Abandoned Photos

(Trigger warning - physical violance and description of abused women in a small portion)

The wind was blowing fiercely, and dark clouds came in as I walked home from Franklin High school. I didn't bring a jacket, just great. I took photography as an elective class; it's always been a passion. I wanted to make my senior year as easy as possible. The teacher's name was Mrs. Nox, and she wanted us to do an assignment on something abandoned. A place that tells a story in just one picture. I knew the perfect location and headed that way.

I turned down the alley, lost in my thoughts, with my head down. The location was a few blocks from the high school. It's an alley that holds an abandoned apartment complex. It filled the alley with green dumpsters overflowing with trash, and trash littered everywhere. I stumbled over a piece of cardboard, which shook me from my thoughts. I looked up and realized I had made it to the complex; it's a six-story-tall red brick building with busted-out windows and nothing to cover the door from people entering. I looked around and didn't notice anyone, so I walked into the building. The primary office was to the right of the mailboxes for the tenants who used to live here.

I climbed the stairs in front of me to the third floor. Why the third? Not sure. I stopped and opened the door; the hallway was long, paint was chipping off the walls, and spray paint, couches, and trash covered this hall. I snapped a few photos. I looked down at my camera, and they looked amazing. I couldn't help but look around; this place always interested me. I looked around, came across an old film roll, and put it in my pouch. Some rooms had nothing, paint chipping off the walls and busted-out windows. Other rooms had torn couches and rotten dressers. One room had a metal chair and a rope hanging from the ceiling. I instantly grabbed my camera and took a photo. Pictures speak thousands of words. It was perfect for my assignment. I continued to look around, but nothing of interest caught my eye, so I headed out.

I headed to the local Walgreens, six blocks from here, and on my way home. So why not get the film roll I found developed? This town is small, and Walgreens was one of the few stores we had and two blocks from my house, so they knew me pretty well. I always went here to print photos and develop my pictures. Our high school has an area to produce images, but it looked like it would rain, so Walgreens it is.

"Welcome to Walgreens," the girl behind the counter said.

I just nodded in response and headed to the photo counter.

A thin, tall man with dark brown hair and bright green eyes appeared, "what can I do for you?"

I handed him the film roll I found, "I'd like to get this roll developed, please."

He gave me a pen and paper for my information. I filled it out, slid it back to him, and headed to my house.

Approaching the outside of Walgreens, I saw it started raining. Great! No jacket, no umbrella, I was ready for today, not. I jogged home. Sopping wet when I got there. My house is dark grey, with white trimming, two stories, a beautiful garden in the front, and a white picket fence. My mom has a green thumb. I couldn't garden; it was never my thing. I opened the gate, walked up the steps, and stopped to unlock my front door.

I walked down the hallway to my room. I took a new outfit out of my closet, a pair of yoga pants, a long sleeve shirt, rain boots, and a jacket, laid them down on my queen-sized bed and headed for the shower. I changed into my new clothes and went to look for my family. No one seemed to me home, oh well, the usual around here lately. I headed to the living room to watch some TV until they developed my film roll. Hopefully, it won't be raining. Our living room is small, with one love seat, a rocker, a small coffee table, and a thirty-two-inch tv. We weren't rich, but at least we were comfortable.

I pulled open the curtains behind the love seat, and there was a tall man, dressed in all black with a hoodie pulled over his face, standing at the edge of my property. He lifted his head and gestured to his mouth to be quiet. I went to check the door, and he was gone. I opened the door and saw a photo of me in the abandoned apartment. I looked around my house, and I didn't see him. I closed the door quickly and locked it. I turned it over, and it read, the film roll was mine.

I grabbed my coat and an umbrella and headed to Walgreens. I ran inside and straight to the photo counter. A short girl with long blonde hair and glasses came to the counter, "How can I help you?" I wasn't sure if it would still be here, but he couldn't get the film roll unless he knew my name. "I'd like to see if they developed my pictures. It's under the name Twyla." She turned around, started skimming the packages, pulled them out, and handed them to me. "That'll be five dollars." I gave her the cash, shoved it in my pocket, and took off back to my house.

Once I got inside, I grabbed the package out of my pocket and opened it up. It displayed a couple of photos of that abandoned apartment with abused dead girls. Each photograph had a different girl. All of them were blonde and looked about my age. They were all bruised and looked dead. I couldn't tell. Four other girls, blonde, about my age, naked, bloody, bruised, and very much so dead. I started shaking. He saw me. He watched me. He knows where I live. What does that mean for me?

As I stood in the front entry of my home, staring at the photos of these abused girls, my head started spinning with all the possibilities. He wrote a note on the back of the image. The film roll was mine. Did he take those photos? Did he find those girls? Did he abuse them? I started shaking. Do I want to know the answers? Probably not, but was I going to find out probably.

Knocks came fast and hard on my front door. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I hesitated before answering, trying to draw on the strength to open the door. I finally reached for it, swinging the door open wide, but nothing and no one was there.

Expect…. A note.

Bring me the photos and forget you've ever seen them.

Abandoned building - Eight p.m.

Tell no one.

- C

I looked around and didn't see anyone walking away from my house. I checked my watch; it was seven p.m.

I grabbed a pocketknife from the nightstand while I was in my room. My father had given me this pocket knife when I started high school. A five-inch black blade with a matte black handle with grooves for your fingers; as I held it, it felt like my hand molded to the handle perfectly. I shoved it into my bag and headed out of my house.

The sky was still gloomy and looked like it might rain again, but at least the wind had died down. I pulled my jacket hood over my head and set the pace towards the abandoned building I had left just a few hours ago. I didn't tell anyone where I was going; I felt crazy for even doing this. I have already seen the photos, but I haven't seen the man's face, so maybe he'll just let me walk away. I haven't seen too much.

I took a right down the street after I walked up one block. This would put me at the back of the building instead of the front. I figured I could try to scope out the area from the back and maybe have a better chance of heading in and back out as fast as possible.

I may be paranoid, but I feel as if eyes were on me from every direction possible, yet no one is outside in this weather. Two blocks away, my anxiety kicked in. I notice my fingers rubbed together in anticipation. I picked up my pace; I wanted to get this done.

Behind the liquor store was the back of the building. Two homeless men were sleeping against the store walls when I came up to the liquor store. I passed them quietly and needed no more trouble than I had gotten myself. I slipped past the homeless men and stared at the six-story-tall apartments with no door to block people from coming in. Dumpsters overflowed with trash, just like in the building's front. The smell of pee caught my nose.

I couldn't get myself to take a step inside. I just stared ahead with no plan. Without thinking, I shoved my hand in my bag and grabbed the pictures and my knife. I ran into the building entrance, stopped in the hallway, set down the film roll, and walked back towards the door.

As I walked backward, I called out, "I set the pictures on the ground; I will leave now!"

I heard something shuffle behind me, swung around, and there he was, a tall thin man, dressed in all black, hood covering his face. He was blocking the only exit I knew of.

I switched open my blade as he lunged at me and knocked the knife from my hand. I fell backward on my ass and started kicking and screaming, anything to draw attention to this building. He was on top of me in an instant. I felt like I couldn't breathe; I reached for his hoodie to pull it over his face to blind him, but he just slid it off. He was wearing nothing underneath. He was shirtless, and I stared at the man behind the Walgreens counter. The man who developed the film roll, the one who I had seen and talked to the last two years of going into that store.

His eyes narrowed on me; I kicked him right in his nose, turned over, and ran out as fast as possible. I reached the door, and a hand fisted into my hair and slammed my body to the ground. I rolled over, grunting in pain.

He shifted closer to my face, "You are mine; I've been waiting for you." He kept his hand in my hair and pawed at my shirt.

Fear filled my body, I moved my eyes to look at my surroundings, but it was too dark to make anything out. I caught a glare of my knife; it wasn't too far away. I needed to be strategic. I hit the psycho man on the bridge of his nose. He let go of my hair and cupped his nose as blood poured. I moved forward, grabbing my knife.

I ran to the exit and pointed the knife at him. "You messed with the wrong girl."

I turned and ran as I reached the exit. I didn't stop running till I hit my house. I ran through the gate, up to the door, shoved my key in the lock, opened the door, slammed it shut, and slid down onto the floor. It left me shaking and crying after the adrenaline had left my body.

I got to my feet and headed to our house phone in the kitchen. I picked it up and dialed my mom. I explained to her everything that had just happened. She told me to call 911 and that she was heading home.

I dialed 911 and heard a noise from the living room.

"911, What's your emergency?"

"Hello?"

"Are you there?"

"A man just assaulted me; my home address is 2369 Bailey lane; please send someone," I whispered into the phone.

The power turned off, and a massive crash came from the living room. I gasped and ducked down to crawl to hide behind the kitchen table. Loud footsteps came in my general direction. Then they paused. I stopped breathing and hoped my attacker would leave.

I never caught his name at the store, but I always said hi, and asked how he was doing. We had a small talk here and there. Never did he appear as someone, this evil. It's never the people you expect. I feel dumb for going into that building and taking something that wasn't mine, but what's done is done. Now I have to face the consequences.

As I shifted my weight onto my other foot, I lost balance and knocked into a chair. He threw the kitchen table in the opposite direction of the room. I screamed; he snatched me up by my shirt and threw me into the wall, causing me to lose my breath.

Sirens sounded off in the distance. I just needed to stall a little longer.

He walked toward me again, struck me in the face, not once but twice, and threw me onto the ground. He kicked me. I winced and cried out in pain. I got onto my forearms to army crawl away from him, but he grabbed my legs and dragged me back to him. He flipped me onto my back, crawled on top of me, and pinned my hands down under his legs.

Flashing lights followed by the sound of tires screeching filled the air. The sirens continued to blare. Car doors opened, followed by the sounds of voices outside of the door.

"We are coming!" Then a banging sounded on the door.

I looked at him, "You won't get away with this."

His eyes widened, and he bolted out the sliding glass door

I lay there on the ground and sobbed. The front door sounded as if it had busted open. Then everything around me faded to black, and I blacked out.