Beth was ecstatic. This was one of the few occasions she had the house to herself. She'd had only a half day at school, and her parents were still at work. Tossing her backpack in the entryway by the front door, she went immediately to the fridge to find a snack. Armed with a sandwich to battle her growling stomach, she headed to her room. her parents had just bought her a computer and she intended to use it.
Nibbling at the corners of her sandwich, she kicked open her bedroom door. Flipping on the light she took a step towards her computer, her free hand already extended to switch it on. She froze as she saw what lay on her floor. Muffling a cry, she dropped her sandwich and raced from the room, towards the front door. The straps of her backpack tripped her as she hurried out the front door, but she managed to keep on her feet. She sank to her knees on the wet grass gasping. This was not something she had wanted to see.
Beth had been accused many times of being a flake. Two nights ago she had woken her dad up in tears because a moth had died on her windowsill adn she couldn't sleep knowing that there was something dead in her room. Her father had grumbled about it, but had removed the offending moth allowing her to return to sleep. This was much worse than any silly old moth. There wasn't any blood involved with the moth. IT was only a bug after all. This was so much worse. She shivered thinking about it, about the spots of blood on the floor, on the lifeless body, even the small amount on her sheets. The head was missing, nowhere to be seen. The neck ended in a bloody stump, the head probably taken as a prize.
Beth started crying anew, curling her arms around herself and sobbing, unaware that in the shadows of the house, the killer watched her.
A quick glance at her watch informed her that she only needed to wait a few minutes more for her father. This fact made her feel better. Her father would know what to do about this. He could take care of anything.
Beth cried out as something brushed her arm. Her cat mewed, rubbing again against her arm. She started to reach out a hand to stroke his head, but felt a quick pang of guilt to be allowing herself to be comforted by the cat, |
