Written by user Icehorses12

I kept my Ruger handgun in the night stand on the left side of my bed. I kept it there to scare the nightmares away. Sometimes at night, shaken by a bad dream, I would carefully open the drawer and grip the cool handle of it.

It made my life manageable.

And tonight is no different, as the darkness hides the face of the man that is threatening to cut my throat, but I can still see the blood drip off the shiny knife in front of him. With shaky arms and weak knees, I point my gun at him. He doesn't move. He just stands there with the knife out front, breathing hard as if I'm actually a tough fight.

We are at a stale-mate. His dark, beady eyes rake over my fragile body like a piece of meat. I need to move if I'm going to get out alive. There's no telling what he will do to me before he kills me. The creep lifts the edges of his mouth into a smile. Before I can react he lunges at me. I'm surprised at the motion and trip over my own feet. I hit the ground hard, banging my head on the wooden frame of my bed. The sound of the knife clattering on the floor gives me slight hope. Not much, though. The gun falls out of my hand and lands a few feet away from me. He grabs my waist and crawls further up my body.

My heart is thumping out of my chest.

I try to scoot away from him. The creep yanks me toward him on the carpet of my apartment, which gives me a rug burn. He slaps his hands around my neck. My nails dig into his hands that are threatening to close the airways that keep me alive. A small, weak shrill sneaks out from between my lips. I pull at his hands, but it's no use. My pulse is ringing in my ears. If only I can reach my gun, then I can get loose.

The creep's hands tighten even more on my neck, blocking all chances of breathing. The salty mixture of sweat and tears runs down the side of my face. With as much strength as I can muster up, I slam my forearm into the creep's elbow. He growls and loosens his grip on my neck. I gasp for air and scoot out of his grip. My knee makes contact with his gonads the next chance I get. His scream pierces my ears making me cringe and smile at the same time. I'm inches away from my gun and he grabs my foot. With the other foot, I kick him in his already crooked nose as hard as I can. He doesn't go far, but it gives me the inch I need. Wrapping my hands around the blood soaked gun, I aim at the man and pull the trigger.

The loud bang of the gun penetrates my ears. I can't hear anything. The creep that was close to stabbing me with the knife is now on the floor, clutching his shoulder. He didn't scream when I shot him, and that's what scares me the most. There's no time to check to see if he is alive.

I stumble to my feet, grabbing the wall for support. The room starts to spin and I press a hand to my temple. I'm bleeding down the side of my face and neck. The rock band tee I wore to bed is ripped down the side, barely hanging onto my body. My only thought is to get out of my apartment and get to the cop that lives down the hall.

I reach for the door, looking back one more time, and point my gun at the creep. He stands, and that's my cue to run. I slam the door behind me, hoping it will stall him. Then I run. Two doors down and I slam my bloodied fists against his door. No answer. I pound some more.

The creep from inside my apartment appears in the hallway, bent, bleeding and furious. His eyes show how angry he really is. They are black with rage. I point the gun at him. The horror of shooting a human shows in my face and the creep smirks at me.

"Isaac!" I scream at the door and pound it again. The door swings open and Isaac stands there in boxers and a bare chest.

"What the hell?" He holds his hands up in a surrender, but all I can really look at is the creep hobbling toward me with record speed. Enough is enough. I fall into Isaac's apartment, straight into his arms. He catches me awkwardly and my body moves on its own accord to shut the door and lock it.

A loud thump on the door has me yelping and jumping out of my skin. My body shakes uncontrollably as I hold the gun, aiming at the door. Somewhere between me pushing my way into the cop's apartment and locking the door, Isaac has his phone pressed to his ear. The gun in my hand is still aimed at the door.

"This is Officer Collins, badge 0412. I need immediate backup to the Rose Garden Apartments. Send Officer Bain," he says into the phone. He holds out a hand for me, "thanks."

All I can think of right now is how in the world did I miss the creep? How did I not shoot him in the head or at least the chest? Tears fall down my swollen cheeks and I break down. My body crumbles to the ground in front of the door that separates me from that creep. The gun falls to the floor. Isaac swipes it the moment it's out of my grasp and goes into his tiny kitchen. The sound of his ringtone blares through the space, and I hear him rummage through a few drawers.

I scream and cry all at once. Pulling at my long blonde hair that is soaked in blood, I curl into a fetal position. Isaac comes running into the room. His hand reaches for my shoulder and I shy away from him.

He's safe. I'm safe here.

"I'm sorry," I tell Isaac through choked sobs.

"It's okay," he gently pulls me into his bare chest and picks my light body off the ground. I feel the cool, stiff material of the leather couch when he lays me down. My body finally aches from the beating I went through tonight. A small whimper comes out with a sharp inhale. He covers my nearly bare body with a blanket.

Isaac disappears into his bedroom down the hall and returns in a tee and jeans, his phone pressed to his ear again. I also see that he is now armed with his own gun on his belt.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," he says and hangs up. A loud bang sounds at the door and I jump off the couch, screams emerging from my lungs. Looking around, I notice there are a few dirty dishes on the end table and a knife catches my eye. I snatch it up and point it to the door. Isaac rushes over to me with arms outstretched.

"It's okay. It's the police and they are here to help. Please put the knife down," he explains to me.

"I-I can't," the fear in which I'm feeling right now doesn't even explain the half of it. I don't want to die. There's too much that I want to accomplish with my life.

"Yes, you can. Look if I don't answer the door, they will bust in and see you threatening a state trooper. Do you want that?"

"No," Another sob, shoulders slumped, and the knife falls to the floor with a loud smack. I jump from the sound.

"Okay. Just sit down. Please," he gives me a pleading look, then walks over to the door. As it opens I see three very large men and my mind flies to the creep in my apartment. Are they here to hurt me? My muscles move on their own and I find myself backed into the far wall. The lamp crashes to the floor and another scream comes out of my mouth, making all four men turn towards me.

Isaac rushes over, grabbing the blanket on the floor to cover my body. I'm hardly clothed. Skimpy lace panties and a ripped tee isn't really considered clothing. You can see everything. I reach for the soft blanket and Isaac wraps an arm around my shoulders. He leads me to the couch. I snuggle into the corner and pull my legs up to my bruised chest, wincing from the pain.

"Can you tell us your name, ma'am?" One of the officers asks.

 "Camy. Uh, Camryn Lucks," I whisper, rocking back and forth.  

"What happened, Ms. Lucks?" The same officer asks. The badge on his chest pocket reads Bain. This is who Isaac requested.

"Someone tried to kill me."