Door 4- chapter 3

  All I could do was stare. My heart raced. “Get in the van.” He ordered me. I couldn’t move. “I said, get in the van.” He moved closer and stood next to me. I could feel his breath. Worse, I could feel the dagger poking my side. A green car slowed and its curious driver looked at us and then drove on.  He shoved his dagger in his pocket. “I put the dagger away. I won’t hurt you,” he grunted through clenched teeth. He rested his hand on my limp arm, slowly moving his hand down to my hand. His hands felt like icicles. They felt like the hands of a killer. We walked the few feet to the van.  “Come on, get in the car.” He said. I started to get anxious. My mind was racing. I put all my weight on his arm and just fell. His grip loosened and I sprinted away. I was crying so it was difficult to see. Everything was blurry. 

       My heart felt like it was outside my chest. I was unable think, to process what was happening.  I hid behind a big tree. I reached into my pocket and grabbed a tissue to wipe my eyes. I peered around the tree to see if he was there. I saw no sight of him or the van. I let out a sigh and leaned against the tree, grateful for the support. I started  for home. Suddenly I felt something on my shoulder. I was too scared to look so I simply stopped moving. I forced myself to turn around and saw the murderer right before me. “Why are you running from me?” he asked. “Don’t you recognize me? I used to work for your grandpa.”

 

       “What?” I said. He reached into his back pocket and grabbed a bloodied picture of him standing next to my grandpa. “Oh my god… you’re Mark.” I said to him. “You got it, Vanessa. Now get in the van!” He pulled a black bag out of his jacket and placed it over my head. I tried getting away but his grip was too strong. He shoved me inside through the side door. I immediately took off the bag. He was driving too fast for me to consider jumping out of the van. We drove by my school. Through the side van windows, I saw Carry and Allison walking in the bus lane. I pounded on the window and they looked at me. Carry dropped her books and gasped. “Help!” I yelled. I didn't know if they could hear me, but I know they saw me. Mark pulled out his knife and slashed at my arm. Blood saturated my sleeve. My arm was burning.  “You’re not going to escape,” he told me. I started crying again and waited to see where he was going to take me.


To be continued