Home Invasion

By Joseph Logsdon

If Walter Peterson had been a little more alert, he could've prevented the burglar from entering his home. Looking for revenge, the woman entered his bedroom. When Walter realized his situation, fear paralyzed him.

"What do you want?"

"Tell me, Mr. Peterson, are you on any pain medication?"

"Why, of course not," Peterson answered.

"Too bad, because if you were, you would be saved a lot of agony," she laughed.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"Well, what do you think I want? I mean, obviously, I didn't break into your house for nothing, right? It's a matter of revenge, I suppose. I have to say, I thought you'd put up more of a fight, I guess I was wrong," she laughed.

"I haven't done anything to you," he cried.

"Oh, come now, Mr. Peterson, we both know that's a lie. Come to think of it, you've lied all your life, haven't you? On the surface, you're just a good-natured citizen, but deep down, you're a monster," she laughed.

"Miss, if you let me go, I'm willing to be generous. You have to believe me, I'm a rich man. I'll give you money, diamonds, anything! So, what do you say, is it a deal?"

"I don't want your money, Mr. Peterson," she laughed.

"Well, what do you want, then?"

"I'll have your finger, for a start," she laughed.

"You can't be serious," he stuttered.

"I'm a very serious girl," the woman whispered as she pulled out a knife.

"Oh, please, be reasonable. Look, whatever I did to offend you, I'm sorry. You have to believe me, I'm a good man. I have a wife, I have children, I have a family! Surely, you don't want to take that away from me?"

"Believe me, they'll be better off without you," she laughed.

Using all of her strength, she pressed the knife into his skin. Before Walter knew it, his finger had been severed from his body.

"So, how does it feel, to be less of a man?"

"I'll kill you for this, you fucking bitch!"

"Now, that's no way to talk, is it? With that attitude, I could keep you alive for months. Oh, you wouldn't like that, would you? You see, Mr. Peterson, by the end of the night, you'll wish you were dead," she laughed.

"What have I done to deserve this?"

"Really, Mr. Peterson, you must be patient. I assure you, when the time is right, you'll know what you did," she laughed.

"Miss, I beg you, don't do this. No matter what I did to you, this is no way to get revenge. Now, if you'll put the knife down, we can talk about this," he cried.

"It's far too late for that, I'm afraid," she laughed.

Unable to move, Walter watched in horror as she plunged the knife into his shoulder. The pain, though great, was nothing compared to his fear. Just the thought of dying, made him feel nauseous.

"My God, I'm bleeding to death," he cried.

"Finally, after all these years, I've gotten my revenge," she laughed.

"What are you talking about?"

"When I was a little girl, you kidnapped me. You held me in the basement for years, but eventually, I escaped. You thought you could get away with it; you were wrong," she laughed.

"You mean, you're Naomi Dickson?"

"So, you do remember me, don't you?"

"Listen, Naomi, I was a different man. I've changed, I swear I've changed! What can I do to make up for it? Surely, you have a price? Of course you do, because everyone, no matter how vengeful, has a price!"

"Well, now that you mention it, I do have a price," Naomi stated.

"Okay, now we're talking," Walter joyfully stated.

"If you can survive this next stab wound, I'll consider your offer," she laughed.

"Oh, come now, that isn't fair, that isn't fair at all," he cried.

"Shush, Mr. Peterson, it will all be over soon," she laughed.

Having nothing left to say, Naomi plunged the knife into Walter's chest, but before she could pull it out, the room went dark. The next time Naomi opened her eyes, she found herself in a shadowy basement. Her leg was, more or less, broken. She was chained to the wall, but that was the least of her problems.

"Shush, it's going to be fine," Walter stated as he stroked her hair.

"Where am I?"

"Oh, you were dreaming again, weren't you?"

"No, it couldn't have been a dream, it just couldn't have," she screamed.

"Let me guess, you stabbed me in the dream, didn't you? I have to say, Naomi, you're getting quite good at dreaming. Maybe, given time, you'll be good at other things, if you know what I mean," Walter laughed.

"Yeah, maybe," she whispered.

The End