Give Me Your Best Scream

Sunday, April 8, 2007 10:48 p.m.

It was April 8th, a Sunday night, and Michelle Sterri was at home late while her parents were out for the night. It was a three day weekend and she grabbed the popcorn out of the microwave, preparing to watch a scary movie.

The lights were turned off and while she just pressed the play button on the remote, her time alone was disrupted by the ringing of the phone.

She walked over to her kitchen and picked up the house phone. "Hello?"

On the other end, the voice seemed to be deep and unfamiliar. "Hello."

"Um, who is this?" she asked.

"Why would you want to know?" the voice said.

"Because why else would you call me?" she rolled her eyes. "I'm not even sure if I know you.

She set the bowl of popcorn down and began closing the blinds of her windows, along with the curtains. Michelle also flipped the light switch, making her living room and kitchen bright.

"Oh, I know you," the voice chuckled. "I know a lot about you."

"Yeah right," she laughed. "Then tell me your name."

"I don't think so," the voice told her.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Tell me your name," the voice continued to sound eerie.

"This is a joke, isn't it?" she began to chuckle again.

"No," was all the voice replied. "It's not a joke at all."

Michelle simply just scoffed. "It has to be a joke. Your voice sounds pathetic, the threats aren't scaring me, and if this is a joke, then you suck at pulling one off.

The voice began to sound impatient and angry. "Listen, you better shut your fucking mouth and stop laughing or else I'll cut off all that damn blonde hair of yours."

Michelle froze. How did he know she had blonde hair? He definitely didn't sound like a classmate and his tone was serious. Somebody was trying to freak her out and it was unfortunately was working.

"Look," Michelle spoke into the phone again. "I don't know who you are, you jerk. But you better leave me alone." It was a pathetic threat she gave, but what else would she say while being scared out of her mind?

"Go ahead and call the police," he still continued to sound threatening. "You can't fucking do anything else...Michelle."

Her heart began beating faster every moment and she immediately hung up. He knew her name and he knew what she looked like. Somebody was stalking her and it wasn't anything fun to laugh about. She looked around, being paranoid of all the noises around the house.

Door after door, she began to lock any possible entrance in the house and started panicking. Again she checked outside her windows, including her backyard, making sure no one was near the pool. When she entered the kitchen again, she reached for a butcher knife and held it firmly.

The phone rang again and her hand trembled as she held it in her hand and answered it.

Already, the mysterious voice nearly yelled. "Do you think you're gonna kill me with that knife, you fucking bitch?"

"Where are you!?" she yelled back with tears coming out of her eyes.

On the other end came laughter and it sent chills down her spine. She swallowed hard and sweat was on her forehead.

"You'll see," he whispered.

She was breathing harder and leaned against the wall, looking around nervously.

"I'll be right there, ready for you."

Now she was panicking more than ever and hid near the door, hoping to attack him with her own surprise. But she wasn't really sure if she could.

He didn't come through any of the doors. Instead, she was attacked by the many shattered pieces of glass that came from the window where a chair from th front porch was crashing through. The pieces of glass hit her face, cutting into her lips, cheeks, and mostly her eyes.

Some glass had gotten into her eyes and her eye sight became poor as blood dripped from her eyes like tears. The only thing she could do was run out of the the house and take out her cell phone to call help. She ran down the street, doing everything she could to escape. Another house was far down the street and she ran through the tall grass field surrounding the house, hoping to reduce her chances of being seen.

Eventually, she ran out of breath and stopped in the middle of the field and ducked down to crawl. She heard some rustling through the grass and a dark figure was walking through the field, a short distance away from the frightened girl.

As he walked closer near her, she crawled farther away, praying not to be found or stepped on. Her hand was clamped over her mouth so her breathing wasn't heard.

Once she thought she was far enough from him, she closed her eyes and reached into her pocket for the cell phone. Her vision was still blurry from glass and her hands were slippery from blood on her hands, making her call for help even more difficult.

The girl looked around and saw nobody in sight. She quietly told herself that it was probably over and he maybe had given up. Her legs were then suddenly yanked and she was being pulled across the grass. She screamed and dug her nails into the dirt, but he pulled harder and her nails were chipped and broken off of her finger, leaving a trail of blood.

Michelle was about to let out a scream, but his hand covered her mouth and he pulled her by the hair. Suddenly, he took out a knife and sliced it through her wrist, making crimson liquid splatter over the weeds.

She fell to the ground again, clutching her wrist and moaning in pain. Her cell phone was covered in dirt and she tried to reach for it, but he pulled her again and ran the knife across her stomach.

As she held her wrist and her stomach, crying out in small breaths, she got up and backed away from the killer, looking at someone in a mask and dressed in all black. The sight was still cloudy and she couldn't tell who he was. From her loss of blood, she got lightheaded and fell on her back.

The figure grabbed her by the neck and she gasped for breath, squirming her body through his grasp. Her attempts failed and he pierced the knife into her chest numerous times.

With her last ounce of air, she reached up to grab the mask and managed to slip it off of his head, revealing the face of her attacker.

His face was the last thing she saw before the knife came down and slit her throat.

"Michelle?" Mrs. Sterri called through the empty house followed by Mr. Sterri right behind her.

There was no response and they thought she was asleep, but the TV was still on, flashing in the darkness. The bowl of popcorn was on the floor, scattered all over the place and their patio chair was now dented and broken in the middle of their living room.

When they walked through the living room, they looked down at the carpet where the broken glass lay. Mrs. Sterri gasped and put her hand over her mouth. "Who could have done this?"

Mr. Sterri came down from upstairs and rushed to his wife. "She's not in her room."

"Somebody broke into our house!" his wife yelled. "Michelle must have been taken!"

They began searching throughout the whole house, but found their daughter no where.

Both of the adults went around to the backyard, hoping to find Michelle there, but as they walked around, a few drops of liquid had fallen onto Mr. Sterri's forehead. He wiped it and looked to find blood on his fingertips. He stared at his hand in disbelief until he heard his wife let out a scream.

He ran over to his wife on her knees, crying and hysterical while looking up. Mr. Sterri looked up to where his wife's gaze was and he looked at the sight in horror.

Up on the trellis was their daughter, her lifeless body tied and hanging with blood dripping everywhere.

Especially from her eyes.