Late Nights by Bailey Kellenberger

 11:01 pm. She walked up the broken stairs and to the rusty cage door that lead to her mournful apartment. As her skeleton-like hands grasped the icy doorknob, the off-white door creaked open. Her fat, tabby cat shrieked and darted away. Home. This was her home whether she liked it or not. Oddly enough her cold and dark apartment, which often smelled like wet moss, made her feel safe. She threw her shoulder bag onto the coffee table and proceed to remove her muddy converse. Suddenly she developed an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was someone there? She called out but she heard nothing. She tried to ignore her feeling, after all, she was probably just being dramatic. She put the teakettle on the burner and reached for the sugar in the cabinet when she felt a hot breath on her neck. She was frozen. Who was there? She spun around quickly on her heels hoping to catch whoever was there off guard. No one was there. Her mind was playing tricks. The piercing sound of the kettles whistle shocked her back into reality. She prepared her tea, grabbed her favorite book that she had read and reread and read again, and sat in the corner chair near the window. Just beyond the walls of her apartment, she could hear stray dogs howling at the silver, crescent moon. She heard, in the distance, the song of a broken hearted drunk man and faint sirens echoed throughout the city. As she was stuck within her thoughts and earl gray tea, two hands covered in leather gloves wrapped themselves around her mouth and neck. She was pulled to her feet. Tea splashed upon the molded floor as the mug bounced to a stop in the corner of the room. She wanted to scream, to call out for help but her mouth was gripped so tightly and her brain couldn’t seem to remember what words were. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for whatever was to happen next. The gloved hands pushed her forward, trying to get her to move faster. She heard the familiar sound of her door opening. The rope was thrown upon her hands and fastened quickly. Finally, it hit her. She was going to die. She kicked her legs and tried to break her head free from her kidnapper but it was no use. Whoever this was, was strong. In an instant, her mouth was covered in duct tape and her legs bound as well. Was she still in her apartment? Had they moved? Why couldn’t she call out for help? Heavy footsteps intruded the thoughts that raced through her mind. She tried to open her eyes only to find out that the night had fallen so dark she could no longer see anything... including her perpetrator. She began to cry and attempted to scream but the tape was wrapped so tightly causing her to wince in pain. The offender sat her upright and began to look through her things. She felt something the brush up against her leg. It was her tabby cat. The footsteps step toward the cat. The cat bowled. Hands grabbed her hair. 

5:15 am. The alarm rang. Time to get up. 

Click here to see part 1