Bloody Knives in My Leftovers

Chapter 6: Cracking Bloody Knuckles

Let's review. You had just gotten home after quitting your job, so you turned on the news and tried not to cry while packing up your shit. For the past week, you had been hunted and nearly murdered. So what in the living hell was this?

Your eyes locked on the bright yellow note, the smiley face taunting you endlessly as your hand gripped the remote, knuckles white.

There were two options at this moment. One, you turn around and flip your lid, and probably get yourself killed. Two, well.... Here goes nothing.

With a determined inhale you pressed the off button on the remote, shutting off the news program and leaving the TV screen black. Your vision was hazy with stress and sweat as you squinted at the reflection.

'You can't hide from me you fuck.'

This was a stupid idea, and every part of you knew it. What right did you have to fight back against this dickhead? The right answer was nothing, you had no chance. Yet, you grit your teeth and narrowed your eyes. You were so fucking tired and you just wanted a break. So yeah, you were going to murder this idiot.

It was quiet, nothing but your own breathing could be heard. Your heart was racing, beating in your ears. But you dug your nails into your palms and stilled, listening to everything around you and watching your reflection closely.

Standing and waiting for the intruder to make a move... but nothing showed in the reflection of the TV besides your own twisted face, scrunched in fear and anger. Then... something small and pink, sticking to the walls of the hallway.

'Fuck it.'

You inhaled and turned around slowly, quickly raising the fist that clutched the remote, preparing to throw it.

Approaching the pink sticky note you stayed close to the wall, inching closer to it while closing Bailey's bedroom door, ensuring you a few seconds of time if someone was hiding in there. When it was close enough you reached out your free hand and snatched it from the wall, biting your lower lip as you held it in front of you.

'You think you can beat me? :)'

Your jaw clenched as you crumbled the note and tossed it on the ground, you were losing your patience with this cat and mouse game. How dare this fucker think this was all some funny joke! You were fuming. So much so that the next words left your mouth without a reasonable thought.

"OI FUCKASS! YOU DON'T SCARE ME!"

And then just like a scared cat you tossed your makeshift weapon down and sprinted full speed into your kitchen, nearly tripping over the suitcase in the living room.

That's when you heard it. A thump..thump...thump.

You grabbed a knife from the drawer by the sink, whipping around to the noise, blade held up in defense even though you were standing behind the kitchen bar.

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched in horror as an absolutely enormous man lumbered out of your hallway, boots digging into your carpet.

It was like a scene in a movie, this man came empty-handed, knowing full well his bare hands were all he needed to rip you apart.

As he stepped into the dim light you could hear him chuckling, but you couldn't see it. His face was covered by a black hood, a red frown stitched messily across. His thick yellow hoodie was covered by a black coat and he had a leather strap tightened around his shoulder. Carrying something incredibly dangerous, you were sure.

All you could manage was swallowing the bile in the back of your throat, preparing your attack. Your eyes were wide as he stopped, standing in front of your open suitcase, slowly bringing his head down to stare at it. He brought himself down to a crouch, hand rifling through the clothes you had haphazardly thrown in. With another rumbling chuckle, he hooked a finger on the collar of one of your shirts, raising it up to show it to you, displaying the text that read, 'My Little Meow Meow!' The comic sans font was accompanied by a crudely drawn cat. It had been a gag gift from Bailey. Oh man, that had gotten a lot of laughs.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment as you felt his eyes on you before he dropped the shirt. His little laugh had died out and he had stood back up, still not moving forward. After a few seconds, a little click was heard, then a deep and gravelly voice echoed throughout the living room.

"So...you going somewhere, sweetheart?" The way he mockingly called you such a domestic nickname made your blood boil. He tilted his head, giggling yet again to himself, though now it sounded menacing. He was using a voice changer.

With gritted teeth you widen your stance, pointing the knife at his large stature. "Actually, I was just on my way to your mother's house," you sneered before breaking out into a shit-eating grin, "I mean, I already know you're a son of a bitch, but it never hurts to double-check, huh?"

It was certainly not the smartest thing you could've said because as soon as the words left your lips he was taking large strides towards you in silence. His fists were curled and you were sure that you had pissed him off beyond all hell.

As he neared closer to the kitchen opening you searched for a way out, quickly remembering the fire escape plan Bailey had made. Your eyes caught on the window behind the couch, shrouded in light-blocking curtains. So as he reached out with one giant hand to squish your head like a coke can you clamped the knife between your teeth and vaulted yourself over the kitchen island, throwing your legs over it and leaving the terrifying man standing there in momentary confusion.

Without a second thought, you booked it to the window, already hearing the guy re-configure himself and launch forward to try and stop you from your close escape. You jumped on top of the couch and turned around, taking the knife from your mouth and panting. Throwing out your dominant hand you stared at the man pointedly, waving the blade in his direction.

"You take one more fucking step and I'll slit your throat I swear to god!" You were screaming, hoping one of your neighbors heard it but also to try and intimate the very scary guy in front of you, who had stopped to stare at you.

A few seconds of silence followed by a loud, bellowing laugh. He had one hand over his stomach as he hunched over, the voice changer garbling up the sincere noise and making him sound like a cartoon villain. You couldn't help but feel insulted, a little taken aback by how carelessly he laughed at your expense. Sure, you knew you weren't the most threatening person around, but come on, this was just downright rude, even for the standards of a sadistic stalker.

Eventually, the laughter died down as he righted himself, sewn red eyes peering into your soul and reading you like a book. "I'd like to see you try, short stack."

While the name only infuriated you more, you had finally kicked your rational mind into gear, now a lot more focused on your escape than fighting a losing battle. With your left hand, you yanked at the window, trying to be as sneaky as possible. Your right hand was still waving the kitchen appliance around, your face contorted in angry concentration.

"I'll have you know that my height is perfectly decent!" Defending yourself while your hands shook wasn't very convincing, and this guy could tell. He tilted his head and chuckled, before stomping slowly towards you.

At last, the window slammed open, a cold wind blew across your face. A wide delirious smile appeared on your lips as you quickly began trying to throw yourself out onto the fire escape. Which apparently wasn't quick enough.

With one long stride, the hooded man caught you by your ankles, strong gloved hands squeezing your flesh and making you cry out. In a matter of seconds, he was dragging your upper half back into the apartment and dangling you upside down in front of him. Your head spun as you tried to collect yourself, eyes staring wide at the tiny red frown that now looked like a lopsided smile from your upside-down angle.

"Caught you.~" His tone was mocking and you could hear his amusement as he tightened his grip and swung you around a bit, making you disorientated.

Your arms swung out to try and hit him anywhere you could, small grunts of frustration coming from your lips. Your knife had fallen out of your grip when he dragged you back inside, now sitting abandoned on the couch. So you swung in midair, defenseless.

"Let me go you, oversized ass muncher!" Your teeth were grinding as you folded your body upward. You were using all the core strength you had to try and claw at his hands, panting heavily with the exertion. He just wanted your struggle, head tilted down at you.

"That's not very polite of you. Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?" You froze momentarily as he said that, the memories of your mother making your heart sink. You quickly gathered yourself though, determined not to show any weakness.

Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped into your head. You went slack, hanging upside down as your eyes narrowed. "And didn't your mother ever teach you not to be a bitch?" With a swinging motion, you gave yourself enough momentum to shoot your fist out and clock this monster of a man straight in the groin.

A strangled groan left him as he folded over, dropping you quickly. You landed head-first onto the carpet, immediately scrambling to a standing position. You relished in his pain for a second before scooping up your weapon and launching yourself over the couch and effectively out the window.

"Take that you fuck-wad!" You landed on the cold metal with a loud 'clang!' And even though your hands and knees ached from the impact you were smiling, rushing up to the window and slamming it shut, giving yourself a little more time to escape.

Flipping around to stare over the edge of the fire escape you looked down into the snow below you. Surely it couldn't be that bad to land in...even from this height. Besides, it was a better risk to jump than try and get down the icy metal stairs/ladder. You took a deep, stinging, breath and got ready to launch yourself off the edge when a voice rang out below you.

"(Y/N)!"

That alone made your heart drop to your feet.