Time's Up
A low hiss filled Josh Hotz's ears. It echoed off the damp, rock wall of the moist cave he was in.
"Josh," the eerie voice cooed, "whatever are you doing here? It's quite late for a sixteen year old to be out by themselves.
"Who a-are you? What a-are y-you doing?" skin with a fierce grip. The attacker's body wound around, almost seductively.
A pair of strong, unhuman-like hands grasped onto his shoulders, digging into his
"Who knows, you could get hurt. Maybe you're family could, too. There are a lot of things that could happen. Maybe some of those things could be put off, if you just gave me the money now."
"W-what money?" Josh stuttered, fear crashing over him in a tsunami wave. With his teeth chattering, he mumbled, "I-I-I r-really don't k-know what y-you mean."
"Oh. Well excuse me. I'll just go get it from your parents." The voice came again, calm as ever, silently threatening him into really believing there really was money.
Maybe there was money. Josh remembered something from this afternoon. His mother and his father had been whispering in the kitchen right as he walked in. They abruptly cut off their conversation, his mother turning away from his, but not in time to him from seeing the tears flowing from her eyes. His father handed him a small black box, and told him to take it everywhere with him. He obliged, only because the fear in his mothers eyes scared him. On his way to Slice of Heaven, where he was meeting his girlfriend, Alicia, he'd hidden the box in an alleyway. He didn't want Alicia bugging him what was in it, he didn't know.
"Wait, I-I had a box, it may have had money for you." Josh managed to get out, he wouldn't have told his attacker, but he didn't want himself or his parents to get hurt, and he had a sneaking feeling this person wasn't bluffing.
"You had a box? And the box is where?"
"I left it in town, in an alleyway. On Birch Street. I thought it was some pepper spray or something to use as a weapon. Those murders have my mom freaked out." Josh muttered the last part, his eyes growing huge. He looked up at his attacker. "You-what-please, don't kill me!"
A horrible, terrifying giggle came out of the killer.
"Sorry Josh. Time's up. Any last words?"
"Tell-" Josh was cut off.
"Oops. I lied. Last word."
A cry filled Josh's ears. His own cry. He wanted to escape from the pain, to fall into the billowy calmness of death.
An irony smell filled his lungs, overpowering his spicy Ralph Lauren Polo cologne. One hand touched something wet and sticky. Blood. Blood was taking over his senses. He could smell it, taste it, feel it, see the dark maroon in the dim light, and he could even hear it pouring out of his fresh wound. He finally fell into the blackness.