Rain runs down the window as she sits down to eat. I can see the ice in her glass slowly melting. Softening the bitter tang of her white wine. Her back is to me, as it always is, as I observe her. Her television shows a classic scary movie scene, the killer claiming his first victim.
When you watch a horror film, you feel the fear of the characters you have got to know, and are saddened by their impending demise. You wish there was something you could do.
Or perhaps you watch in exhilaration as I do. Longing to feel the surge of power that must go through the body as you take another’s life.
I wonder now, as I watch her, if I can hold back. Can I wait another second to feel the satisfaction I have hunted for so long? To feel her skin beneath my hands. To feel her desperation as she tries to fight me off. Just a few more minutes. As soon as Halloween is upon us, I will feel the same exhilaration as the monster in her favourite movie.
I have always loved autumn. The cool breeze and the reddening leaves fill me with a sense of calm. Snuggled up alone in my flat, I am wrapped in a knitted red throw, which is what Halloween has become now that I am no longer a teenager. My celebrations begin the night before by watching Sidney and her friends fight off the mystery man in the mask.
I never understood how someone could be killed by a stranger. A locked door and a low profile would have saved all their lives. If only they had stayed inside with a glass of wine and watched their favourite movie—then they would be safe.
I think this as I watch them fight the stranger, pressing a hand to the wound on their body, which is spurting blood, now that the killer has made his first attack. The thought makes me shiver , imagining a cold metal blade forced into my stomach. How it might feel as I bleed out. . Would I even be aware of it, or would my body protect me from the pain? Pumping adrenaline through me to help me survive.
Luckily things like this only occur in movies. It is all for entertainment; it’s not something which happens to real people.
The clock resting on the table by the door changes, now showing a neat row of four zeros. The apartment remains silent, the only light coming from the television as the film continues to play. A sense of anticipation fills the room as the TV becomes silent. The climax of the movie has begun. The viewer can see the killer, but his victim is unaware.
This suspense is reflected as the man enters the apartment without the attention of the owner. She remains wrapped up in her blanket staring intently at the screen before her.
The door clicks shut, which catches the attention of the young woman. She freezes for a moment, hoping she imagined the sound. She stands slowly, preparing herself for what she might see. She hesitates for too long. The option to run is no longer available, and the man rushes towards her. Seizing her shoulders and pushing her with enough force for her to lose balance. Trying to steady herself, her hand catches the rim of her wine glass. It smashes on the floorboards alongside the woman as she hits the ground.
Within a second her attacker is upon her. Straddling her middle, each leg secures her arms to the floor. Giving her no choice but to kick her legs frantically hoping to cause damage. . Anything to give herself more time to escape her fate. But there is no hope. The man is bigger than her and ready to act. He raises his hand slowly with clear intent. His cold hand trails the length of her face.
Taking his time as he feels the warmth emanating from her skin, he speaks in just a whisper. Leans closer to her than before. ‘I almost wish I could keep you.’
The woman goes still, perhaps only now understanding what he means to do. A smile grows on his face as his left hand comes from behind him to reveal a large chef’s knife which he kept hidden. Screams can be heard from the TV as the killer strikes again. Yet when the blade sinks deep into her abdomen, no sound is heard. Her face pales and her body drops heavily against the floor.
It was quick. Quicker than it seems in the movies. Quieter. Disappointing to the man who had longed for the thrill. A thrill that did not come.
