Simple things can become extraordinary only if you let them.

This is the story of someone "ordinary" who, by a tragic event, became so much more. She really was just simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. Truly, it could have been anyone that cold October night.

I had been taking a walk. It was the middle of the week, and I needed a break from studying for my applied math test. I was in a daze walking down the street, the cars quiet when they passed by, not that it was something very common on this inconspicuous country road.

Golden rays of the slowly setting sun shone through my coppery hair that, soon, would be dyed red with my own blood. Another car raced by, sending my hair scattering into my eyes and getting stuck in my lip gloss. I stopped. There was someone following me, footsteps that lingered in the air even after I had already planted my combat boots. I brushed it off, after all I was a person with diagnosed anxiety. Maybe it was just the sound of my own steps echoing off the birch trees surrounding me.

That was my last, and biggest, mistake. But, as they say, hindsight is 20/20.

There was a sudden cuss, I flinched back, not expecting such a loud and aggressive voice near me. They were able to grab a fist full of my long hair in their left hand.

A hand went around my shoulder. I retaliated by sinking my uncut and disgusting nails into the exposed flesh of their hand, so hard that they broke skin. I felt them tighten their hand around my shoulder in suprise.

"They've obviously not been stocking me if they thought I wouldn't try to fight them" I thought, glad to know something about my captor.

Then I realized my situation. I was at the mercy of another human being that most definitely wasn't a model citizen. Most likely possibility was that I was going to become a victim of opportunity, as it was fairly opportune. There was no one for miles and I was small, weak.

"But that doesn't mean I can't give someone important evidence." I mused, determinedly scraping as much skin and blood under my nails as I could without them snapping. They kicked my leg out, forcing me to my knees on the harsh gravel beside this lonely road.

"Stupid bitch!" a grating deep voice spat.

A male, likely over the age of 25, White, from what I can see on my shoulder, and at least one foot taller than my 5'5. Clothing assumed to be a T-shirt and jeans from what I can see from my current vantage point. It was rather obvious that this wasn't his first rodeo, ether, as he didn't seem to be nervous nor did he seem to have any remorse.

I pondered how to get this information to the authorities. Perhaps I could carve it on something, but that would be too easy to destroy if he saw it. Maybe I could scratch it into my leg, as it was exposed and less visible to my attacker? I would have to do it with the hand that's keeping him from ripping out my hair…

I was determined to have him caught, or killed, not for myself but for his other victims, past and future. I could almost see them, shrieking and trying to stop him. They didn't want there to be others like them, someone who had their whole life taken away because of circumstances. I could see them, trying to protect me, guiding me. I wasn't sad to die, I would be fine with it, if I could stop this horrible man from killing anyone else.

"That's a good bitch." He sneered, kicking my thigh again, seemingly just for the fun of hurting me. I felt him place a knife against my throat, his hand in my hair tightening to the point I felt like my scalp was being ripped off. I discreetly moved my arm to scratch through the skin on my thigh to leave as much information as I could get down for those left behind. I was surprised he didn't get suspicious of me not trying to keep him from ripping into my scalp, but he was probably too busy to notice as he tried to unzip his jeans and keep me still.

"I hope I see you in hell." I said in a monotone voice as he finished shucking off his pants.

"Oh, Then the bitch knows where she belongs!" grunted the man, pausing.

"No, but I'm willing to go if it means taking you with me." I explained tiredly, getting ready for the end.

Slice. Drip.

I fall in what feels like slow motion.

Thud.

"Fuck!" Exclaimed the man, panicking.

Footsteps, loud and heavy in the other direction, he was hoping to rape me first and instead got me thrusting my neck into his knife, he probably never had someone react the way I had and didn't know what to do.

" I hope he's not a necrophiliac" I thought grimly, as the world faded to black.