My First Time Delivering a Pizza to a Murderer

January 19, 2012
By Chocolateluver BRONZE, West Jordan, Utah
Chocolateluver BRONZE, West Jordan, Utah
1 article 0 photos 3 comments

I wiped sweat off my forehead and sighed. This was the last pizza delivery for the night before I went to a midnight party with Shane. It was close to midnight and I decided to just wear my dress for this delivery because I wouldn’t have time to change afterward. I really should quit this job…. I thought, but I couldn’t, I needed the money badly if I wanted to go to Stanford. Shaking my head, I trudged up to the front door and shuddered. It was an old house with a huge dragon shaped doorknocker. I reached for it but as my finger tips brushed it, the door flew open and I felt propelled by a strong wind behind me, forcing me in.

“Hello?! Pizza delivery!” I shouted, and then winced because my voice echoed off the walls.

There was a whispery sound and I felt my heart pump faster against my chest. The wind from the open door made my dress sway violently around my legs, and then it slammed shut with a huge BAM! I went back and tried to open it. It wouldn’t open. I slowly and cautiously walked farther in. The floorboards were weak and started to groan under my weight. It was dim and I could hardly see anything. I came to another door and was about to knock on it.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said a deep voice next to my ear.

I screamed and spun around. Standing right next to me was a very large man, but as I peered closer, I thought I recognized the small piercing green eyes and the greasy pulled back hair. I sucked in a deep breath and racked my brain, trying to figure out how I recognized this person and where I saw him, and then it finally dawned on me where I saw him. I had seen him on the evening news and heard about him over the radio. I gasped in dread and fear then started to back away; it was the murderer wanted by the police. He had killed six young women and two middle aged men by stabbing them through their chest. The murders had been gruesome and police warned that he escaped from jail three days ago along with the help of a bribed cop. I stumbled over a broken bottle then regained my footing. I immediately regretted wearing my high heels.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” he slurred. He was most likely drunk judging from all the broken bottles on the floor.

I stopped in my tracks then remembered the pizza. “Sorry sir. Here’s your pizza.” I said forcing a tiny smile, “Enjoy.”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” he replied with a smile. And in a flash he lunged for my hair and yanked it back, “I wouldn’t try anything stupid if I were you,” he said while pressing a knife against my throat. His breath reeked of current drinking.

I gasped, swallowed, and nodded. He led me to an area dimmer than the rest of the house. Once we were there he shoved me down on an old black sofa and commanded me to stay there or else. I almost rolled my eyes thinking where else could I go, but decided better and nodded instead. He turned his back to me. He was arranging something on a table and turned back to me and he was holding a rope. He knelt and started to bind my hands and feet. I cried out in pain as my ankle twisted in my heels. I took them off with my bound hands and rubbed at my ankle. He made a questioning sound and bent down to look closer at me.

“You’re too young. I can’t kill you. That’s my policy. Oh well, can’t have people knowing where I live,” he said with a sloppy grin then stopped, “I suppose I should eat first. I’m quite hungry now.” He glanced at me and said, “Don’t go anywhere. OK?” I shook my head angrily.

“Too bad then,” he said. He brought out handcuffs and hooked me to the metal loop on the wall next to the couch. He walked away spinning his knife in his fingers. He bent down, picked up the fallen pizza box and walked farther down the hall. I waited until I heard the door slam and started slipping my hands out of the rope. He obviously underestimated the size of my tiny wrists. Once they were unbound I pulled a bobby pin out of my hair and started to work on the handcuffs. This was almost too easy. When it clipped off I hurriedly untied my feet, grabbed my heels, and started to softly run. I almost made it past the room where he was in before a quiet voice whispered, “Where do you think you’re going?”

I broke out in a dead run. The door was open again. I ran towards it when a hand flashed out and grabbed my arm while another hand slammed the door shut. I shrieked and slapped him across the face. He was momentarily stunned and muttered, “Oh heck no, you’ve gone way to far….” He dragged me back towards the couch but before he could shove me back on it, I slammed my bare heel on his toes and jabbed my elbow in his stomach. He doubled down in pain and let me go. I started to run for the door again but I heard him moan and get up. Something skimmed so close to my arm I felt a small whoosh of air. I looked in front of me where it landed in the wall and saw his knife handle sticking out of it. I screamed and spun around.

“I have to go to a party not the hospital!”

He laughed and walked towards me. I sighed in utter frustration. He was NOT going to ruin my night. I clutched my heels in one hand. I grabbed a book covered in spider webs on the table next to my side and threw it at him. He caught it easily. What he didn’t expect was my anger and desperation. I had taken hold of one high heel and expertly/ desperately flipped it towards him, heel facing straight towards his chest. I was surprised when it buried itself in his chest and he collapsed on the floor in a heap. I ran towards him and yanked my heel out of his chest then quickly called 911 and told them about my situation. I walked out the door and closed it softly behind me.

In the car the realization of what I had just done hit me. I cried all the way to my house. I went inside and waited for Shane to pick me up. When the doorbell rang I took a deep, shaky breath and opened the door.

“Hey!” he said brightly.

“Hi,” was all I could manage with a small grin.

He must have noticed I wasn’t myself and asked what was wrong. I ended up blurting out the whole story to him. He looked shocked, then upset, then worried. Once I was done he wrapped me in a hug and told me we didn’t have to go to the party, we could just stay here and hang out with each other. I sighed with relief and sank on my couch. He sat down next to me and pulled me close. We both started talking and laughing pretty much about nothing in particular. He made me forget all about the murder and I was happy for the rest of the night.

The author's comments:
This was one of the assignments I had and I decided to add it on here. I was inspired by a party and the idea of murder on the news.

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