Christmas Conspiracy

She slowly stood and grabbed a washcloth to scrub the horrible attack from her body. As the cloth ran over her skin, she imagined his touch sliding away. By the time she finished and dressed in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, the bruised areas were clean and aching even more, but she felt refreshed.

She headed to the foyer table to grab a few aspirin to take the edge off her pain.

She stepped into the family room and something red on the mirror above the fireplace caught her attention. She focused. Spotted big bold letters scribbled on the glass.

A message.

Talk and You Die.

She took a step back, clasped a hand over her mouth. He gaze shot around the room, looking for the intruder. She spotted her favorite lipstick laying open on the floor.

Terror stole her breath. Her throat closed down as if hands had come around her neck and squeezed.

She took another step back. Then another. And another.

She was aware of screams coming from somewhere.

They had to be from her, but she could barely breathe. How could she be the one screaming?

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