13

13 years of age and I've never seen a horror movie. Pretty ironic that I was now facing a situation too horrific to be classified as scary- more like utterly terrifying. An 8 year old girl stood before me, icy-black hair, wet, and completely blank face. Despite the white canvas in this girl's eyes, I could still read this child's intentions. Now I ain't no Sherlock Holmes but seeing someone clutching a bloodstained carving knife and heading your way usually means you're in a whole lot of trouble. I tried to run but my limbs were paralysed with fear. She had me cornered, the blade held high above my heart, casting shadows across my form. As I closed my eyes to accept the end I heard a noise. I opened my eyes again, expecting to see the porcelain face of my killer, to be stunned by the realisation I was halfway across the room, staring at the china doll lying broken over my dead, weeping body. The scream that poured from my lungs lasted the eternity I spend reliving my murder over and over and over...