ELEVEN, 2.0

Melissa opened her door without looking, and that’s why the man died.

To be fair, he was zipping down the street pretty fast for a dude without a helmet.

When she saw his body bent and face bleeding on the pavement, she almost screamed in horror.

Then she caught herself, looked all around but no one was near.

She took action, pulled up the man’s body and stuffed him into her car’s back seat.

Not the trunk, the trunk would be too obvious.

Dusk was settling into darkness, so Melissa tossed his bicycle behind the next car and then pulled away from the curb, drove the two blocks towards her apartment building, and re-parked right outside.

She walked to her door, and as she reached for her keys a small cough tickled the hairs on the back of her neck.

Melissa’s shoulders tensed as she whipped around, but no one stood behind her except the deep darkness of her street, lamps flickering off suddenly.

Deep blackness encroached towards her, and she held her breath for a sign, something to reveal itself or be heard.

There was nothing until the soft grey fog of breath puffed out as someone approached out of the darkness behind a bloody outstretched hand reaching for Melissa’s neck to stop her screaming.

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