It was a hot summer night, six years ago. I was playing Hunger Games with the kids on my block. The rules are very simple: You try to tag other people without getting tagged yourself, but you need a weapon in order to tag, or kill someone. Weapons were located in a great big pile in somebody's front yard. If you were killed, well . . . you died, and had to sit on the front porch on front of the weapons, or, the Cornucopia.
I was running, panicking through backyards trying to stay alive. My neighbor Lindsay, was right at my heels. He had a huge swim noodle, and I was inches away from it slapping down my back. In a fit of terror, I dove for some bushes in a nearby front yard.
My chest and leg ached. I struggled to stay quiet as I remembered falling from the dead, crusty tree I'd been climbing to avoid Elliot killing me with his toy bow and arrow. I had gotten a huge cut, and even today, it still left its mark, serving as a reminder of what happened that night, so long ago.
I lay downm perftly still. I breathed through my nose to reduce the sound. A car shone its headlights in my eyes. I scuttled into a thicker area of the bush-wall that I had settled in.
Taking in my surroundings, I realized no one was near. Soofia, Aiden, and Lissa were interlocked in a fight across the street on the other side of the block. I listened for footsteps. then sprinted into the alley, my dumbbell in hand, just in case. I was one to hide, and I never looked for a kill.
I stepped close the garages in the alley, clutching my weapon. I had earned it, but had had to kill Choley in exchange for it. She was two years younger, but not an easy kill. Man, she had an attitude.
I walked into the backyard of a house where no one lived. Most of the kids said it was haunted. I didn't believe a word of that.
I hid inside the garage. It was small, musty room. THe ugly green paint was peeling, reveling a sickly grey shade underneath it.
No wonder no one lived in the place. The red brick walls were coated in green ivy. A brick was even sticking out, its edge jagged and sharp.
Suddenly, I heard rustle. I spun around madly, shining my flashlight.
¨Who's there?¨ I whispered. My eyes darted left and right. ¨Please, tell me I won't hurt
you!¨
The voice gave a low chuckle.
¨But I might,¨ the man's voice said. HIs voice was deep and threatening.
I backed away.
¨Who are you?¨ I stammered. MY eyes were wide with fear.
¨And why would I tell you??¨, the man said. The moonlight shone on him, but his black-grey cloak-jacket, I should say - concealed his fce.
He stepped closer.
¨Get away from me. If you come any closer -¨ I browsed through my pocket, finding what I needed - ¨I'll use this!¨ I banished my pocketknife.
No reply. I ran out of the yard, faking a right, but actually stumbling to the left.
I looked over my shoulder. There was no one behind me. I kepy running -
I screamed when I stopped. The figure was in front of me. Without thinking, without speaking, I grabbed my trusty knife -
And slashed it across his face. Across his eye. Just one long, bloody, scarring gash across his face, reaching from his forehead, across his eye, his lips, to his chin.
¨You little - !¨ he shouted. grasping blindly. He ran after me, groaning in pain and agony, chasing after me, in the dark, the moonlight forming his terrifying silhouette. It was only when he tripped over a root - the root of the tree where I had fallen - that I stopped running. A pool of blood formed. Realization came over me that he was still alive and that he'd be up and running after me soon.
Without looking back, I ran out of the dark, bloody alley and back to my house. Th last thing I heard before I left the alley was the man's rasping voice:
¨Iĺl be back. I will find you.¨
Ever since then, I haven't gone near that house or the alley without my pocketknife. Six years later, I still live in terror, thinking that one day, that man will return, waiting to take his revenge on me.
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