Page 16 of The Silent Night Stalker
I was so close. So close to escaping.
Don’t do this to me.
Not now.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to wake up yet. Not before the drug took effect. I hadn’t had the chance to give it to him before he lunged at me. Everything was supposed to be calm and easy, to give him a pleasant transition. I thought I’d prepared for everything. What I hadn’t counted on was how quickly he was aware of me.
I finally managed to slip him the drug right after I squeezed his nuts, which hadn’t been easy, as he beat me and I tried to fight him off. Once he was cupping between his legs, I quickly injected him before trying to escape.
“Not like this…” I rasp.
God, he saw my face. He recognized me.
As much as I want to run, I have to go through with my plan; otherwise, he’ll turn me in. I can’t go to prison. I’ll die there. There’s no way I can be confined. I’ve been trapped my entire life… not again. Never again.
But I can’t kill. Not just to save my own skin.
Then, as the all-consuming anxiety takes hold of me, I grip my hair and fall to my knees next to him, next to my supposed angel.
I’m gasping for air as my past slams into me like a baseball bat to my head. I get lost in another violent night on Christmas Eve. The beating I’d just received brings me back ten years ago, to one of my worst days. No amount of fighting myself stops the flood, stops the horror as I relive that moment.
“God, please… no.”
Reliving my past in my head is nearly as bad as experiencing it the first time.
I’m sitting in bed, which is pressed against the dingy wall. I’ve shoved myself into the corner, holding my only pillow, trying to make myself as small as possible. But it’s useless. Steve will soon bust into my room and drag me downstairs for Christmas Eve dinner.
Dinner. What a joke. We’ll end up having what we always do. It will either be frozen chicken nuggets and fries, ramen, or a baloney-and-American-cheese sandwich. There’s never a turkey, a roast, or mashed potatoes along with vegetables. Steve hates vegetables.
I place the pillow over my head and ears to muffle Mariah Carey’s ‘All I Want for Christmas is You’ blaring downstairs. I hate it. Hate it! Its happy sweetness makes me want to throw up. It’s the worst song of all holiday songs. Acid rises in my throat, burning as it goes, so I swallow it back down, letting it settle like fire in my gut.
I want to leave this hell, but I’m still too young at seventeen with no money or a job. Steve, my stepfather, keeps me here with no one to turn to, not even my own mother. He helps keep her alcoholism going, so she’s drunk all the time. Too drunk to help me. Sometimes he gives her drugs. So, I’m trapped. No one is coming to save me. I have to suffer, like I always do. One day, he’s going to kill me. I just know it.
School is out for the holidays. I hate it there, too. But at least I’m free from Steve for several hours a day. I don’t have friends to hang out with or teachers I can talk to. If the neighbors know what’s going on, they ignore it. I’m not sure anyone even knows I exist except for the few bullies who like to torment me. Steve practically keeps me prisoner in my body and mind.
Despite the Christmas music blasting, I can hear his heavy footsteps on the old wooden stairs, creaking and pounding under his dense weight. He’s intentionally trying to spook me, and it works. It makes my heart drum in my ears, and my palms start to sweat.
He’s coming.
The beast.
The monster.
A monster who doesn’t live under my bed, but in my house and in my soul. He’s all around me and doesn’t hide only in the darkness. Light doesn’t make him afraid.
Soon, my body starts trembling as he reaches my locked door and rattles it. I’m not supposed to lock it. Not ever. It’s his house. What he says goes.
Tears spill down my face because I know I’m in more trouble than usual. He’ll get in because he always does. But I can’t deal tonight. Not tonight. I fucking hate Christmas. It’s evil and cruel. It hurts. It’s not only the pain he gives me or the horrible gifts. But everyone else finds happiness this time of year? People generally love Christmas.But the holiday is my personal hell.
I close my eyes and beg to be delivered to God. To take me away from this nightmare. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve prayed for help. No one ever comes. Sometimes I want to die, but that scares me, too. I can’t do it myself. I’ve tried, but I always stop. Why can’t there be someone to save me? To take me away or just end me.
Sometimes I even pray Steve will kill me. Just get it over with so my suffering will end. It’s been years and years. I’ve lost count.
My heart leaps out of my throat when he kicks the door open, which slams against the wall. The doorknob punches a hole through the drywall. He’ll punish me for that, too.
Instead of rushing at me like he did last year, he stands there calmly in his sagging jeans, his swollen gut hanging over the waistband, with his stained white T-shirt stretching over it.
His dark brown hair is curly and shines in the bedroom lighting from all the grease. He’s always gross, like he rarely bathes. And he smells, too. Unlike me, he’s tall, broad, and overweight.
