Chapter Seven: "A Welcoming Home Gift."
DEAR WHOEVER FINDS ME,
I want to ask you to tell my friends I love them and that my killer is some weird murder dude by the name "Ronaldo." He almost killed me a few times but his buddies stopped him. He is utterly rude so finding him shouldn't be hard. Tell Tyler it's okay if he doesn't find a new best friend and that I love him. I also want you to tell my par—
No. No! Wake up, bitch! You are not dying yet. You got blown up not too long ago, and just shot. Not without finding out who Ronaldo is! Not without a fight, Morgan.
Wake up!
Morgan.
Morgan!
"Morgan?" I hear a voice scream. "Morgan, where are you? Are you here?" I groan, but don't have enough strength to open my eyes. Déjà vu hits me hard as I flashback to when the bomb that caught me went off.
Whatever, I'm too tired to answer their calls; they'll find me eventually. Dead or alive.
"Hey, hey, hey! Hey, they're breathing, let's go check it out. . . wait, who is that person on the. . . oh my God! Morgs!" I hear them come closer. Guess they found me. Alive.
"Wake up! Come on baby, wake up. Morgan!" I hear their voice shout distantly through an echo.
What's happening? Why are they screaming my name?
Who turned off the lights?
"Jo! Jo!" Another voice shimmers through my ears. Is it bad how I keep imagining whoever is calling out my name that they're chanting me because I am such a good player and influence? Pfft, I'll be a better influence when I don't have a police record.
I feel them crouch down beside me, and rub their hands over my face. "Jo, can you hear me? If you can, open your eyes."
I shake my head only a mere centimeter. Like hell I am opening my eyes. The crowd is chanting my name, and I don't want this dream to end just yet. I'm sure whoever it is can wait until my fantasy is over.
But, they keep calling my name.
"I don't want to," I groan out. "I'm tired." Not a lie at all. I am tired. Bombs and shootings and saving people really drained me.
"Jo, you'll need to open your eyes for help." It's Bryce's voice.
I grunt, and flutter my eyes, then finally opening them, and I see Bryce and Faith stand before me, scared looks plastered on their faces. I mumble words, slurring as I try to sit up. I should have known that they would do anything to interrupt my sleep.
"No, no, no, no, no. Stay down, it's okay. Just lay back down, help's coming." Bryce whispers, as he rubs his fingers against my face, brushing tiny specs of hair out of my face.
I'm disoriented at first. Why does he want me to lay back down? Why am I cold and wet and laying on something that definitely isn't soft and squishy?
Then, I get flashbacks, and my heart starts to race again, but not out of fear. "You. . . you guys are alive?"
"Yeah, we made it out in time. Minor scratches."
YOU ARE READING
Stalked By A Serial Killer
Mystery / Thriller"How do you feel now, Morgan?" She says, more pointing something out than asking a question. She grabs hold of my wrists and tightens them. If I could see properly I could swear I see them turn purple. "I could beat you to the bone, right here, righ...
