The Hoffman Family

by Helen Young

What would it be like if Amanda Young and Mark Hoffman had fallen in love, and neither of them died? What if they had gotten married and had a child years after John died? Just a far warning, this is kind of a weird story.

37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37:

Amanda opened her eyes. The bathroom was dark. She pushed herself up to a sitting position. Her muscles were weak. She groaned. Her hand brushed up against something laying next to her. It felt like cloth. Amanda touched whatever it was. An arm. She gasped and pulled back.

The arm wasn't Julie's. There was too much muscle. It felt like…..

Don't! Amanda screamed at herself. It's not! It can't be! It isn't! Amanda's breathing became uneven. She stumbled to her feet, clutching the bathtub behind her. Something smelled so familiar. Perfume? A scent Amanda missed. A scent she took for granted. Jill's scent. Amanda inhaled deeply.

"Jill…." She mumbled, lost in memories. Just then the lights in the room turned on. One row of light at the time. Amanda squinted and covered her eyes.

When she opened her eyes again she screamed. Not because she was afraid. Because it only stopped her from crying. Jill laid in front of her. Pale and lifeless. She looked over to see who she touched earlier. Mark. She screamed again as tears rolled down her face like mad raindrops.

"NOOO!" She screamed. She took a step back and hit something. Or someone. She looked and screamed again. John Kramer.

"John! No, please!" She cried. A few feet away from John laid Linda. A few feet away someone else. Then someone else. Eric Matthews, Allison Kerry, Daniel Rigg, Lynn Denlon, Zepp Hindel, Lawrence Gordon, Cecil Fletcher, Laura Hunter, Xavier Cavez, Adam Stanheight. People she had seen before. People that haunted her dreams.

"You killed them, Amanda." An eerie voice in her head.

"NO! NO! It's a lie! I didn't!" She yelled, clutching fistfuls of her hair. Then one person on the floor. The sight made her want to claw her own eyes out. Her son.

Amanda screamed and flung her eyes open. She was drenched in sweat, he hand stinging. She opened her palm to see Jill's key. It had cut into her skin. Amanda looked around the bathroom. No Mark, no John, or Jill, or Linda. She wiped her forehead and touched her neck. Her throat was raw from screaming. She curled into a ball and cried.

"Mark, please, help me." She mumbled. "Please. Help me."