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Chapter 32 by Mngwas Mngwas

How Does Sarah Meet that Remark?

Defiance

Sarah fought as hard as she could and despite the suffocating, scream inducing needles that drove into her airways, she managed to **** out her own response.

“Fuck… you. Get… out.” She rasped. Again, the hint of surprise twisted the placid demeanor on the stranger’s face in the form of a furled lip and creased brow.

“Very well then. Consider yourself warned. Please, for your own sake Sarah, do not get involved. I humbly beg of you.” The stranger replied. Like hell he did. This wasn’t a warning it was borderline ****. She felt her muscles flex and tension against the weight and yet there was no physical **** to fight against. It was as though the signal’s her mind sent her body registered but somehow did not compute into the real world and it was equal parts horrifying and frustrating. The stranger stood abruptly, which would have caused Sarah to jump had the situation allowed and checked an invisible watch. Checking this way and that, as though someone else might appear at any moment, the stranger nodded at Sarah and seemingly followed her command. As he crested the frame of the door, she could hear the swirling, grating sound of gravel underfoot as his trek down the driveway began. Just as the sound of his footfalls diminished in volume so did the **** weighing Sarah down.

The moment she felt the invisible hand gripping her heart loosen even a fraction, she was on her feet. Now able to find her bearings, she began to sprint, using the adrenaline to power through the residual burning in her throat as she bee lined for the loft where her phone sat leering at her by the chair where she was sitting earlier. She jammed her fingers against the lock button the requisite amount of times to hear the heart stopping blare of the ‘emergency call’ feature and dashed over to the guest bedroom, which overlooked most of the front yard. There was no trace of the stranger. He was gone. The whole thing was like a nightmare and it had barely even finished. His words about Doyle reverberated throughout her head, slaloming between the pillars of abject fear and a strange, morbid desire to know more.

Does the 911 call yield any fruit?

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