Misty

Heather can barely see her hand in front of her face as she crashes through the foggy woods behind her house and heads for the open field.

No longer able to breathe freely, she stops and hides behind a tree and listens. She wills her breathing to slow down. She hears nothing. Maybe he has quit chasing her.

The tug on her ponytail pulls her head back, startling her, exposing her throat. She looks into his face and has only a moment to realize that it is over. The knife pierces her throat and darkness descends.

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