Never Stop Moving

December 13, 2011
She was on the edge of a moonlit street. Her breath came out in ragged, terrified gasps. She was being hunted.

As the headlights rounded the corner, she knew that it was over. There was no escape. She sagged against a wall in utter defeat.

But as the van pulled up next to her, she felt the warm, relaxing feeling of relief wash over her. It wasn’t the hunters! It was a sleazy-looking guy with a kind but concerned visage. “Need a ride?” He asked, smiling uncertainly.

She considered it. She had been trained and parented to say “no” and sprint in the opposite direction of this particular request. But in the chilling, half-drunken state she was in, she wasn’t going to refuse. She spoke. “Yes . . . . please.”

“You can have shotgun,” he said charmingly.

She dubiously got in. For the first few minutes, there was silence. Then, the guy suddenly shattered it.

“What’s your name?” he bluntly demanded.


“For Kathleen?”

“Yeah.” After this brief bout of talking, she started observing her surroundings. Her breath caught as she looked in the back. Murder instruments. She barely concealed her gasp. She must not let him know she knew about these sickening tools—it would give her a better chance of escape later. Shoulders tensed, jaw tightened, she played it cool. Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore. “My house is here . . . . could you drop me off?”

Even before the guy turned and gave her a morbid grin, she knew it was a hopeless case. They were nowhere near housing of any sort.

She knew she had to survive this. But one more look into the space where the back seats had been removed told her that she would be an easy nut to crack.

When the mysterious driver took a detour on to an unpaved lane, all of her hopes vanished like cobwebs in the wind.

They were far from civilization. No one would find her. Even if she somehow escaped, she wouldn’t know where on earth she was.

Kathy unconditionally gave up and let the comforting hands of sleep envelop her.

She woke up to the sound of screaming. She was in a room. A woman was begging, pleading for her life. After a few seconds, all noise came to a halt. She knew that someone had been killed in the room next to her.

Her door handle rattled.

Kathy’s blood ran cold. She froze. Everything was quiet.

“LET ME IN!” The killer bellowed.

Kathy screamed. She screamed until she heard his footsteps receding and screamed some more. At long last, she cried herself back to sleep.

“Knock, knock. Kathy, unlock the door.”

There was no chance she was opening that door.

“Kathy, I have a key.”

After a moment, she heard the key turning and the door opened.

They guy from last night, tired and pale, beckoned to her. “Let’s have breakfast.”

She knew she didn’t have a choice and was afraid of the consequences if she refused. She followed him into the kitchen of what she assumed was a house.

It was a classic breakfast—eggs, bacon, and orange juice.

Kathy hesitantly took a sip. It could be poisoned, but she would rather be poisoned than tortured. She mustered her courage. “I heard what you did to that woman last night.

His expression was not what she expected. It was painful. “I couldn’t help it,” he said.

“That’s not true. I heard her imploring you not to kill her through the wall. It made me want to hurl.”

His countenance changed from hurt to defensive. “I have a personality disorder. I’m a completely different person at night.”

She wasn’t sure if she believed him. “What’s your name, anyway?”

He hesitated. “It’s Josh.”

“Well, Josh, take meds! Or like . . . . lock yourself up at night! You have no excuse for killing her,” she pointed out.

“I can’t afford medication and how would I get myself out of a locked room in the morning?”

He was right, she knew. “I could help you,” she offered.


“We could imprison you each night. I can’t do it forever, but it’d work until we decided to stop.”

“But I’d scare you with my yelling while you’re sleeping!”

“We’ll put you in the garage or something.”

“Fine,” he replied. “I’m willing to clear my conscious.”

They spent the rest of the day working on a sort of “cage” that would hold Josh. When it was finished, Kathy stepped back to admire it. “Well, get in,” she commanded.

He dutifully stepped in.

“’Night,” she said sweetly.

“’Night,” he replied grimly.

She locked the door and advanced into the house. Grabbing Josh’s phone from the kitchen counter, she sprinted out the front door. Night had fallen.

“I thought you’d try something like this,” said a voice from behind her.

Josh had escaped!

She tried to get away but he seized her, pulled her into the house, and dragged her into the same room he had killed the woman in the previous night. She clawed and kicked, but he did not relinquish her. He forced her on to a table and started to tie down each limb.

She shrieked as she felt the first cut.

The next morning, Josh entered the room. He turned on the lights and moaned when he saw what he had done to Kathy.

“Goodbye, Kathy,” he uttered.

Kathy heard a gunshot and a “thump” and was glad that he was dead, even though she had to sacrifice herself to kill him. She took one last shuddering breath. “Goodbye, Josh,” she whispered.

Although Kathleen Carter’s parents sent out many search parties, they never found her. She was confirmed dead when a wandering hiker found her in a suspected serial killer’s house on December 10th, 2011.

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