One day, I’ll find you.
Those five words, the last he spoke to me the day they put him away, are burned into my memory forever. After what he tried to do to me, after the things I saw him do to the other girls, I knew I had to escape. The will to survive was strong, and the desire to put this man – no, this sick, twisted monster – away stronger still. He got careless and my will persevered. I escaped, and made sure he’d never do to any other girls what he did to them, and what he had planned to do to me.
Many refuse to watch an execution given the option. It’s disturbing. Morbid. I have no problem admitting I wanted to watch the bastard fry. He deserved to die and I wanted to see it.
“Any last words?” The executioner’s hand hovered over the lever.
He stared directly at me through the one-way mirror. He knew I was watching. He knew I was there.
One day I’ll find you. Those five words, the last he spoke to me before the lever fell and his body convulsed from the current running through it.
That was months ago and the words still haunt me. I put the book down on my bedside table and turn off the light. In the night I awaken in fear, a tightness clutching my heart and cold dampness coating my skin. The hairs on my skin stand on end. The bedroom is filled with the odor of burnt flesh. I hear the loud thump of his footsteps down hall.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are….”