Jenna is an average schoolgirl. She's quiet and shy with a heart of gold. All her life, Jenna has secretly wished for more. Living in the same dull town for seventeen years can take it's toll.
But then the murders start. One by one, female students Jenna's aged are killed in the same fashion. Stab wounds.
Jenna fears she may be next.
Tara Fielding stepped out into the rain that night with absolutely no idea what lay in store for her. It was a normal Saturday night, she was going round to the local shop - the only shop in the village - to fetch some milk and juice for her mother.
It had just gone eight thirty and it was times like these when Tara deliberated learning to drive. It was dark, cold and a little bit chilling. Something that had nothing to do with the weather made Tara tug her coat tighter round her body and quicken her pace. She was just being paranoid though; it was the way the night made everything just a little bit more sinister.
Tara lived in a village that consisted of a primary school, one main grocery shop and one doctor's surgery. The village itself held no more than five hundred people most of which had known each other since they were little and had grown up among one another. She hadn't known anything outside of this little village and had been home schooled since she was eleven years old.
Her social skills were poor but her intelligence was incredible. She aspired to leave this little dull village and to go to University, to study medicine. It was a long shot for her though, she knew that Universities liked people who had come from a good schooling background and whilst she had taken her exams like everyone else, she still didn't feel her dreams could ever really come true.
The shop was getting ready to shut when Tara got there and she paid for the items quickly, rushing back into the cold. After being in the warmth of the shop, the shock from the cold hit her more harshly than before, the wind began to pick up, tangling her now damp hair and cutting across her cheeks.
She clutched the shopping bag tightly in her grip, the plastic material digging into her fingers. She wasn't far away and the eerie feeling from earlier still hadn't left her.
She now felt as though someone was watching her.
A ridiculous thought, she decided and pushed it away. Still, the fine hairs on the back of her neck were standing on edge and she couldn't help but risk a glance behind her.
Someone was standing in the shadows, watching her.
The rain was still falling, although not as heavy before and Tara had to blink through wet lashes to see him more clearly.
She was too shocked to scream, her muscles seemed frozen and all she could do was watch the stranger take a step towards her. The first thing she noticed about him, were his eyes. They were a startling shade of blue and the glow from the moonlight gave them a silvery glint. He was tall, over six foot at least with a muscular build. He couldn't have been older than eighteen or nineteen. Twenty at the most.
Dressed all in black, he seemed to blend in with the shadows. Tara blinked again, thinking she must have been imagining him; she had never seen him before in her life. Yet those bright blue eyes kept on staring at her. Finally, the corners of his mouth tilted slightly into a smile.
Tara took an automatic step back, not liking the malicious curve of his lips.
'Can I help you?' She didn't like how her voice shook and jutted her chin upwards in an attempt of bravery.
He seemed to see straight through this and laughed lightly.
'As a matter of a fact yes, you can. I'm lost, could you point me in the right direction?'
He was playing with her, she could tell.
'I have to go,' she started to walk away.
'I wouldn't turn your back on me, not if you value your life.'
She realized at that point that she was dealing with a psychopath and she had to be very, very careful. She turned back to face him, her breath coming in sharper than before, her heart had picked up speed but she knew what she had to do. She had been taught this from her overprotective mother. When faced with a dangerous person, keep the conversation going until you can see a way out. Right now turning her back on him seemed to be the very thing not to do.
Breathe Tara, she told herself. Just relax. He's too far away from you to do any real damage yet.
The boy reached into an inside pocket of his leather jacket and produced something. Tara couldn't see what he had in his hand until the stranger shifted his position slightly. Something flashed in the darkness.
'Oh my God,' Tara stared at the item in the boy's hand, dropping the carrier bag she had on the floor.
He was holding a knife.
She had underestimated how much trouble she was in. Her eyes sought out the darkness frantically, willing and pleading for a car to drive past or for someone to come along and see what was going on. Her heart was now thundering against her rib cage, her legs threatened to buckle beneath her and every single instinct in her body was screaming at her to run.
She decided to risk it. She turned and started to run back down the narrow country road. Her hair was soaked from the rain and whipped across her forehead.
He was so much faster though.
He grabbed her by the back of her hair and tugged her backwards. A sharp ripping sensation tore through her scalp and she tried to squirm out of his grasp but the boy had an iron grip. She was shaking tremendously now, tears running freely down her cheeks.
'I told you not to run,' he whispered directly into her ear. 'How am I going to punish you now?'
'Please,' she begged.
He didn't say anything else though and before she could plead again she was hit with the most astonishing, agonizing pain right in her abdomen. She didn't have time to cry out, all the breath left her lungs in a long whoosh and she sagged against her assailant. She had no idea what was going on, trembling fingers flew to her stomach and were instantly soaked.
'W-what did y-you do?' She collapsed to the floor. Her vision was beginning to fade and the pain emanating from her stomach now seemed to seep through her entire body.
The knife was now slicked with vivid red liquid. She couldn't connect the pain to anything though, her thoughts were incoherent and had mushed into one warped tangle. She lay in the rain, but she barely felt the water; the pain was too intense.
The boy crouched down to face her, the knife hanging loosely in his hand.
'Sorry love, it's for your own good.'
The last thing she saw before she blacked out completely were the boy's silvery eyes, cutting into her own like daggers, cruel, mocking and sadistic.