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The Last One Alive
October 31, 2008—the day my life completely changed.
It was Halloween, two years ago. I was with my four best friends; Sarah, Hannah and Kristen. I have to say, life was pretty great. The four of us came back to Hannah’s after a Halloween party. The best part was that we got the house all to ourselves. Our sore bodies piled into the spacey foyer after hours of fun. The night started off as any other sleepover would; we changed into fluffy pajamas, blasted the music through the gigantic house, and of course gossiped about anything and everything we could think about. Since it was Halloween night, we just had to watch a scary movie!
After we watched “The Hills Have Eyes”, all of us felt a bit antsy. The big, beautiful mansion that was glorious during the day seemed more like a house of terror at night. The vacant halls and rooms appeared to be a little too quiet and the lanky shadows cast against the walls formed grotesque shapes.
We all just sat and listened to the soft music cascading from downstairs, we were all engrossed in texting or checking Facebook on our iPhones. The music abruptly stopped. The loud hum of white noise was projected through the speakers. I glanced at Hannah and she just shrugged, looking just as confused as the rest of us. The music was suddenly restored, but it was not the usual bass on Hannah’s playlist. A whining sound was blasted through the speakers; the volume was turned all the way up. The music was like fingernails clawing a chalkboard. My hands immediately cupped my ears.
“Turn it off!” we all screamed at Hannah as she sprinted downstairs and the music swiftly ceased. All you could hear is our ragged breaths. We shared puzzled looks and after a second, I burst out laughing. Soon enough, Sarah joined and then Kristen. I was wiping my eyes, having trouble breathing between outbursts of laughter.
“That was so scary!” Kristen finally stated when she gathered enough air to speak. “Why would Hannah have that kind of music?”
“Who knows,” I replied. “Besides, where is Hannah? She turned the music off ten minutes ago?”
“Maybe it wasn’t Hannah who turned the music off,” Sarah murmured, mocking the cheesy narrator of the scary movie we watched earlier.
I let out a single nervous laugh, “Lets go see if she’s okay.”
The three of us linked arms and slowly made our way downstairs, occasionally screaming whenever one of the stairs creaked. When we finally made it to the main floor, Hannah was nowhere to be seen.
“Hannah?” We all called, suddenly anxious.
“You guys, she is probably just playing a prank on us. I mean seriously, what else could happen?” I rationalized, trying to calm myself.
Sarah and Kristen nodded in agreement. We all hurried upstairs to the safeness of Hannah’s room. I shut the door quietly behind us. I let out a sigh and plopped on the bed. I grabbed my cell phone and noticed something very odd.
“Who took my battery?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I suspiciously peered at my friends.
“Don’t look at me, my battery is missing too,” Kristen protested, holding up her phone, looking misshapen without its battery.
Sarah just raised her phone, mouth agape.
“Hannah! If this is you, I swear. Just give up this stupid prank.” I shouted, furious. “What are we going to do?” I looked helpless at my friends that just shook their heads and looked sadly at their ransacked phones.
The silence was broken by a banging at the door. Terror coursed through my veins. The banging continued. We eventually ran downstairs. We opened the door, ignoring the rule we learned when you were five. There was nothingness, not a single soul to be seen. I stepped outside illuminated by the porch light. I gasped and gaped in horror at the gruesome scene laid out in front of me. The simple word, “Hello” was written in dark red blood that was still wet. Inside of the “o” was Hannah’s ring that I had given her for Christmas two years before. I tear rolled down my cheek, the fate of my best friend was apparent. Hannah was dead.
When I turned around to see Kristen and Sarah, they were gone. No where to be seen. Tears were pouring down my cheeks and I ran inside and shut the door, made sure it was locked, and then searched the house for them.
I could not find them anywhere. I didn’t know what to do. A peculiar thought inched its way into my mind: If Sarah and Kristen were inside and now they are missing, the killer must be—
“Oh my god,” I whispered. I knew that the killer was inside the house, it had to be. I ran to the front door, I pulled the door knob with all my might but it wouldn’t budge. I peered out the peep hole and a piercing grey eye glared back at me. I jumped backwards, and covered my mouth. Cold sweat was running down my back. One thought kept pulsing simultaneously with my heartbeat I will not die here, I will not die here. At the point, I knew that there was more than one killer.
I hurried to all the doors in the house, but none of them would budge. I felt another presence besides myself in the room. I grabbed the closest item that could work as a weapon, a butter knife. Great, I thought. Better than nothing I guess. I quickly crouched inside a pantry to hide, all I could smell was musty dust bunnies and my hair was coated with cobwebs. I caught a slight movement to my left. I could see through the small slits in the pantry that the killer was searching the room. He was a man of about six feet, and he wore a small, dirty pillowcase that was crudely cut to form holes for his eyes, nose and mouth. I held my breath as he passed the pantry, and I could smell his awful body odor. I let out my breath loudly, my lungs were about to burst. He abruptly turned around and gazed straight at the pantry, as if he could see through the thin door separating us. I gripped the butter knife tightly in my hand and flung open the door and charged straight at him. Before I even got close, I was grabbed by the hair from behind and I turned around to catch a quick glimpse of a third killer wearing a mask like the other, I felt a sharp pain in my head. The world became dark.
My eyes slowly opened and it took me a minute to remember where I was, in Hannah’s basement. I had an awful taste in my mouth and found that I was gagged, but my hands and feet were free. I quickly took the duct tape off my mouth and found my cell phone lying in front of me, with battery and all. I quickly scrambled to reach it, but I felt a sharp pain in my hands and head. I looked at my hand to see a gash from where I was gripping the butter knife. I reached up to feel the warmth of fresh blood on my head; there was a giant gash there also.
I grabbed my phone and jostled up the stairs to where I would receive reception. I heard the T.V. on, curious, I peeked into the living room. I saw the back of three heads sitting on the couch watching T.V. Was this some kind of joke? It looked as if it was Hannah, Kristen and Sarah! I must be dreaming, I kept thinking.
“Kristen? Hannah? Sarah!” I blurted, are they alive?
When I received no answer, I tip-toed to the front of the room to see them. The moment I laid eyes upon the appalling scene, I immediately turned and hurled. I was correct, it was my three best friends, but it was no joke. Their dead bodies were arranged on the couch as if they were watching T.V. as normal. Their lifeless limbs limp and distorted, their chests bloody from where they were stabbed. The smell of fresh carnage was unbearable. I ran outside, where the sun’s rays were just peeking above the horizon. I clumsily called 911, and waited for the police to come.
Then the rest was what you would think it, hours of investigation, crying family members, memorial services, and me, reliving that day every time I’m asked to re-tell the story. The only thing is; the killers were never found.
How come I was the only one who they let slip by? Why did it have to be us four? Who did this? These questions haunt me every single night. The answers: no one will ever know.