Chapter One: Lighting Dawn

If the endless thoughts rushing through my head weren't enough to keep me awake, then the sounds of the creaking furnace were. As if to add to the messy noise of the night, the cars rattling down the unusually busy road in this Clarksville wilderness didn't help. I was stuck there, pretending to sleep, as the slow hours ticked by. And it was only ten thirty that night.

By the time I finally fell asleep, it must have been way past midnight, because at nine o'clock the next morning my eyes felt glued shut as I was being shoved awake. My limbs were sore and my chest felt compressed as I tried to breathe. I felt like I was suffocating, trying to forget the day before and all the woes it had brought me.

"Do you want me to forget you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I just want to be friends, I don't want a relationship."

And even though he didn't say it, I knew he only meant with me. I was shaking uncontrollably as I lifted up my head and faced the wall, propping myself up on my elbow because I didn't want to remain laying down. I remembered when he was asking me about her, and whether or not he should go out with her. Then he got mad at me because I wasn't mad at him. This whole masquerade was going on for hours before I could convince him that I'd move on if he could honestly say he didn't love me and that he didn't care about me anymore that just as his friend. That went down the hole when he told me he couldn't lie to me.

But that's also when I knew that's all he ever did. All he ever did was lie to me, but I couldn't let that bother me now. Not when I wanted to do something about moving on. I couldn't move on from him yet, but I could move on with my life. And that was why I came up here to my Aunt and Uncle's house: a new beginning in a new place. However, there was nothing up here to do. No mall, no friends, no movies, and, above all, no cell phone reception. It was a little intriguing, but also highly confusing. I was always nervous, always scared, and I always wanted to do something about it before it was too late.

The most interesting thing to do here was winter sports. The snow outside was a prime ingredient for the only fun you could have in this uncilivized area. Snowmobiling, snowboarding, skiing, and tubing. About all there was to it. Well, that and TV.

The cable television had channel after channel, but still nothing good was ever on. I was forever bored here, and I never knew when my uncle was coming back from snowmobiling. He never would bring me out, not now at least, it was too early and dim in the morning or too cold and dark at night. Without anything to do, I lay on the couch, counting the crevices in the ceiling with my gutiar on my lap.

My guitar. My only friend here while my aunt was at work. I strummed the strings absentmindedly as I hummed a tune I wrote when I was eleven.

"Oh, come light my candle,
Come see my crying face,
Come hear the tune I sing,
Falling into space.

Hum the melody,
Sing without all grace,
Tell me you love me,
Tell me to my face."

I had only been humming the tune, but the words were crisp through the other-wise silent house.

"Who's there?" I asked, calling forth any being who dare enter my home without permission of myself or my guardians. It was Saturday, too early in the morning for visitors.

Heavy breathing was my only reply, coming out of the steady silence as only the terror could allow. A man, about six-foot-four, walked into my living room, where I lay with my guitar. I counted the seconds to myself, slowly, wanting time to go by as slow as possible, keeping the stranger away from me.

Step. One. Step. Two.

His steps came down with the down beats of my tempo, too quick for me to match up with, however. Before now, I wouldn't've been afraid of this, I wouldn't've scurried away at the sight of this man's menacing eyes. He was in a black jacket, some tattered jeans, and worn sneakers. He had brown shaggy hair, dark brown-black eyes, and a straggled beard. I quickly slid the house phone from its holder. I put it on, dialing 9-1-1 quickly, making sure I was the only one able to hear the speaker tone.

"There is a stranger in my house," I said, answering the receptionist as he came on.

"I am the stranger," said the man.

"I am alone, no one else is here, and I am afraid."

"Good," said the man, "And my name is Jack Johnson. I'm a serial killer. Nice to meet you... dear, you never said your name."

"Aubrey Winters." I used my sister's name too quickly to remember I had emergency personnel on the phone. "I mean, Koralyn Winters." I whispered my own name towards the phone.

I could hear the receptionist taking notes, obviously realizing the man could hear me although he never noticed who I was talking to. I continued breathing normally, trying to sound brave, but the man continued talking to me.

"Aubrey, how are you today? Are you really that afraid of me?" He asked, looking into my eyes with menacing pleasure. "Are you sure you're alone?"

"My uncle isn't home, my aunt's at work, and I am the only one left here." I cursed inwardly when I remembered that my uncle obviously hadn't shut the door.

"Good. Now, I need you to do something for me." He was playing it cool, and I was breifly glad when the receptionist told me that help should be on the way. I heard the sirens coming up my lonely driveway. Jack sped up his talking. "I need you to drive me on one of your snowmobiles. I need you to take me to that convenience store down the street, in a way that the police can't find me."

I had an idea. I spoke up and made sure that the receptionist could hear me clearly, "Okay, I will. It'll be about five minutes on snowmobile to get to the convenience store on Abbott Road. Let me gear up, which will take another couple minutes, and then we can go."

"Are you sure, Koralyn? I'll let the officers know to head you off there." The receptionist told me, hanging up on her end of the phone. I hit the "end" button quietly as I heard the police back out and into the road. They were going to beat us there, and I was going to hand deliver this guy on a silver platter.