Last I remember, it was 7:30 P.M. and I was with my two-year-old son, Johnny, watching cartoons. We just moved into our new neighborhood, and boxes still lay abandoned across the house. It had been a very boring day because the road had slicked over just recently. We had nothing to do since then. He was getting tired, so I took him to bed. I switched the television over to the seven o’clock news and was about to settle into my couch. The current subject was a recent murder in the neighborhood a mile away. They said to be sure and stay inside. I thought they might as well be telling a lion to eat when it’s hungry, what with the current weather. But stuff like that, happening so close, it gets me jittery. I had to check on Johnny.
He was already fast asleep, which was amazing because his curtains were still open. He hated having them open and refused to sleep without them closed. Just before I went to close his curtains, knowing he would be screaming if he woke up in the middle of the night with them open, I saw what looked to be a figure lurking in through the window. I decided it was a tree or something, but as I drew the blinds, I could’ve sworn I heard a laugh coming from it. I opened the blinds, just to disprove my wild imagination, only to see the figure was a man, standing in the snow. He walked closer, and that was when I noticed, there were no footprints in the snow. The figure was a reflection from behind me.
My body was overrun with fear. It took every drop of courage I had to turn around. As I turned around, two lifeless, dead eyes stared back at my own. I saw Johnny in his crib, and I lunged toward him, cradling him safely, before sprinting as fast as my legs would allow. I made it to the hallway, before bumping into one of the boxes we had stacked at the side. Johnny pried himself from my arms at the first chance he had, hobbling back to his room, not understanding what was happening. I heard him shriek, and he ran back, the killer not far behind. I assumed that the killer had no interest in killing children. Which assured me the man had some sanity left. But I still ran back to grab Johnny. I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave him with that monster. As I grabbed him and tried to get away. I saw the man smirk, and throw his arm into the air, a knife in hand. I realized that he wasn’t letting Johnny live because he wouldn’t kill a child, he let him live as bait. He let my son live, knowing that I would come back for him. Knowing that when I came back, I’d be in range for him to stab me. That thought barely processed before everything went black.
