Errm... Yeah... I be very sorry for not updating in a while. But guess what, I am actually 14 now!!! My BDay was on the 17th of March. WOOT!!!!!

I was almost caught up to my best friends, a couple minutes away. Deciding to do a full sprint, I waved my skinny arms at them.

"Heyaaaas!! Thanks for waiting!" I called to them. They turned and looked at me, noticing a little red on my purple Jr. Royals uniform. Both of them squinted to see what it was, and, to their surprise, it was blood.

"Renee, you slut, look at your uniform!" Bobble said, pointing to my left sleeve. I set my photo album down and fidgeted with my sleeve until I could see what they saw. Licking my fingers, I wiped furiously at the red mess, but it wouldn't even clear. At first I thought it was from some scratches I got when he threw me on the ground, but then I realized it was blood from my head. In fact, I didn't even have any scratches on my lower body!
'The blood on my pant legs must have been his blood,' I assumed, trying to rid the blood once more. Nope. Still there.
My friends asked me what happened, grasping my arm as if I were about to die. I was going to tell them the truth, but realized several terrifying and scarring thoughts held me back. Besides, two things might happen; First of all, they would think I'm nuts because we all agreed that stuff like that would never happen to us. Second of all, I don't want to skrew up the sleep over and frighten them. So I decided to stick with a simple lie.

"I fell and bumped my head on the counter," I falsely explained. "Nothing big, just a bloody bump. It happened before."

"WHEN RENEE WAS! A YOUNG IT! IT'S FATHER! TOOK IT INTO THE CITY! TO SEE A MARCHING BAND!!!!" The two randomly sang. I giggled and slapped them both playfully on the shoulder... That's when it hit me... Like a puck in the face...

"MY GAME PUCK!!!" I shouted, dashing back to Wawa. My friends tried to grab my arm, but I was way to fast for them to even swipe at.

"Renee! Stop!" Becca called, chasing after me. Bobble, too, decided to follow, leaving all our purchased item unattended.

-

I reached the back of Wawa in less than two minutes, gasping and panting for air like a cocker spaniel. My forehead and back was drenched in sweat, just like after a hockey game or practice. The first thought that popped in my head coach Eric shaking his head in slight disappointment every time I would skrew up a play or practice drill. That's when I realized that I was absolutely no help to our 19U team, and stared down in self-pity.

"I'm going to take a break from hockey..." I said to myself. I loved hockey of course, but why should I ruin the fun out of others if I just get in the way?
Setting that outside, I started searching for the puck, but realized that it was completely gone. At first I assumed that the maniac took it, but then realized that it was a silly thought. Then again, who else could have noticed the puck there, so I jumped to the conclusion of the maniac stealing the puck.

"But why?" I said aloud. Suddenly I heard foot steps behind me, about 10 feet away. I spun around to see the maniac tossing the prized puck gently up and down, letting it fall hard in his hand. He stared at it for a couple seconds and smirked evilly. His cold, dark eyes made me shudder, a cold sensation tingled in my spine. I pondered at what he was doing, but as he began laughing menacingly I knew what he had planned. I knew what his intentions were, like I was some sort of mind reader. A full speed, I started fleeing the area.

"Penalty for roughing!" He shouted before chucking the compact object at me. His aim was clear as crystal, and, to me, it felt like a crystal. I fell hard on my stomach, feeling a sharp pain in my back. Worried that he would strike again, I struggled to get back on my feet and get out of his sight as fast as I could possibly run, but my body refused to pull me up. All I could do was stare up at the maniac who, before, tried to kill me.

"Hmmm... Some hockey player you are," he started, picking the puck up again. "I thought you would put up more of a fun, just like our last little encounter. By the way, thanks for this lovely puck. It really came in handy... What's that? You want it back? You really want it back?... Well only because you say so!" With that, he brought his arm back above his head, and flung it forward like a slingshot, Before I could even attempt to roll out of the way the puck made harsh contact with my head.

"Uhhhhnnnnnnn," I moaned in pain. Struggling to state conscious was pointless, so I decided to just let my body go into darkness.

-

-

What seemed to be a couple weeks only turned out to be a couple hours...

I opened my eyes slowly, seeing nothing but blurs and unfamiliar surroundings. I was unable to rub my eyes since they were pinned to the wall with tight shackles. Closing my eyes tightly, I tried to remember where the last place was and what I was doing. More importantly, I tried to remember how I came to be in this place.
When I opened my eyes again my vision seemed gone, but it was only because of the darkness in the room. I sighed in relief and let my eyes adjust for a couple minutes. As I did, I remembered back to a strange guy throwing an object at me and saying something about death, but everything else was a pure blur. I tried harder, but my head ached too much and the effort to seem worth it. What was important was figuring out where I was presently.
When my eyes finally adjusted I realized that I was in a medium sized room with hard walls and wooden floors. The concrete walls, smudged in blood stains and covered in cracks, appeared to have graffiti on it. I tried to read it, but it was too far way. Plus the fact that I have bad distant vision.
Looking down at the floor, I noticed many unusual and bloody objects about 5 feet away.

"What the hell?" I said to myself. I squinted at the objects to see some of the detail. I noticed a crescent-shaped blade attached to a long wire. My eyes followed the wire, seeing that it led to an electrical outlet. It wasn't plugged in, though, but my eyes widened in horror. My stomach churned, feeling as though my insides were going to burst.
Suddenly I heard footsteps coming down from a flight of stairs. They got louder and louder as they approached. Sweat rolled down my face; my breathing was very choppy, almost caught in my dry throat.
The door on the other side of the room swung open, and the familiar man entered.

"Perfect! You're awake," he said, rubbing his hands together. I playful, but maniac smile was spread across his sickly colored face. I looked at his eyes, realizing that he must have never been able to sleep much. His hands, protected by dark gloves, had fingers like claws and his steel-toed boots went along just as well.
His dark shirt and long, black jacket had bloodstains that didn't seem so recent. Jet black hair that was shaved around his head had a lot of grease in it, making it almost look like oily grass.

(author's note: I am really bad I giving descriptions, let alone spelling the word 'description'. Just continue the story, and be a happy cabbage.)

"What are you going to do?" I blurted out. Honestly, I didn't want to find out, but seeing as he was going to start what ever he was going to do I wanted to stall him. I feared pain more than anything else, even drowning!

"Well, I'm glad you asked," he replied. "Just going to try out this new 'shocky blade' I got at Radio Shak. I've been wanting to use this for weeks."

"But that'll kill me!" I exclaimed.

"Well, isn't that a plan!... Well, actually you're kind of wrong. It'll only be extremely painful, but still, I think you would rather die a quick, painless death than a slow, painful death."

"No shit, Sherlock! What's next? I suppose you're going to rape my dead body when you're finished?!" I spat, giving him the finger. It looked a little goofy, though, since my hand were shackled above my head.
He gave a look of disgust, his left eye twitching madly. I could tell that I really set him off.

"WHY I NEVER, OUT OF ALL THE IGNORANT SHIT, HEARD SUCH AN INSULT AS RUDE AND UNCALLED FOR AS THAT!!!" He hissed, slashing me across the face with his claw-like fingers. I whimpered in pain, flinching as he swung his arm back to back hand me. The impact felt was very hard for a guy that was very skinny. Blood poured down my cheek while a large red mark formed.

"YOU WRETCH, I'M NOT THE TYPE THAT INTERACTS WITH SEXUAL STUFF LIKE THAT!!!" He bellowed, his face about two itches away from mine. "I may have recently had sexual fantasies, but I would never let it get outside of me. Hell, I find the filling in a Twinkie disturbing enough. I don't need some annoying little bitch calling me a rapist."

"Well, sorry for bursting your bubble, Mr... Um..."

"Johnny C, but call me Nny," he mumbled, reaching down to examine his new 'toy'.

"Ok then, Nny. I'm sorry for assuming you were a pervert, but may I ask why you are hurting me like this? I mean, I know I hit you in the groins several times and stuff, but I had a leginament reason for my actions. Hell, I even felt guilty and offered you help, but you kept on battling!"

"Well, maybe if you and your girl friends weren't so annoying I wouldn't have done this. See? I have a reason too!"

"But I apologized! Not just now, but even back there! What more do you want from me?" My eyes were burning, almost on the verge of tears.

"Well when a 17 year old hits you in the penis repeatedly then I'm pretty sure you would want revenge," he replied, plugging the electric blade in. It made a slight spark, but that was it. Hitting a button on the blade, the man grinned and faced me again. "Fun!" He said, walking towards me, dark eyes locked on mine.

"No! Don't! I said I was sorry!!" I screamed. "I... Wait a minute... Did you just call me 17?"

"Don't play dumb," he said, about to jab the blade in my left arm.

"I'M SERIOUS! I'm not 17!! Why would you assume that?!"

"It's obvious!!! The way you look, except for your height."

"I'm 13, you dolt!!!!! 13!!!!"

"My ass!"

"It's true!"

"No it's not."

"Yes it is! Here, look in my coat pocket. It should have my Jr. High ID card." The maniac rolled his eyes and turned off his new toy. Carelessly dropping it, he reached into my pocket and shuffled his hand around. When he finally felt it, he pulled it out and scanned it, mumbling the information to himself. Pausing, his eyes widened and slowly looked at me, then back at the card.

"Jackie Bauman: Age 13: Grade 7..."

"See!!! I told you!"

"Ok, whatever!" Johnny growled, throwing the ID card back. "I usually don't kill people who are 15 or younger, but you really got on my nervers. Not just you, but your little friends as well." He thought for a moment, pacing back and forth slowly. I remained silent, too scared to speak to him. Instead I tried to think better thoughts, such as flipping off my math teacher when I thought she wasn't looking. The thought made me laugh out loud a little. I tried to keep my giggling down to a squeak, but it was too funny.

"What are you laughing at?" He asked, looking up from the floor.

"Sorry, I was thinking back to what happened earlier in school," I replied, letting out a final giggle.

"School sucked, although I was really good at math," he said, getting into the conversation. "People always started shit with me, calling me Noodle Boy and other fucked up nicknames."

"I almost understand your pain, but mine not might be as worse. People call me Doodles because I would never stop drawing. I loved to draw, and I'm very good at it... But even though my drawings made me very happy, others would find a way to make me cry... It really hurts, and hardly anyone except my friends cared... But I'm trying to learn to just fuck the world; forget what everyone else thinks and what I think. I know, I sound crazy, but I believe that self philosophy."

"I don't think you sound that off, but it's hard to fuck everything else if people keep shoving rude comments up your ass. And, trust me, it's hard to ignore... Well I'm going to go upstairs and think of whether or not I should kill you." He turned to walk out the door, first unplugging the shocky blade. He was about to close the door, but I stopped him.

"Wait, can you keep the door open so a little light will seep in. I'm kinda affraid of the dark." There was a moment of hesitations for him, but he soon gave an answer.

"Fears come from the mind and make them seem real to you. There's nothing to be affraid of... But if it really makes you feel better, I'll keep it open a foot." With that, he turned away and walked out of the room.

Sorry for the long wait. I rarely ever update, btw. So... yeah... IM NOT QUITTING, but it always takes me a while.