The Quiet One

The doorbell rang it was obnoxiously early 9:00 but I hand not laid my head on my pillow until 3am so it was time to join the world.

He had a tool belt and easily explained he had to change the air conditioner filter.

I did not think much of it; I was so hung over from the night before.

As I turned to walk to the kitchen for the coffee that would relieve my headache.

I heard the lock click.

When I turned around, he was smiling.

“Hey prick tease do you remember me?”

My blood ran cold as I saw the knife in his hand.

“You were too pretty to dance with me last night”

I started to panic but remembered something I heard, if you humanize yourself they would not hurt you.

“Oh were you at Pacers last night, I was so drunk I’m sorry if I blew you off”

“Oh yeah bitch you would dance with all the pretty boys but not me well now you are going to dance with me”

He grabbed me by the wrist and turned me around heading to the bedroom.

Oh my God, I looked for an escape, a weapon anything that would change the trajectory of this story.

He threw me down on the bed.

I had a decision to make my life or my dignity.

As he mounted me, I saw the open sores on his back and felt the tears slide down my cheeks.

The whole time he told me what a whore I was and now maybe I would learn my lesson.

He left as quickly as he had come.

I was in shock, I took a shower and called in sick spending the day crying and nursing my wounds.

When my roommate came home I was calm but quiet deciding not to go clubbing with her or again.

A few weeks later, I saw his face on the news. I was not the only one. He would follow girls home come back the next day and take their souls. 

They caught him I felt my body relax for the first time since I had seen that tool belt.

I was not the brave one that helped in his capture; I was the quiet one that carried the scars.