The Target - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Death

"Anna?!" Samantha looked up to the woman in front of her. She was holding a butcher's knife high above her head.
"You scared me, Anna!" Samantha said, hand on a racing heart, "What are you doing with that knife? And why are you covered in blood?" she asked suspiciously.
"Oh, dear, forgive my appearance; I only just remembered your birthday when I was cutting the chicken" Anna said politely in her heavy British accent, "And you know how messy it can be with chicken, dear"
"No… I don't" Samantha stated gloomily.
Anna decided she'd rather not go through that discussion, again, with the teen. So, she conveniently changed the subject.
"Well, congratulations dear- 18 is a wonderful year"
"19" Samantha corrected.
"Hmmm?"
"I'm 19"
"Even better, dear… 19 is a beautiful year. Congratulations!"
"Thank you Anna. I truly appreciate that… Thank you"
The older woman blushed at this rush of gratitude, "You're upset because Mr. Carter did not remember?"
"Yeah…He still thinks I'm sixteen" Samantha replied uncomfortably, playing with her fingers.
"Not to worry dear… I will personally remind Mr. Carter"
"It's OK Anna… I want to see how many years it takes him to remember" the girl said bitterly.
Anna smiled at Samantha sympathetically, then, gently, pried her fingers from the olive can and saw the bandage.
"Dear, what happened?!" she tore the bandage away quickly, receiving a sharp intake of breath from Samantha, and started inspecting the wound.
"Not to worry, dear. All we need is antiseptic… You just wait here, while I go get some, OK?"
Samantha agreed reluctantly, "but I rub it on myself…"
"Of course, dear" Anna excused herself and headed towards the door, while Samantha watched her walk away, reminding her, ever so much, of her beloved mother… and watched, in horror, as three blades infiltrated Anna's body at the doorway, appearing, once again, through her back. Then, whoever did this – Samantha could not see, since the half-closed door blocked her view – pulled the blades back, allowing Anna's body to fall numbly onto the floor with a soft "Thump".
"Nooooo!" Samantha wailed, raising her hands to her cheeks, as she saw blood streaming out on the already blood-red carpet, deepening its color…
The mysterious figure now came forth, dressed in a grey cloak. His face remained a secret… shadowed by a hood. In his right hand, he carried a pitchfork with three blades – the pronges that killed Anna… He held an axe, in his left, also covered with the dreadful substance.
'So, Anna wasn't his first!' Samantha realized, hoping it wasn't her brother's blood on the axe.
The hooded figure stepped over his victim's limp body.
"Please…" Samantha chocked, backing away slowly, but, too soon, she found herself against the window, with the murderer growing closer with each step…. Breathing was becoming a problem for the girl as the burning lump in her throat refused to go down…
'Not now' she thought. Wheezing, she frantically searched her jeans for her inhaler, but her hands were shaking so badly, she had trouble getting them in her pockets.
'Come on… come on…' If she couldn't breath, there was no chance she would get out of this alive, not that her chances were so good if she did manage to find the inhaler.
The intruder drew even nearer. Now, there was less than 10 feet between them…
"Oh… happy birthday, Samantha", the dark figure said in a falsely sweet voice, "It's ironic how it's the same as your death day…"
Samantha finally found her voice and let out a shrill cream, shutting her eyes forcefully and hoping it was nothing but a crazy nightmare…