My heart pounded, as I ran across the lawn. As my tinder date chased after me. Tonight was supposed to be fun, but instead the guy that I was talking to be a serial killer. We were meeting at my house, which was clearly a mistake on my part. As I attempted to scale the fence, I let out an ear-piercing scream. As my serial killer stabbed a knife into my leg. I fell into my neighbor's yard and waddled to the back door. I bangged on it, crying. My sticky snotty tears covered my face and the gaping hole in my leg, where I had been stabbed leaked. As my neighbor opened the door she urged me inside.
As she cleaned the wound, she didn't say anything. Seconds later, the police arrived and hurried me to the ER. I still had the killer's tinder photo, but I was in too much shock to think straight. The next day, the police set out photos of the killer, in hopes to find him.
I stayed in the ER for a couple of days. I was too scared to go back to my house, so I camped out with my best friends. After a week of living with her, I realized that I couldn’t keep doing this. I had been scared to return home, and I needed to find the courage to continue my life. I came to the conclusion that the killer must have left the country, because there were police looking for him. But just to be sure I grabbed a baseball out on the way to my house.
As I opened the door, ready to swing the bat with all my might, I realized that my house looked that exact same. The dishes were put up, it wasn’t a mess, there wasn’t food left out. My heart slowed, as I started to relax. I set down the bat, as breathed out a sigh of relief.
I walked to my bedroom to get ready for bed. And then it hit me, me and my tinder date were having dinner, I didn't have time to put the food up. I rushed to my bathroom where my phone was. As I opened the door, I realized I wasn’t alone.
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