Walk Fast

I don't know how I'm going to get home. Worse yet, I'm alone. And I need to avoid that person behind me...

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3. Three

I don't know how I'm going to get home. Worse yet, I'm alone. And I have to avoid that man behind me...

James, or Charles, I guess, is following me. I'm running towards my house as fast as I can. The problem is, he would have to be stupid to come alone. There must be others here. I'm still running as fast as I can, but I'm running out of breath. There's a stitch in my side. I'm slowing down.

I can see my house. I'm almost there. Maybe he won't catch me. And then, I just have to keep everything shut and locked until Mom and Dad get home. You see, they're out of town. They should be back tonight. 

Charles steps out from behind a tree. I skid to a stop and turn around, but they're all around me. There's nowhere for me to go. 

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to give out where you live?" he asks. 

"Y-yes." I stammer.

"Then you must simply be stupid." Charles muses. "Well, this is fun. I'm going to give you thirty seconds. Run. Get in the house. Lock the doors. Close the windows. Do whatever. But there are people around the house. That's the only place you can go. Time starts now. Walk fast."

I run down the street to my house. I know this is what he wants, but I can't help it. Some hope is better than none at all, right? 

As soon as I'm in the house I make sure every door and window is locked. Then I hurry into my bedroom and barricade the door and window shut with my furniture. And I have a lot of heavy furniture, so I should be good. 

I've just barely dived under the bed when I hear someone banging on both the front and back door, and every window in the house. As I cower and tremble with fear, I hear a window downstairs smash. Someone's in the house.

"Adelaide?" I hear Charles's rough, scratchy voice call my name. "I know where you are. A dresser won't keep me out." 

I stay silent, closing my eyes and praying that he'll just go away. No such luck.

The door to my bedroom opens as easily as if there was nothing there at all, and I see some thick, heavy, black rainboots walking closer to my bed. 

Charles grabs me by my hair and drags me out from under my bed. Lifting me off the ground, quite literally, by my hair, he holds me close to his face. I feel several hairs part ways with my scalp.

"You should have just come." he mutters. "Then I would've taken you alive. Maybe even returned you, eventually. But I'm flexible. I can take you dead."

The last thing I ever feel is a sharp pain in my stomach. The last thing I see is the glint of a sharp blade, and Charles's dirty, ugly face. And the last thing I ever hear is Charles's cruel laugh, and my own scream, before the world goes black, and I never see, feel, or hear again. 

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Okay, guys, here's the deal.

This story was completely fictional. Any relation it may have with real life is accidental. 

This story was written partly to write a spooky story, but also partly to raise awareness to something that happens to many teenagers. Not all get kidnapped. Not all get murdered. But many teenagers, both male and female, give out personal information online. Many even go to meet in real life the people they met online. This is an extremely dangerous thing to do. Don't give out personal information online, or it could lead to your kidnap or murder, or the kidnap or murder of someone you know and/or care about. 

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