Happy Birthday

The sunlight crept into my hospital room, making its way to my bed while the vibrant colors seemed to stretch my eyelids wide apart. I placed my left hand gently on my head, rubbing the large lump, while the throbbing pain hit me like a sucker punch from Mohammad Ali. I had forgotten how sore it was. I lay on the bed with my back on the firm mattress, staring up at the white ceiling, trying to remember how I ended up in this mess.

Two days ago, I was in the club, searching for my friends. It was my twenty first birthday and I couldn’t have been more excited. Even though the crowd of strangers made this task unusually difficult, I figured my friends’ "NBA height" would make them easy to spot. No luck. They must be running a little late. I’ll wait by the door till they get here.

After patiently waiting for thirty minutes, their delayed arrival began work on my nerves. I went to the bathroom to call my friends, eager to fire my “nerve workers". I called Jeffery—went to his voice mail. I called Chris—went to his voice mail. I called Matt—went to this voice mail. I called Greg, and…after a few rings…HE PICKED UP!!!

I completely flipped out. "Don't tell me you’re not going to come, I don't want to celebrate my birthday by myself and you know I'm no good with strangers. PLEASE, you have to…"

"This is the answering machine…BEEP." I held the phone with a firm grip. I wanted to throw the phone against the wall but my common sense fought against my anger. Eventually, my rage was defeated. I walked over to the bar and found a vacant seat next two girls, each with a mouth that ran like a track star. I sat down hunched over, folding one arm over the other.

The bartender walked over to me. "What can I get you, beautiful?" He spoke loud and clearly. When the music's blasting across the walls, any other type of speech is unheard.

I reached into my purse for some cash. "It's on the house." I smiled at him, this time for real. I stared into the dark red liquid. Frustrated, I tried to go over my options. I can wait here till the guys get here…however long that takes. I can try to enjoy this night on my own—not gonna happen. I can try to make some new friends—maybe after a few drinks.

Bored, I decided I would listen in on what the two girls were saying. Two seconds later, I was reminded why I have no girl friends. They’re loud, obnoxious, and full of

I grabbed my drink, pressing the glass firmly against my bottom lip as the liquor traveled gracefully down my throat. I ordered another. From the corner of my eye, I saw a mysterious figure approach the vacant seat beside me I turned my head long enough to have seen him, but fast enough so that he didn't know that I had seen him. In that moment, I was able to capture his entire image in a flash, as if my mind were a camera.

He was tall with a muscular build, and blue denim jeans that were ripped at the bottom. He had short dark hair that resembled the feathers on a crow and a black button up with a fiery skull sewed into the right pocket. He had a long red scar below his left eye and his skin seemed rough, like it had been rubbed against sand paper his whole life. Out of all his frightening features, the one that stood out were his eyes which looked like two bottomless pits.

He sat down, filling the empty seat beside me with a mysterious presence that could give goose bumps to the bravest of men. I grabbed my drink and turned my head away from him, making an attempt to get his frightening image out of my paranoid mind. I held the glass to my lips as the red liquid ran through my body. I was hoping it would calm my nerves. It didn't.

I took my phone out of my purse to see if I had any missed calls—none. I glanced at the time. Ten O'clock. I was growing bored, my friends still hadn't come and there was a petrifying figure sitting next to me. Three strikes, I’m out. I grabbed my purse, thanked the bartender and walked promptly towards the exit. As I neared the door, I could feel someone's eyes staring into the back of my neck as if there were a pair of eyes, hovering

over my body. I turned my head to see if anyone was looking at me—no one. I couldn't explain the feeling, I couldn't prove the feeling, but it was there. I tried to reasoning with myself, hoping I could calm myself down—didn’t work.

Slowly, I clutched the exit door, turning my head back towards the club to see the mysterious man looking directly into my eyes. Instantly, I was filled with two emotions—pleased to see that I wasn't insane, and completely terrified at the scarred figure walking in my direction. I hurried out the door. As I started running, my legs began to wobble and my balance was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t long before I realized the simple equation at hand—alcohol + heels = terrible running. I stumbled over, finding myself in the arms of a security guard.

Everything was in slow motion. It took a while for the words to reach my ears. "I-I-I'm fine," I said, with the stench of liquor on every letter. I looked back to see the eerie figure walking through the exit door.

"Is there anyone who can take you home?” I shook my head. "Would you like me to get you a cab?" I nodded. The mysterious figure frowned disapprovingly, as if he wanted to take me home himself—not gonna happen. The security guard held my body, opened the cab door for me and helped me into the yellow vehicle. I was too drunk to clearly give him the thanks he deserved, so I gave him the biggest smile I had given all night. He mirrored my gesture. He held the top of the door, peered into the cab, and spoke in a soft voice. "You be careful. There's a lot of creeps running around this time of night." You got that right!!

He closed the door, giving me a full teeth smile, which shined through the dark sky like the bright light at the end of a tunnel. I looked out the window, waving my hand aimlessly.

Before long, he was driving down the car-flooded streets where people use their blaring horns and mid fingers as a means of communication. I tried to get the sinister-looking figure out of my head—didn’t work. I leaned against the seat, my body slowly sinking into the soft leather. The fabric seemed to massage my back, releasing the built tension from my shoulders. My eyelids began to droop like I had just smoked a pound of weed, but just as I started to get nice and snug, I was home. The cab driver pulled up to the opposite side of the street.

He extended his empty hand until it was in front of my face. "Five bucks," he said, in a raspy tone. I reached into my purse, pulling out a five dollar bill and generous ten dollar tip. I waited for some kind of gratitude…didn't happen. I grabbed my purse, opened the door, and slowly stepped out of the vehicle. I slammed the yellow door in return for his lack of appreciation.

The wind blew gently against my bare legs as I stared at my house with a smile. I approached the building, step by cautious step, delighted to be home, to be minutes away from a warm bed. Unfortunately, my happiness was instantly replaced with fear the moment my eye caught sight of the terrifying figure sitting on my porch.

Without thinking, I ran. I ran like my life depended on it, because for all I knew, it did. My blood was pumping, my legs were shaking, and my heart was racing fast enough to win the Olympics by a safe mile. I turned my head to see the figure gaining speed. Frightened, I tried to run faster, but my heels limited my velocity. I took them off; throwing each shoe at him, hoping it would slow him down. It didn’t.

Even though I was running faster, my legs were still trembling and I could see the mysterious figure getting closer and closer. I moved down the street, gasping for air, watching each breath carry into the cold wind, praying that it would not be my last.

“Hazel.” Where’d that come from? As I ran, I quickly glanced around to see who had called my name, but the only other person in sight was the mysterious figure. I must be hearing things. I turned my head in horror as I watched the horrific figure repeat my name. “Hazel. Hazel,” he screamed. Who the hell is this guy? How does he know my name?

All of sudden, my foot caught on a crack, as gravity slammed my face into the gray solid concrete. I turned my head in disgust, as I watched a pool of blood stream from my face. The figure grew closer as I made a desperate attempt to rise from the ground and pull my body back on its feet. I couldn’t.

Millions of thoughts flew through my mind. What is he going to do with me? Is he going to kill me? Rape me? Torture me? This is all my friends’ fault. If they had just come to the club, I’d be just fine. Instead, I’m lying on the ground bleeding while some

creep is preparing to do god knows what! I felt my eyes water, tears falling from my cheeks, hitting the pavement like miniature bombs, each drop exploding with pain, anxiety, and most of all, dread. The sadness that filled my vision was soon replaced with darkness as I laid there helplessly on the solid cement, as the warm blood oozed out of my thick skull, as the menacing figure hovered over me with a sinister looking smile, as my tired aching body, completely passed out.

Nine hours later, my dark vision was replaced with a blurry light, giving each eye a fair amount of pain as they opened and adjusted to the brightness. Instantly, I checked my surroundings, praying that I was in my room, that the figure was part of some sick and twisted nightmare. My eyes quickly confirmed that this wasn’t true. I was in place filled with foul odors, dry tears, and a hint of piercing shrieks—the hospital. How’d I get here? Confused, I searched the room, hoping to find some answers. I turned my head, as my eyes stumbled upon a small piece of paper sitting on top of a wooden desk beside my bed. It had my name written large bold letters. I picked it up, turned it over to see my friend Greg’s hand writing on the back of the paper. How does he know where I am? I read the letter, hoping to get rid of my confusion.

Dear Hazel, I know you are very confused about last night and I hope this letter will clear things up. Approximately one month ago, your friends were telling me about a plan they had to get you drunk, take you home and rape you. I could barely believe my own ears, so I knew you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. They asked me if I wanted to join them. I told them I did so I could gain their trust while I devised my own plan to collect evidence. First, I told them the party was going to be at my house. Second, I told

each of them that your mom got you a new phone and that you had a new number so they couldn’t call you. Third, I put audio cassette tapes under each couch so that I prove that they were trying to rape you. Fourth, I sent my brother to the club to protect you just incase one of your friends found you somehow. The tapes are in your mailbox. Hope you’re next birthdays is better.