Apprehension

Apprehension

A Story by Andrew Pemberton
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Mia is a 17 year old senior in a small town in North Carolina. On her walks home from school, she noticed some suspicious things going on...

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Fall is a mysterious time of the year. Such beauty achieved only by the sacrifice of the leaves, giving their life up merely to the force of time. On this day, as temperatures rested on the chilling line of 67 degrees Fahrenheit, the orange and yellow leaves scrape along the sidewalk as they freely ride the cool wind that weeps through my small town of Drawling, North Carolina. I love the chilly weather. I can walk freely in whatever clothes I please. On this day, I'm walking home from school. 

"Ew. School," I think to myself. 

School is the bane of my existence; always interfering with my plans and moods. No matter though, the day's over and it's only 2:17. "Senior year has just begun. I'm only seventeen, yet I share the dread of a menopausal woman who's been a gas station clerk for 30 years when it comes to thinking about school or work," I mutter under my breath. "Just one more year."
The weather is so beautiful that I decide to kick off my shoes and walk the rest barefoot. As I slip off my Toms, I notice that my black nail polish has chipped on my right big toe. I put my shoes in my book-bag, getting the cold dirt on my black and white composition notebook. "Mia Stanford: Marine Bio," reads my notebook in my round, bold handwriting. I wipe it off and continue my journey home. 
There's an unusual feeling in the air. I can't place it, but something is wrong. I have an uneasy feeling of despicable knots in my stomach. Slowly, a tattered white van drives past. Duct taped back windows, dirty tires, and a man with long hair and a devilish grin in the drivers seat--staring at me, looking at my black toes nail covered in the cool autumn dirt, scanning his way up to my tied-up black hair. My body is in a state of paralysis as I feel the umbrella of fear cast it's shadow over me. I feel my bare feet frozen into the cold dirt and leaves and ants scurry their way around my toes and ankles. And then he drove off. What took 10 seconds seemed to last 10 hours. 

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Days went by with similar occurrences. Sometimes the man would be stopped at the stop sign, but sometimes he wouldn't even look at me. Suddenly, I hatched an idea: I'd walk to the police station after school. Then he'll know I mean business. 
It's Wednesday afternoon and I'm ready to begin my plan. As I start walking north instead of south, I feel confident. Surprisingly, I dont see the van. But what I do see is even more startling. I see my stalker eying me maliciously from across the street.  
At this point I'm running for my life. Running to escape at all costs. As I turn around, I see that he's chasing me. As I weave through the streets, I notice that I'm now in a cul-de-sac. I instantly act on my first instinct--run to the nearest house possible and bang on the door. And I did just that. I banged and screamed until it just turned black and I entered a land of nothing. 

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I woke up to a throbbing headache, and to pure claustrophobia. I had no clue where I was, but I could feel my bondage holding my arms to my back, and my feet together. But what frightened me the most was the sack on my head. I quickly gather that I'm in the back of the filthy white van. There's blood on the back of my neck from when the man hit me.

"Where am I? Hello?" I manage to shutter out.
"Shut up," the man screams at me. "Nobody can hear you." 
"Where are we going?"
"I'm going to take you to a happy place. A place that thirsts for blood of the innocent. And you, my dear, are as innocent as they come. You are the perfect outlet for my pleasure."
I'm terrified. I don't know what to do. I'm trying to fight the thoughts that this is the end. I want to keep calm, maybe that'll be the key to finding a way out of all this. 

Suddenly, the car came to an abrupt stop. 

The man got out and staggered his way to the back doors of the van, carving a blade along the side of the vehicle, letting me know just how close he is to me. Paralysis, fear, despair--all feelings that are swarming through my innards, tearing me apart. The doors rip open, and he drags me out of the trunk, right onto the ground. He rips off my mask. His eyes are bloodshot and he emits a strong scent of beer. His hair is long, black, and greasy. From behind me I feel a cold, sharp metal pressed on my neck. 

"It ends here, dollface," he whispers moistly into my ear, licking my cheek. 

I've accepted death.
But just as he was about to end it, he refrains, pulls back his knife, and plops to the floor crying. Minutes passed as I lie on the cold ground tied up. My cheek against the cold concrete of this abandoned parking garage, the long knife peering at me. I must've been knocked out a long time, because the crickets are chirping and it's much colder. In fact, it's too cold. I manage to look down--my clothes are torn and ripped--intentionally. Disgusting pig. But as I lie there listening to this man, my killer, weep, I joined him. In a two part harmony of tears and sorrow, I forgot where I was. I just wanted to be in my mother's arms while my father put this man in his place, but I lie here helpless. Soon, I've felt like we've been crying for hours. 
"Aren't you going to get it over with? Put me out of this pain?" 
"Fool. You don't know pain," the man began to angrily say. "Pain is when you wake up everyday to the same s****y life. If you can even call it a life... Every day I wake up with lust on my mind... my selfish lusts and desires. Nobody wants me. I've found one thing out in this life... IF YOU WANT SOMETHING YOU MUST TAKE IT. And if that doesn't work then you must destroy it... And that is you. That is her, and every other who's been too good for me." He started weeping again and punching the ground. He rips off a ring from his left ring finger... Maybe a wedding band? He tosses it across the parking lot. "WHY'D YOU HAVE TO GO, SHANNON?" He weeps and picks up the massive hunting knife. Stroking the blade, he carves a ring around his finger, disregarding the copious amounts of blood trickling down his wrist. I can only watch. "You little b***h... You don't know what it's like to sheath the blade of emotion into the case of a man's pride." 
As he spoke, I managed to wiggle one arm through... Thinking fast to cover myself, I decide the best course of action would be to empathize him. "You're right, I don't know the pain." His teary cheeks turn in my direction. In his eyes I can read the years of pain and crime. This man has seen many things, and has never been happy. "I don't know who this Shannon is, but she must've been very dear to you... I'm sorry she had to leave, but there are others out there for you... This is no way to-" 
"QUIET!" He roars at me, knocking me back a step. "You do not speak her name. You don't have permission... No one has permission. This isn't worth it anymore." He stands up and walks to the driver's door. After squirming my arm free a little more--BANG. The sound echoes throughout the cold, grey garage. Then I heard his body hit the floor and a dead, sickening plop. He ended it all.
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After recovering from my shell-shock and successfully keeping a clear mind, I scope out my surroundings. Behind me lies a growing puddle of blood, with my deceased captor in the center, slowly making his decent into the depths of hell. As I scan more and more I see my freedom: the knife. Using my free hand, I drag myself to it, little by little. Slowly, but surely, I grab the blade, the man's blood still warm on it's tip.
I start sawing at my ties, securing my freedom. One by one I cut my shoulder tie, neck tie, waist tie, knee tie, and as I started to tear the final bonds that kept my feet together, with freedom on my tongue, I woke up. 
I woke up from this terrible dream. "Just a dream..." I thought to myself, relieved. But as I became conscious, I realized something: I couldn't move. I couldn't see. I was in the back of the white van, all tied up, going who-knows-where.

© 2014 Andrew Pemberton


Author's Note

Andrew Pemberton
Ignore the format of how I laid it out, I feel like it's incorrect on things like where I placed dialogue (indented).

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Reviews

Ha! Very nice twist on the ending! I have to admit, I really confused about the character of the killer. He smiled at her from the van, but then seemed like just a broken man when he was about to kill her... Makes sense that it was a dream now :)

My only advice to improve this would be to add more emotion to the second part, where the killer starts chasing her. You had consistently revealed the main character's thoughts up until that point, so I'd like to know what she's feeling when she sees him standing there.

Really cool piece! Good job!

Posted 9 Years Ago



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Added on June 25, 2014
Last Updated on June 25, 2014
Tags: horror, abduction, teenagers

Author

Andrew Pemberton
Andrew Pemberton

Palm Coast, FL



About
I'm Andrew, a 17 year old senior in a small city in northeastern Florida. I have much to learn when it comes to writing, and I'm ready to learn it. I play guitar and bass in a variety of styles. Music.. more..