trying to kill me. He nearly drowned me, and I'm only safe when I go back to his mansion and let him rip my throat out! That's what's wrong with me!" I shrieked, still laughing. I couldn't stop myself, even though it wasn't even funny. It was probably the most innappropriate moment ever.

"Until you work out what's really wrong with you, don't come anywhere near me." Stacey said, walking off. I'd gone too far, so she had a right to storm off.

"Stacey, don't you understa-"

"I don't want to hear it. You've gone too far, and it's not funny. If you want your camera, here, just leave me the hell alone." She sent my camera skidding across the sands, before flouncing off. It was best if I left her to it, as I'm not putting her in any danger when she's arguing with me.

I will be going back to the mansion though, and he'd better be ready for it. I'll make him wish that he'd gone straight to Hell when he died.

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