“I don’t know what you’re playing at but I’m calling the police.”
“I’m just trying to get an extension—”
She hung up.
“Great…” Steven sighed and set the phone down. Marv’s new girlfriend was a real piece of work. He’d been calling for the past several days trying to negotiate an extension for his rent, but he’d only managed to get ahold of this lady, who had slowly grown from unhelpful to outright hostile. Steven doubted if she had even told Marv that he’d called.
Some part of him couldn’t blame her. Times were tough all around, and money was tight for everyone. If a tenant couldn’t pay then Marv would find one that could. But Steven thought he and Marv were friends—surely he could make an exception just this once?
Steven shook his head and turned on the television. He’d try again in a few hours.
There was no answer the next time he called. Frustrated, Steven resolved to go up to Marv’s apartment tomorrow. He’d dig into his rainy-day fund and approach him with cash as a show of good faith. They could work something out; he was certain of it.
The clock struck 11. Steven went about his wind-down routine and was just about to curl into bed when his phone rang. Caller ID said ‘Marv.’
Steven quickly picked up. “Marv? Hey! I’ve been trying to reach you!”
Silence.
“Marv? Hello?”
The sound of heavy, ragged breathing blew through the receiver. Steven stared at his phone with confusion. “Marv?”
“Help…”
There was a sound of wet meat being cut, followed by a gasp. Then the line went dead.
Steven jolted upright, all drowsiness banished in an instant, and ran to the door. Kicking on his boots, he dashed to the elevator and frantically pressed the ‘up’ button. But when the floor numbers didn’t change after several heart-wrenching moments of waiting his impatience got the better of him, and he flung himself up the steps, dialing 911 on his cell.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“Send the police to 1013 East Morat Street, apartment 412, 4th floor!” Steven yelled breathlessly, his voice echoing in the stairwell.
“Hello? Sir? Would you pl…eak…”
“Hello? Hello!”
Damn stairwell. Steven ran faster, finally bursting through the door onto the fifth floor.
“Sir, please speak up? Are you alright?” the operator said.
“Police! 1013 East Morat Street, apartment 412, 4th floor!” Steven yelled again.
Silence from the phone, and no tone that signaled a line-change. Cursing, Steven was about to lay into the operator when something caught his eye. The door to Marv’s apartment was cracked open.
“I’m… I’m approaching my friend’s apartment. I think he’s in trouble. I think someone broke in.”
More silence.
“I have to check if he’s alright. I’m going to stay on the line.”
Steven crept warily towards the door. What was he thinking? He should’ve brought a weapon with him.
Pushing the door open slowly, he peeked around the corner, doing his best to keep his breathing quiet. His heart dropped into his stomach at what he saw. The room was a mess, with furniture knocked over and items strewn about.
A massive, black dog lay in the corner with its head resting on its paws, staring at Steven.
Marv didn’t have a dog.
It must be his girlfriend’s. Steven gulped and opened the door completely, crouching down low to make him seem less of a threat. Is that what you were supposed to do with dogs? He couldn’t recall—rational thought had been thrown out in favor of instinct and adrenalin.
“Hey, boy… or girl,” Steven whispered, keeping his hands up as he approached. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
The dog followed him with its eyes, but didn’t move.
Steven gulped again. Carefully avoiding the debris, he crept deeper into the apartment. The dog still didn’t move. Steven eased a little as he felt more certain that he wouldn’t be attacked, but something definitely didn’t feel right.
Turning a corner gave him a view of the bedroom. The door stood ajar. A hand lay limply on the floor just beyond, clutching at a phone.
“Marv!” Steven yelled, jumping forward.
Only to fall screaming to the ground as a blinding pain erupted from his ribs.
He pressed one hand to his stomach with shaking fingers, staring uncomprehendingly as they came away drenched with blood. Slowly, he turned to look up.
A man stood over him with a long, wicked knife in his hand, smiling maniacally down at him.
Steven panted raggedly, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. The man didn’t move, merely staring at him with his grin.
A sound came from the doorway. The dog barked and briefly came into view as it ran towards it. A woman’s voice called out.
“Hi sweetie! Mommy’s home.”
“No… run,” Steven said weakly.
The killer’s grin widened.
“Not again!” the woman exclaimed. “Bad dog!” The sound of her footsteps got closer.
“Run!” Steven called hoarsely.
The woman appeared around the corner, casting a distasteful eye around the room.
“Get the police! Get out!” Steven screamed.
The lady turned to stare at Steven through the doorway with confusion. Steven reached out one bloodied hand to her in warning. The woman opened her mouth, looking ready to scream.
“And I left the lights on,” she muttered instead. “Again.”
Steven blinked. The woman approached, cast one critical eye around the bedroom, and shook her head before deftly flicking the light off.
She froze and jerked her gaze up as though finally registering the man with the knife. Her mouth dropped open, and the scream that Steven had been expecting finally made its way out. She bolted back the way she came with her dog on her heels.
And still the killer stood there, smiling.
Steven and the man stared at each other without a sound. It was only when blue police lights flickered through the windows that the man finally sighed forlornly and said, “Do you know the secret to cheating God?”
Steven’s breathing had grown too weak to respond. The man continued. “The trick is to not let Him see you. To hide in the place between life and death, where heaven and hell can’t reach you.”
The man approached. Steven clutched the phone in his hand tighter. He was still on the line. He brought it closer to his face with the last of his strength.
“Where you can carve out a little Heaven for yourself.” The killer lifted his knife, catching the police lights in its sheen. His smile returned, glistening white in the dimly strobing room.
“Help…” Steven whispered.
“See you tomorrow.”
The knife sliced through Steven’s belly. Steven gasped. In the last moments before death took him, he turned his face to the side where the killer’s first victim lay, clutching the phone that had brought Steven there.
His own eyes, glassy and lifeless, stared back at him.129Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡt73zIDe2Vc
