Bursting through every door, she bolted upstairs. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it was an earthquake. Her face was hot and red. She tried to catch her breath, but then she heard the pummeling footsteps going up the stairs. She hastened to her large, Victorian dresser. She quickly crawled inside, quietly shut the doors, and locked it from the inside. Her racing heartbeat pulsated under her fingertips. Her eyes widened as she heard him circle her room.
Beatrice King was a goody-two-shoes all her life. From the time she was just two years old she had better manners than someone ten times her age. Beatrice knew 3 languages fluently besides English: French, Mandarin, and Russian. She always had straight As and a 4.0 GPA. Beatrice lived with her father, her stepmother, and her two younger stepbrothers. Her dream in life was to become a successful humanitarian worker and to travel the world. Beatrice had recently graduated high school and was ready to send off her application to Yale. Beatrice’s life had been going perfectly, until today.
Today had been going just swell for Bea, she got home early from work and decided to start an essay as a backup plan in case she didn’t get accepted to Yale. She had only five hours before she had to pick up her brothers from school, so she thought she’d better get going. She was making herself a PB&J right as she heard a sound from the other room, “mom?” She said, wondering if she had come home early as well. She didn’t hear a reply, so she assumed it was nothing. She had just finished eating her food, and was about to head upstairs to her room, when she heard footsteps. At this point she was suspicious, so she looked around the corner or the stairwell. She silently gasped, she saw a tall, dark, figure. She didn’t think it saw her, but then she heard heavy footsteps coming her way, she caught him off-guard and ran in his direction. Luckily for Bea her house had many rooms and was large and confusing, she started running back and forth through the rooms, hoping to confuse the man who was in her house. It wasn’t working.
Continuing from where this story had started, she carefully looked through the seam between the dresser doors and watched him slowly walk towards her closer. She could almost hear her heartbeat, “please leave, please leave” she thought to herself.
He ripped open the doors of her dresser, hot tears ran down Beatrice’s face. “just kill me already” she calmly whispered, “I can’t handle this anymore”. His large, gloved hands held her in a choke hold, she said her last words “make. It. Quick.” and with that, the poor girl was dropped to the floor and her body lay there, lifeless and pale.
The man responsible for her death walked away with a smirk on his face, heading back to his car to pick up his two stepsons.
Teen Wordsmiths 