The creak of the floor is what woke me up. It took me a moment to get my bearing, but when I did, I quickly honed in on the sound I had heard. Now that I was fully awake, I could definitely hear movement downstairs.
I got out of bed as quickly and silently as I could, and slowly made my way towards the sound.
Whoever was in the house was still downstairs. It didn’t seem like they were in a hurry and I didn’t hear any sounds of objects being moved around, so maybe the robber was still deciding what to steal.
Once I was downstairs, I heard some movement coming from the kitchen.
I pushed myself against the wall and peeked around the corner to see who had broken into my house.
To my surprise, I found a guy dressed in a black hoodie casually drinking milk straight from the carton.
He didn’t seem to notice me, so I took my time studying him. I looked for any sign of a weapon and studied his dimensions to determine if I could take him.
I was kicking myself internally for not having called the police before I even walked downstairs. Now if I try to call, the guy would for sure discover me.
I decided the best time to try to tackle him would be when while he was still drinking. I figured he’d be both distracted by drinking the milk and having only one hand free.
He turned to study the cabinets, still moving casually and holding the jug of milk at his side.
When he lifted the jug to take another drink, I sprinted in and tackled him.
He was taken completely by surprise and gave no resistance as I tackled him to the ground, keeping my full weight on him.
Unfortunately, I was only able to pin him down for a few seconds before he was able to wiggle free and push me off.
As soon as he stood up, he pulled out a knife and smiled.
By the look in his eyes, I could tell this wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone.
I backed up as he continued to approach me. As I continued to walk backward, I remembered that I had a vase sitting on a small table around the corner and I knew he couldn’t see it yet.
Once I was within reach of it, I looked passed the intruder, acting as if I was looking at something important behind him.
He only glanced for a second, but it was enough for me to grab the vase and attack him with it.
Instead of going for the head first, I struck his hand that was holding the knife, causing it to go sliding across the floor. I then reversed direction and struck him across the head, sending him reeling into the wall and causing a large gash to appear on his head.
I went to pounce on him, but even with a completely bloodied face, he was able to catch me as I went to slam against him, and he shoved me back hard.
Lucky for me, I fell in the direction of the knife.
I barely had time to grab it and turn around before the intruder lunged at me. Instinctively, I put the knife between us with the blade pointing toward him.
My hands felt trapped as his entire weight pinned me down.
I heard him groan and I could feel the warmth of his blood seeping through my shirt around my stomach.
He moved around a little as the life faded from him, but it was enough for me to rock him off me.
Looking in a nearby mirror, I stood in horror as I saw my shirt stained with his blood.
After my adrenaline and fear subsided, I quickly did what I wish I had done in the first place. I grabbed my cell phone and called the police.
The police arrived in under ten minutes.
They took my statement, then asked, “Where’s the knife?”
I looked around, wondering myself where it had went.
“That’s weird,” I said and started to search around the room, but it was nowhere to be seen.
The two policemen did their own search and not finding it, decided to chalk it up as lost.
“Well,” one of them started. “If you find it, please touch it as little as possible, put it in a bag and drop it off at the station.
‘They think I hid it to keep it,’ I thought.
I escorted them out, grabbed a drink, and headed upstairs to stare at the ceiling in the comfort of my own bed.
I dropped my drink when I entered my bedroom and immediately saw the bloody knife sitting on my nightstand.
I went to grab it and put in a bag, but when I picked it up, I lost the desire to get rid of it.
‘That’s strange,’ I thought.
Just wanting this night to be over, I left a message for my boss telling him what happened and letting him known I was taking the next day off. I took some sleeping pills and within an hour I was asleep.
The next day I woke up, sat in bed, and stared at the knife. It felt like it was calling out to me.
All of a sudden, crazy images started to flash in my mind. Images of death. Images of people being killed. By me.
I felt like I was in a waking nightmare, but instead of being scared, I felt a sense of exhilaration.
It wasn’t long before I gave into it and started to actually enjoy the images that were flashing before my eyes.
I closed my eyes and went with the flow of the images that were flashing in my mind.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself holding the knife.
I quickly dropped it on the floor and for an instant I was repulsed at how I was feeling, but when I went to grab the knife to finally put it in a bag, the images immediately came back along with the feeling of elation I had felt before.
Not wanting to go down that rabbit hole, I put the knife in my nightstand drawer until I could get enough nerve to put it in a bag.
I went throughout the day trying my hardest not to think about the knife, but the harder I tried, the more difficult it proved to be.
Finally, the day was coming to an end and I just knew by the next morning I’d be able to get rid of it.
I went to bed with the sole intention of returning to my normal routines when I woke up.
Instead, I woke up an hour later to find myself wearing the only black hoodie I had and holding the knife.
I felt like I was just a spectator as I got up, walked down the stairs, and out the front door.
It was like I was in a dream as I got in my car and drove around aimlessly.
Then I saw her.
It looked like she had just gotten home from the grocery store and work. She was dressed nice and carrying a bag of groceries.
As I watched her walk into her house, it felt like I had done this before. I knew what to look for. Entryways, other cars parked in the driveway, lights up and down the street, anybody walking around, and other clues of how to get in that house unnoticed.
Somehow, I knew not to stay parked there too long, so I drove off and wandered around some more.
A few hours later, I returned to the street where the house was, and parked.
Not seeing anyone, I got out and quickly walked up the street to the house.
Without missing a beat, I turned up her driveway, walking around the house to her back door.
I don’t know how I knew to check, but I scanned the inside of the doorframe to see if there were any sensors.
Not seeing any and being as quiet as I could, I broke the glass nearest the door handle and opened the door.
I was surprised not to hear alarms going off or screaming from any of the other rooms.
For some reason, this felt natural and as I walked around the first floor of the house, I felt relaxed, like I belonged there.
I casually walked around the first floor and when I was ready, I made my way up the stairs to where I knew she must be sleeping.
The door didn’t make a sound as I opened it, and her breathing didn’t change as I stood over her bed, watching her sleep.
Enjoying the moment, I knelt down somehow knowing what was about to happen.
She instantly awoke when my hand covered her mouth, and as she struggled, I slowly drove the blade into her abdomen.
I was both excited and sick with myself as I saw the surprise, pain, and fear reflected in her eyes.
She made no sound loud enough for anyone to hear as I took my time to finish her off.
Afterwards, I stood over her and reveled in what I had done.
The next morning, I woke up, ran to the bathroom, and threw up.
All the feelings of regret at what I had done came rushing in.
Even though I felt enormous regret at what happened, I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the knife. It stayed in my nightstand drawer like a precious ring and collected dust as I went about my normal life.
I refused to turn on the television fearing that what I had done would be the main story.
It was over a month, before I once again found myself waking up wearing the same black hoody and holding the knife.
Each time it happened over the next couple of years it got easier. I never felt less guilty between killings, but every time I touched the knife, I couldn’t let it go.
Many times, I wanted to tell someone. Once I even parked in front of the police station, ready to turn myself in, but each time I stopped myself.
I knew they would never believe me. How could I even start to explain what I’d done.
‘I’d be put to death for sure,’ I thought.
I entered the house of my next victim, just as silently as I had all the others.
Like a cocky ninja, I moved around the house admiring the different decorations the woman had.
I had been in so many houses, that over time I started to enjoy being in each one before the kill.
If I was going to be this monster whether I wanted to or not, I was going to enjoy myself as much as possible.
When I turned around from looking at a painting on the wall, I found myself staring at the woman pointing a gun at me.
For some reason, I wasn’t afraid.
Still savoring the moment and feeling confident that I was going to move to the side to avoid the barrel, I slid out my knife to let her see it before I killed her.
Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger, and my world went black.
Sarah stood over my body, kicking it to ensure I was dead.
Satisfied that I was no longer a threat, she lowered her gun, pulled out her phone, and called the police.
The police questioned her as she sat on the couch taking a drink of wine from time to time. The gun remained on the coffee table, but they all knew they would have to take it for evidence.
“Where’s the knife?” one of the officers asked.
Confused, she looked around. All three of them searched the entire first floor but never found it.
It was early morning before they had asked her all the questions they wanted to, removed the body, and drove off.
She watched as they all left the crime scene, leaving her alone.
Relieved that it was all over, she refilled her glass, and went upstairs to salvage what was left of the day.
The shattering of her wine glass broke the silence of the whole house as she saw that the knife that belonged to the intruder laid on her nightstand, seemingly calling to her.
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Published on February 08, 2021 05:54
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