This wasn't supposed to happen. Not to her.
She was normal; this entire day had been absolutely ordinary. This couldn't be real, it just
had to be a dream.These were things that happened to unknown people living on unknown streets; not to average everyday people like her. People like her didn't get murdered in their homes by psychopaths, mangled bloody bodies of people like her didn't appear in papers, this couldn't have been happening to her.
She couldn't actually be lying in the pool of her own blood, next to the dining table- carefully adorned on which she had placed the groceries after she had walked Mirabelle, her neighbors black miniature poodle, the cheese crackers and cream rolls still stuffed inside the plain brown paper bags.
She couldn't actually be dying of pain, her ribs couldn't have been broken.
Yet she knew, more than anybody...that it was all
true. It was actually happening- to
her. An ordinary seventeen year old, living in an ordinary street next to ordinary neighbors.
She closed her eyes with a silly hope that it would lessen the pain. The rusty smell of her blood assailed her nose, little crimson drops trailed down from her forehead and seeped into her sunrise blond hair, turning it sunset red.
Again, the hopeless wish crossed her mind.
Let this be a dream. Let my alarm ring, Let me wake up.She turned her head to the right, tilting it slightly to look at her assailant - her soon-to-be murderer, sitting calmly on one of the pink plush sofas in the dim lit living room, adjoining the dining room. His face unclear, not a drop of blood on his crisp white shirt and dark jeans. he sat calmly, one leg crossed over the other, utterly relaxed.
After what seemed like hours, he got up, and walked towards her, still calm, composed, as though it were an everyday scenario for him.
Run. Her mind screamed. Foolishly, she writhed, trying in vain to haul herself, off the floor. the pain in her right foot incensed and she slumped back and looked down at her leg, where the hilt of the blue Faber Castel scissors was visible, bloodied purple;it's blade embedded deep into her skin,
He was standing right beside her now, she could see his brown moccasins beside her head, clean, like the rest of his apparel , she looked upwards, and for the first time saw his face.
She didn't recognize him, and that made her even more anxious, she didn't know him, why would he do this to her? She couldn't talk, breathing hurt a lot, she didn't want to imagine what talking would feel like. She searched for his eyes, to question him silently, to make him see the confusion in hers.
His eyes met hers and she froze.
Crimson.Deep crimson eyes stared down at her, some people might call it
reddish, she wouldn't.
Red was too ordinary a word for those eyes. It was like finally having to know the real meaning of the word. It was almost the color of the red liquid that covered her.
Crimson eyes laced with cold humor, mocking her silently at the state she was in.
Sadistic bastard!
Cruel eyes.
She would have said, if she didn't know any better. Cruel was an
understatement.She continued to survey him.
He wasn't conventionally handsome, attractive nonetheless, a shock of black untidy hair, arrogant nose, pale complexion...If she hadn't known better she would have had a crush on him.
He smiled, and bent down to grab the hilt of the scissors, his eyes never leaving hers, he grasped the hilt tightly and pulled it out.Slowly. Painfully. For a foolish, naive moment she thought he would save her now, probably regret what he did, but just for a moment.
When he pulled out a chair and sat down next to her, she realized, he was just going to let her die of blood loss. Great. Like she
needed the pain.
He sat there staring at her and she stared back.
Ironic. Such stuff is supposed to be romantic instead it was gory.
He sighed, shook his head and ran his hand through his jet black hair, turning it messier than it was before.
"Dawn" She shivered,
he knew her name."Do you remember me?" he asked. She wanted to ask him if he was sane, then thought better of it, of course he wasn't sane. He was sitting there asking her if she remembered him, point was, she didn't even know him.
He didn't wait for her reply, not that she could anyhow.
"You don't, do you?Well, it's too late now." He shrugged. He SHRUGGED, like it was just some everyday topic. She wanted to hurl at him, grab his collar and scream.W
hat did I
ever do to you!
Dawn shut her eyes again. Her head was swimming, her sight beginning to blur.
She heard him get up, and move away, after a minute or so, he came back and sat down next to her. She felt as of she were about to die. Somehow, the thought was comforting. Death at the moment, looked like a pleasurable escape, from the pain, from the psycho who thought he knew her.
She reopened his eyes and looked back at him, staring in to his eyes, then her gaze fell onto the gun in his hand.
Maybe he'll shoot me. She felt almost great full.
Then he buried his hand into his pocket and brought out a cell phone.
What's he gonna do now? Call his girlfriend and ask her out for a date tonight? Is he THAT crazy?As though he'd read her mind, he turned on the loudspeaker. It rang about 3 times and then a Woman's voice spoke. "911 emergencies, I have you at Victoria Street block - 14, How may I assist you?"
"I'm sorry to say so, but two people have been killed at the D'souza house, No. 8."
The woman put him on hold, after some time she came back on line, her voice had taken an edge.
"Sir, our officers are on their way to assist you. Can you give m,e some prior information on the victims?"
"Dawn D'souza, daughter of Natasha D'souza, only child, seventeen, was home alone tonight."
He turned to look at Dawn, her life ebbing away, slowly but surely, she was taking her last breath. He continued to stare at her, as her breathing turned shallow, her blood covered face turning pale.
"Sir, I think you mentioned 2 victims?"
He didn't reply, he continued to watch Dawn, the way her chest rose and she scrambled for air, how her clean white running shoes had turned red, soaking her blood as it gushed out from her ankle.
The way, even at the end, her eyes never left his. Cat green orbs, fixated on his Ruby ones. At that moment he lifted his gun-
"Sir? I'll need the information on the other victim."
-and placed it on his right temple. He watched silently as Dawn's eyes turned into nothing but glass orbs looking at him unseeingly, until, there was nothing, no more breaths, no more pants. Nothing. He turned his attention back at the woman on the phone.
"Sir, Who is the other victim?"
Taking one last look at that girl who had ruined his life, who didn't
remember him.
He said.
"I am"
Luciana
