Witness

Witness

I walked down the street and turned. Nope, this is not my street. I stopped and checked my map. Someone next to me gave me a weird look, but I did not care. Boy, was it true when someone said New York City was the Big City. I had moved here last week and I still couldn't find my apartment without my map.

Ah! There it is! My building wasn't qualified to be five-star, but it was at least a three and MAYBE a half. I didn’t mind that it wasn’t the best place because it was cheap. After all, my job at the grocery store didn’t pay much.

I walked up the stoop as several kids scooted out of my way. The old, rickety door was dead-ahead. I inserted the key and turned right. Left from the grocery store, right for the key to the door.

The elevator was broken, "For the moment," the building manager would say, but my next-door neighbors told me it had been broken for three years.

I grabbed my mail from the slots using my key and walked quietly up the stairs. '5' a sign read at the end when I paused, catching my breath. The stairs were steep, looking down.

I heard the floor creak behind me. I turned quickly to face the '5' sign, at the end of the stairs holding my pepper-spray upright. Nothing. I pushed the door open slightly, just enough to see a man in black, with brown hair and hard, cold, gray eyes shoot my neighbor.

My blood rushed to my feet. My heart pumped a million times faster than normal. If I had a mirror and looked, my face would have drained of all the color, if it ever had any.

BANG!, it rang over and over in my head. I gasped as he laughed un-heartily and he tilted his head, searching the grounds.

He is going to see me!

I thought of shutting the door, but it would only make more noise. I racked my brain for ideas, thinking of any television shows like this for good ideas. McGyver, The Adams Family, 7th Heaven…McGyver! He had just witnessed a murder and needed to find a way to separate the rooms they were in without shutting the door and creating noise.

I pulled a pen from my bag and stuck it in the gap between the door and the wall, just as McGyver had. While it was held ajar I backed away and dialed the numbers, '9-1-1' into my phone, panicking.

I slumped against the wall as the other line picked up. "Hello, this is 9-1-1, emergency line, please state your emergency."

I gulped. "There has been a-a-a m-murder."

"Where? Are you all right? How did it happen? "

"My apartment building, and yes, I'm fine, but my neighbor is not. The address is 2-3-9-5-3 Rte 12 South, New York City, New York, 1-3-6-0-1. The m-man, he, sh-shot her "

"Okay, thank you. Just remember to stay calm while I call for help. Is the murderer still in sight?"

"Y-yes. In sight I m-mean."

"What floor are you on?"

"The fifth. Hurry." I whispered, before hanging up.

I huddled myself into the far corner, behind the door, where the man couldn't see me without coming closer to the door.

I watched him pace around Mrs. Hainker's dead body. It seems as though he was thinking or wondering if she was really dead. He paused his pacing and looked at the door.

Why was he still there? What was he doing?

His eyes searched, trying to see me, the witness. His dark and cold stare frightened me. I shuddered at the thought of what he might do to me.

He finally turned back around to look out the window. I sighed loudly in relief, a little too loudly. He suddenly twisted around and pushed the door violently open.

I screamed and stood, spraying him directly in the eyes with a large amount of pepper-spray. He screamed loudly and covered his eyes, trying to relieve the sting. He fell to his knees, clawing viciously at his burning eyes.

Loud thumping came from below. Men in black and blue uniforms with plastic shields thudded up the stairs.

One guy motioned for me to come to him, so I scampered over there, still in shock. He passed me down the stairs where a medic checked me.

"You're fine. You're just in shock." She told me, calmly.

I walked down the stairs where policemen interviewed me. They constantly asked me if I knew who it might be, or if my neighbors had any enemies.

Later, the guards, soldiers, or whatever they were, came out and took the guy into a police car, but before they shut the door, he yelled to me, "I'll be back for your neck soon!"

One of the men slapped him before they drove away, but it didn't comfort me. I was escorted to my apartment where police guarded my door. I got no sleep.

All night I tossed and turned, seeing his face. His frightening laugh haunted me. His eyes took the life from me, tore my heart right out. How could he live with that on his mind, when I just witnessed it and it was nearly killing me?

I would say I woke up at 8:00, but then I would be lying. I had been awake all night. Thinking of some diabolical plan the killer will make to kill me.

My first thought was that he would hunt me down then attack me with a knife. It would be a very large knife, no doubt.

My second was that he had "people" that would come after me.

My third, well my third you probably don't want to hear.

I got up at 8:00, or at least out of bed, and got some breakfast. My usual would have been a yogurt, only the most expensive would do, and a 'on the go' iced tea.

However, today I had cereal. To be truthful, I didn't even know I had had cereal.

The guards that were located outside my door had told me the case where I would be a witness to the judge, started at ten. I needed to get in the shower.

I was peacefully finishing off my milk from the side of the bowl when I heard a yell. The bowl tipped. It splashed all over my pajamas.

I stood and slowly made my way to the door, rather frightened, but I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard another yell, again from a hoarse man, but along with came an ear-splitting gunshot.

I stopped short in my tracks. Two yells. Two guards. One Bullet? A knife! It was just as I suspected. Well, a little worse. At least I wouldn’t have to get out of my comfortable pajamas and get ready for the case.

I backtracked my steps and headed for the bathroom. The tub was steel. Bullets can't go through steel. Can they?

I tiptoed in the bathroom and locked the door behind me. No way is he getting in. I crawled into the tub and shivered. Who knew steel bathtubs were cold without hot water?

I flattened my stomach against the bottom. The surface was smooth, but not smooth enough to slip on. I sat up to get my mind off the time, though it would be impossible, and looked around the room.

My towels were white. Plain. Boring. My sink was steel. My counter tops were white, and the mirror, obviously was glass. I smiled. The cupboard on the wall was steel. The toilet was steel. The toilet paper, once again, was white. My rugs were all white.

I was such a lively teenager. I had a cute boyfriend, a nice car, big house, I was cute, well, in my opinion, and I was captain of the cheer squad. I was even crowned prom queen both junior and senior year. How did I turn into a boyfriend-less, car-less, queen-less woman?

I heard a Bang! and a Crash!. The front door burst open. My beautiful white door was now shattered.

I heard several creaks which led into the kitchen and out, after rummaging through my stuff. He then paced and walked in a freaky manner to my bedroom. The door squeaked open.

"I know you are here, my pretty." Ah, the famous line.

I almost snorted, but I managed to hold it back. I tried not to move, but it was the most uncomfortable position I think I've ever been in.


He left my room after a thorough check and walked through the house. After ten minutes, I heard a knock on the door. I gasped and he heard.

"Lemmy' in. I won' hurt ch'ya. It's either the easy way-you open the door-or the hard way. You know what that it is."

"No. I think you will." I managed to squeak out.

"Fine. We'll just have to do this the hard way then."

I felt like a dog, panting and about to pee my pants. Well, dogs don't have pants, so I guess not.

The next thing I knew the man was shooting through the door. I immediately ducked down and heard them bounce over and over again off the side of the tub. I was right! However, being right wouldn't help me now. I screamed and huddled as good as I ever could into a corner.

After, who knows how many bullets shot, he finally stopped. I slowly looked over the edge. He had shot through almost the whole door. He was re-loading his gun, and with a flick of his pinky finger, the door fell to the ground.

THUD!!!

He walked in and put the gun to my head. I trembled, trembled, and trembled. It was all I could do, or so I thought.

I looked around and a bar of soap, electric shaver, manual shaver, and two rags lying on the edge of the tub, nothing useful yet.

Wait! A shaver! I grabbed the shaver as he rambled on and on about how he was going to laugh wickedly after he blew my brains out.

I reached up over the gun, and with my right hand, cut away the dry skin on his hand. He screamed wretchedly.

I thought about laughing just to make him mad, but rejected the thought once more. I hopped out of the tub while he wrapped toilet paper around his hand wound.

I went into the kitchen and grabbed all the sharp knives, just in case I might need them.

I escaped into my bedroom and locked the door. I then barricaded it with my dresser and bed.

I scrambled into the far corner behind my wide nightstand. It held a lamp, several books, my reading glasses and a phone.

Yes! A phone! I dialed 9-1-1 as he pounded on the door.

"I can hear you!! I'll be in there soon!!" He screeched.

I shushed the woman who answered and put the phone on speaker, letting her trace the phone call and send help.

He pounded on the door, then a sudden disturbing silence overcame my apartment. I wish I could see his progress now.....

A few heart-tearing-minutes passed by, but they seemed like hours. I grasped the smallest but must effectful knife i had and crawled to the left of the door, because it opened to the right.

A giant, bloody, masculine hand broke through the door of my stand-up dresser. It reached down and unlocked the handle of the door, opening it. He walked out, blood smearing his face, hands, arms, and clothes.

"Where are you" he said, barely above a whisper.

I held my breath steadily, not wanting to give my self up and die. Maybe..... Maybe if I gave myself up hee would let me live....No. That was nonsense. He was a serial killer. I hugged the knife closer to my chest, lightly inhaling and exhaling my breath.

He mumbled somthing and crossed my room checking everything out while looking for his precious stowaway, me. He looked in my nightstand and skimmed some old book covers.

I quietly yet shakily stood and crossed the room with a chilling silence. Shivers ran down my neck as I stood behind him, rasing my arm.

He quickly turned around as I intook my breath. "There you-" he saidd, never being able to finish. For I had stabbed him in the heart.

I watched him fall to his knees as blood spilled from the wound. He looked at me with one last cold stare and fell back completely. His eyes were locked on me, or that is what it seemed like.

My breath staggered as I realized what happened. What, I did. I killed him. I killed the man the tried to murder me, but suceeded my neighbor. For an unkown reason, I felt guilty. Heavily. I clambered through my dresser and slid down against the wall that faced the door.

5 armed soldiers broked down my door and cocked their guns. Then, looking disappointed, put down their weapons as I pointed to the next room and said, "Self defense"

They walked into my room and dragged the dead serial killer out. I adverted my eyes, shaking. It scared me and I started to cry, slighlty than really heavily, knowing I might go to jail.

THE END!!!

Epilogue

"Ms. Eliza Davis, I sentence you to 20 years in solitary confinement." The judge said before banging the gavel on her desk.

The armed gaurds grasped me like I was a crazy or something. The practically dragged me, in front of the whole courtroom, out of the room and into my "solitary confinement" new life.