The Calling. Kim O'Neill

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ her from the room. From down the hall, there was the sound of grappling, then a powerful punch. Thud! “Ohhhh—stop!” the girl begged. “Please! Why are you—” Thud! Thud! “No! Noooo! . . . ” A body heavily fell to the floor. Thud! Thud! Thud! Then an awful silence that seemed to go on forever. Water splashing in a sink. Footfalls.

      The intruder was back, his expression maniacal. Beads of sweat dripped from his face. Only two of the roommates remained, bound, on the floor where he had left them. It didn’t take more than a second for him to decide who his next victim would be.

      The man strode up to the girl who had fatefully returned from her date a short time earlier. He took out his knife, crouched down, and severed the binds on her ankles.

      “No! Not me!” she implored, as he yanked her to her feet and shoved her onto a nearby bed. She fell back upon her arms, which were still bound behind her. Over her strident protests, the man used his knife to shred her blouse, her bra, her skirt, and her panties. Her naked body trembling, her eyes wild with fear, she pleaded, “No . . . please don’t hurt me . . . ” She clamped her legs together and tried to draw her knees close to her body.

      In a deranged frenzy, he swiftly unbuckled his trousers, pulled them down, and brusquely spread her legs.

      “No! Please don’t! I’m begging you! No—”

      The man roughly settled on top of her. “Put your legs around my back,” he huskily demanded. Then he began to brutally push into her, grunting and moaning with each savage thrust. His movements were so forceful that the sturdy bed squeaked loudly.

       What are you doing? Stop it! You’re hurting her!

      The dark-haired girl with the child-like frame now cowered on the floor nearby, all alone, tightly bound hand and foot. In a foreign language, she began to pray loudly in an attempt to drown out the other girl’s tortured cries for mercy.

      A spasm finally gripped the man’s body. Then he became very still. After a few moments, he slowly stood and pulled off his pants and underwear. There was blood between the girl’s legs. He dragged her to her feet, took the knife out of his back pocket, and cut the restraints that held her wrists. “I’m not finished with you,” he said, poking one of her breasts with the sharp blade. “Not by a long shot.”

      “Oh, my god . . . no, please . . . ” she whimpered, wiping tears and a runny nose with the back of her hand. He took her by the arm and forced her to limp behind him. Their footsteps traveled down the hall, and then they could be heard descending a flight of stairs. A few moments passed before the girl’s loud cries rose from downstairs, followed by the intruder’s bestial grunting that continued interminably.

      In the back bedroom, there was only one girl left. Hours before, she had been the one who unknowingly opened the door to the intruder. As she heard the man terrorize the last of her friends, her face became a mask of determination. It took several long minutes, but she was able to successfully wiggle under one of the bunk beds.

      Abruptly, the first floor fell silent.

      The dark-haired girl inexplicably scooted back out of her hiding place! From her position on the floor, she craned her neck to rapidly survey the room, her expression full of urgency—and the will to survive.

      The sound of footfalls could be heard coming up the stairs.

       No! What are you doing? He’ll see you!

      She propelled herself completely across the room in a series of jerky, panic-stricken movements. When she reached the other bunk beds, she kept maneuvering her small body until she forced herself completely underneath the low bed frame. Once again, she was totally out of sight. I trotted over and peeked underneath. She had scrunched up against the wall, and her breath was coming in huge, but silent, bursts. She closed her eyes and began to pray again.

      You’re hidden! You’ll be safe under there! I sat on the floor by the bed, Indian style. I kept peering down at her to see if she was okay. I hoped she wasn’t going to start sneezing from all the dust.

      Right down the hall, water flooded into the sink. Then it stopped. Eager footfalls. Instinctively, I jumped to my feet and fled to the other side of the room. The dark-haired girl hiding under the bed stopped praying and was silent.

       Here he comes! Don’t make a sound!

      The naked intruder strode back into the large dormitory bedroom, his lower body smeared with blood. He was a carnivorous animal ready to devour the last of his disabled prey, but he was visibly surprised to find the room empty. His cold blue eyes narrowed. He crouched to look under a bunk bed. No one there. Then he searched under an adjacent bed—the exact place where the girl had been hiding a short time before. No one there, either. Frowning, he stood back up. His eyes darted to the bed where the rape took place. Drying blood stained the crumpled sheets. There was an excruciating silence.

      A shrill ambulance siren pierced the stillness, fading as it continued on its way. The intruder stealthily moved across the room toward the bunk bed that concealed the girl. I followed on tip-toes. Abruptly, he stopped. I paused. Like a predatory beast stalking with telepathic senses, he twisted his head slightly to listen. He turned around slowly, but deliberately . . . and looked right at—me! He had sensed my presence! I gasped and my hand flew to my mouth. Can you see me? Please . . . .no!

      My heart began to pound out of my chest! Our eyes locked—and he leered . . . right at me! It made my skin crawl. “So you’ve watched everything, little girl?” he drawled, emphasizing every word. “Too bad I can’t do you like all the others—but you’ll never be able to forget me just the same.”

      I awoke from the dream with a start. I was so scared I couldn’t catch my breath! I looked around my room. I grabbed a handful of my pink blanket to make certain I was really back home and no longer in that dormitory! I could hear my parents snoring loudly in unison. That meant my Mom was okay . . . until the next weekend.

      Shaking, I turned on my bedside lamp. Outside my ruffled curtains, I could see pale strips of light just beginning to streak the dark sky. It was morning. That had been a long nightmare! And I didn’t understand anything that I saw. It was the worst dream I ever had. I was so glad that it wasn’t real . . . and that I was back home. Dorothy’s voice from the Wizard of Oz ran through my mind: There’s no place like home. Boy, was she right about that!

      My cheeks were wet from tears, and I wiped them with the top of my flowered pajamas, pulled on my slippers, and trudged downstairs to the kitchen. I yanked on the door of the fridge, grabbed the orange juice, and drank from the carton. Standing inside the open door, I welcomed the peacefulness of being the first one up that Sunday morning. I placed the carton back on the shelf, closed the fridge, and walked outside through the unlocked front door to get the Sunday paper.

      Although it was the middle of July, I was still shivering with goose bumps from what I had “seen” the night before. How would I possibly erase it from my mind? I bent to pick up the heavy rolled bundle from the front lawn and carried it inside. I dropped it on the kitchen table, untied the string that held it together, and sank into a chair to read the funnies.

      As the Chicago Tribune unrolled, a picture of the man from my dream—was staring up at me! I gasped and my eyes popped from my head. It was really him!

       POLICE NAB KILLER SUSPECT Picture Identified By Surviving Nurse

      Richard СКАЧАТЬ