The night was filled with silence - echoing, screaming silence.

The kind of silence where you can just know something bad is about to happen.  No one needs to tell you anything, and already you can feel yourself on edge, waiting for some sort of tragedy to strike you down.  It was the kind of silence Rebecca spent her life plotting to avoid, and yet it was the kind of silence she was now confronted with.

A sharp knock on the window was what startled her.  It was urgent and loud, piercing through the eerie silence, and as she crept over she was sure this would be the tragedy to end her. 

Yet she felt her feet move toward it, almost unconsciously, as if of its own will.  Because, frightened as she was, some part of her was curious.  Her hands were trembling, faster as she got closer, and when she reached the curtain, she felt her breath being swept away from her.  This was the moment.  This was when she would brush the thin curtains aside, and face her fate.

So she swallowed hard, tentatively reached out, and shifted the curtain so that the ghostly light of the full moon flooded in.  She peered out, her black eyes widened and searching, lost.  For there was simply nothing in front of her.

Nothing.  Forcing chilly air back into her lungs, she pushed the curtain over the window again, and climbed  back into bed.  She wrapped the soft blanket around her, burrowing her head into it, trying desperately to forget those paralyzing few seconds looking out the window.  She pretended there was someone else with her, someone nice and braver who could comfort her.  She hated to recall that she was spending this night alone.

The knock came back again.  What was uncanny was that it sounded identical to the previous knock.  No one different to the first time could have produced it.

Rebecca stayed in bed, shivering and praying that the knocks would eventually recede.  She bit her lips, gnawing at them until they were chapped.  It was her bad habit since young.  Even now, amidst the terror, she remembered a distinct moment when her mother would slather lip balm on her impatiently and scream at her to take better care of herself.  The memory, despite hostile, was comforting tonight.  She breathed it in and held on tight, willing for it to consume her and take her out of this present moment.

About half an hour later and the knocks still continued.  Rebecca fumbled anxiously and crawled out of bed.  In one quick motion, she leapt up and swept aside the curtain, her breath held in dramatic anticipation.  But again there was nothing.

She walked off slowly, steadying herself, but the knocks had already started again.  They sounded the same as before, but now they happened faster, and they were somehow louder.  Rebecca turned back, but all she could glimpse was a swift and frantic shadow.  Slowly, she turned around again and counted to ten.

Ten seconds later, she glanced back, her eyes burning with worry.  The shadow was back, this time more distinct, and more calculated.  It was strategizing when to plot its exact move.  She knew.

Desperately, Rebecca ran to the front door, then slowly stepped back.  She was probably safer inside than out.  Somehow neither seemed safe right now.

Rebecca tip-toed back into her room.  Perhaps this was all a bad dream and she would wake up soon?  Pinching herself didn't seem to work.

She hurried back in, staring at the floor and counting the tiles to keep herself calm.  She felt her teeth press hard on her lower lip, and distinctly tasted blood.

Another knock sounded, the loudest knock as of yet, and her head jerked up suddenly, her breath bated.  Shards of glass cascaded down into the front lawn of her home, and the bitingly frigid night air swooped in and stung her exposed skin.  That was the least of her worries.  All of her attention was directed towards the tall man advancing steadily toward her.

His shadow, familiar to her from earlier in the night, cast itself across her room, surrounding her.  Large and intimidating and condescending.  It was as if this man had cloned himself several times.

Before Rebecca knew what was happening, she felt a sharp dart sting her leg.  Suddenly, the room was getting blurry and fuzzy, and exhaustion was pressing on her like a suffocating quilt.  Her legs buckled out from beneath her, and spilled onto the floor like tipped water.  The rest of her followed, and the last she heard was "capture her".

Then the world was more black than it had been silent.

When Rebecca's senses returned, she was in a small and dingy room.  Feet shuffled around her, and she could hear faint voices.  Her limbs felt stiff, as if she hadn't stretched them in an eternity.  Then she saw the tight, thick ropes holding her down.  She could feel her heart drumming painfully against them, reaching out for freedom which could not be found.  The room spun as she began to comprehend the hopeless situation she had landed herself in.

Could she have bolted the windows tighter?  Could she have slept in a room without any windows?  There was no use in contemplating what could have been done now.  Everything seemed hopeless.

A man walked into the room, and Rebecca faintly recognized him from when he stood in her room and stunned her.  There were more people talking in the background, but he was striding deliberately towards her.  She would shift back if she could.

She heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being prepared, and her mouth completely dried as it was pointed straight at her head.  She felt all her muscles tighten.

He then spoke gruffly, and each word bristled within her like a foreign, unwanted allergy in her system.  Rebecca flinched as she understood that the only way now for her to avoid death and stand a chance at freedom was to follow whatever he said.

When he demanded her agreement, she fearfully mumbled in response.  He deemed that as good enough.

The ropes were untied, but before she could do anything, she found herself being yanked by the collar and forcefully dragged along.  She did not dare to protest - she valued her life above any fight.  He shoved her along, roughly at some points, and soon she was back out again in the biting night air.

Was it the same night she had been taken?  There was no way for her to know.  All she knew as he dragged her along was that she was to assist him in his next endeavor - startling and stunning some helpless victim in the echoing, screaming silence of this night.

June 09, 2021 01:42

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Fay Winter
22:15 Jul 01, 2021

I love the detail and vivid descriptions you use throughout the story. I don't entirely understand what all the knocking was about, but I loved the eerie feel they added to your story. Keep writing!


Aurelia Lye Cull
07:53 Jul 03, 2021

Thank you! :)


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