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  • Writer's pictureEve Volungeviciute

She Should've Stayed Quiet

She should’ve made a run for it when she had the chance. What’s a little track through the woods to get to the main road? No, she chose to run back into the house like a fucking idiot. She didn’t want to think about, but she was pretty sure at one point she actually kicked her friend’s body along the way. Kind of hard not to since they’re scattered around the house like morbid exhibition pieces.

She didn’t know where he came from, or why he did it. It didn’t even matter – all she could think about was that her friends were dead and she will be next. Especially since she chose to hide under the bed like a sorry cliché from a horror film. Now tension took over every muscle in her body to the point where she couldn’t feel her fingers rammed against the floor boards. She was scared to breathe, as even a little inhaling felt like a thunderstorm in the silence of the room. She couldn’t stay like that any longer. She looked over the window not too far from the bed – maybe she could still make a run for it.

Just as she was about to, the door creaked open. She had to physically restrain herself from letting out a loud sigh. His heavy army boots, covered in mud, were leaving wet footprints on the floor. Each step he took seemed to last about an eternity and a half. For a second it looked like he was about to duck and stick a machete right through her skull. She kept fighting against every nerve ending of her body demanding her to move. If she stayed still for just a bit longer, he might walk away. If she could just stay quiet, she might get to live.

He walked to the window and peered through it. Maybe he thought she jumped out of it. A glimmer of hope ran through her – maybe then he would chase after her. For God’s sake, what was he doing there, having an existential crisis or something?

At last, he started walking back, retaining his painfully slow pace. She would’ve screamed out of joy if she could. He left the room, the door creaking loudly behind him. She knew better than to move right away – had to give it a few minutes, just to be sure.

She slowly moved her legs, struggling to get them to cooperate. How the hell was she going to make a run for it, imitate a worm? She rolled her eyes at herself – one problem at a time. If she took things slow, everything would be fine. Slow, steady, light-


It might’ve been just one floorboard, but it sounded like someone threw the bed against a wall. Maybe he didn’t hear it, though, maybe she was that lucky-

Footsteps. Fast this time.

Too fast.


She should’ve stayed quiet.

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