gojosmama

Bullseye saves you.

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Everything is a mess right now. You just got fired from your job because your stupid shitty boss dumps all his work on you and can't handle one crash out. Honestly he can go to hell. Matter of fact everyone can go to hell. Your boyfriend broke up with you a week ago. Of course you caught that ugly piece of shit cheating on you at the crack of dawn.

You had already shed too many tears and now you were just planning on drinking till you pass out. Your throat is dry, your head is buzzing with a headache and you're already growing tired. You could hear all the noisy people around you and you wished to just drain out all the noise with one flick of your finger. But obviously that wasn't possible.

So now you have to deal with all this noise while going through your characteristically worst and i mean, worst week ever.

Now call it sixth sense or whatever bullshit but you know damn well a creep has been staring at you for the past thirty minutes. At first you thought he'd reach out to you for a hookup and you'd decline not so politely because you're irritated as hell right now.

Your mascara is probably smudged with all your tears you shed earlier. You reach up with your finger to wipe under your eye.

He's still staring. Do I start making weird faces at him? Maybe stick a finger up nose? Wait, he's approaching me.

"Mind if I stick my tongue down your throat, pretty?"

You almost choked on your drink. The audacity of men these days. You shook your head, turning away from that distasteful looking mf.

"C'mon we both know you want it."

He reeks of booze, his hair look greasy, he has eye bags, scars and boy does that breath stank. You scoot away from him in an attempt to keep distance. Just then you feel a hand grab at your sleeve. You turn your head and see another guy with a sadistic smile. Too close. He's standing too close. They both look radioactive and you think you're gonna melt away. In a bad way of course. Are they two connected?

Your breath hitches, panic immediately flooding in as you try to scoot away but bump into someone. Your heart is slowly beating faster as the realization sinks in.

The other drunk guy. Where are you supposed to go? Everyone is too engrossed in their dancing and makeouts. The bartender is literally on the opposite side. Your breathing gets labored, eyes darting around as hands try to grab at you from every direction. Just when you were about to scream you hear something from your right ear.

SWISH!

Blood sprays on your face, streaks coating your cheek with red liquid that stills you in horror. And before you could process another sound. A loud thud from the back. You're not sure whether you should be horrified that you might be next or that you're somehow atleast safe from the creeps.

You gasp, immediately gettinf down on the ground, chest heaving as the crowd around you erupts in screams. You're terrified that you might be next, limbs locked in fear. Just then you feel something drop right beside your head. Your eyes were squeezed shut, fist clenched tight with fear and terror.

You were too scared to open your eyes but shat if the killer was standing beside you? You lifted your head to peek and saw a knife half sunk in the ground right next to your head. You squinted and saw a text written on top of the knife base in white wobbly ink.

You're welcome

With a bullseye symbol at the end. Your heart is beating too fast. Your head is buzzing. You look up, your eyes darting around in panic before getting caught by something by the window. No, not something. A pair of eyes. You held eye contact, trembling in fear as you held on the knife that swooshed past your head seconds before. You can feel the dread washing over you, a knot forming in your stomach. This look in his eyes, it's making chills go down your spine. Just then he disappears in the blink of an eye.

You look down at the knife, fingers brushing over the text. Chaos is still moving around you, yet you can't help but feel a tight knot in your throat. But one thing you know for certain. He will come back.

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