Her Last Breath by wickedsin

Her Last BreathToweling herself off, Lindsay stepped from the shower and stood in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. Using a fresh towel wrap her damp shoulder-length brown hair in, she gazed into the mirror.

“God I look like shit!” Lindsay silently exclaimed to herself.

In reality, Lindsay was strikingly beautiful. Now working on her second year of post-graduate studies, this 23 year-olds’ body was stunning. Standing exactly five feet tall, she weighed a petite yet muscular 95 pounds. Raising her perfectly toned arm to her face, Lindsay used her delicate fingers to stretch the skin next to her eye, attempting to smooth out barely noticeable wrinkles forming around her eyes.

Taking a deep breath, she again spoke aloud, “I really gotta stop these long ass days!” referring to the full class load and part-time job she worked. As her mind raced through the litany of chores and Christmas shopping awaiting her tomorrow, she slowly blotted her delicate skin, absorbing the remaining beads of water. A cool breeze flowed through the louvered glass window in her bathroom, sending a refreshing chill through her body.

Her week had been hectic. As the two-week Christmas hiatus approached, Lindsay had scrambled to complete two forty-plus page thesis papers and final exams in two other classes.
As she quickly brushed her teeth, Lindsay often wondered if her professors had a secret meeting room where they’d get together and plot, taking wagers to see how long it would take before she was completely overwhelmed. She imagined a make-shift poster-board on the wall, her harried picture pasted in the corner of the flimsy cardboard as the evil professors took turns placing their names on the date they predicted she would lose the battle. She pictured her Strategic Management professor, Carolyn Miers, cackling like a witch as she counted her winnings, correctly predicting Lindsay would lose the battle on the day before the holiday break began. “Twisted bitch!” Lindsay laughed to herself.

Retrieving a bottle of vanilla scented body lotion from the counter-top, she squeezed a large dollop of the silky liquid into the palm of her hand. Slowly, she worked the smooth lotion into her skin, ensuring it was spread evenly over her body.

Stepping from her bathroom to her bedroom, Lindsay was unaware of the stranger watching her every move.

Hitting the remote control power button, her 17” Panasonic powered to life. Even before the picture illuminated the screen, Lindsay knew it was 11:35 P.M. as she heard the easily recognizable introduction to The Tonight Show.

Lindsay found herself reminiscing to her earliest memories of the popular show intro. Her father never missed an episode. Often, as she slept, she was awakened by her dad’s roaring laughter as he watched the show night after night.

She recalled how disappointed her father had been when Johnny Carson stepped aside and handed the late-night torch to Jay Leno. Despite his displeasure, he continued to watch. In no time, he adjusted to the transition and before long, he came to accept the change.

In a sad twist of irony, her father passed away the same month as Johnny Carson. For Lindsay, this classic would forever be intertwined with memories of her dad. Although she didn’t share her father’s love for the show, it always made her think of her dad.

She did her best to suppress the sadness of her father’s passing not yet a year ago, Lindsay selected a pair of navy blue cotton boy shorts and a white cotton baseball jersey with blue sleeves to sleep in.

As she slipped the shorts over her feet and up her muscular legs, Lindsay was unaware of the stranger studying her every move.

Making one final trip through her house, Lindsay confirmed all the doors and windows were locked and turned off the porch light. She beamed with a small sense of accomplishment realizing she’d be in bed before midnight, an hour earlier than she’d retired the previous four nights. Or so she thought.

As Lindsay walked down the short hallway to her bedroom, she heard the familiar sound of her cell phone vibrating on the bar-top that separated her small kitchen from the dining area.

“Who’s calling this late?” Lindsay wondered as she did an about-face and strode into the kitchen.

As always, Lindsay looked at the caller-ID before answering. Screening calls had become a societal norm and Lindsay was no different.

It was Kelly, her best friend.

Lindsay answered the phone. “Whassup Kel?”

“Hey bi-autch!” Kelly began. “Whaddya up to?”

“Getting’ ready for bed!”

“What a wuss! It ain’t even midnight yet!” Kelly said playfully.

“I’m tired! Long week,” Lindsay sighed to indicate her physical and emotional exhaustion.

“I’m sorry. Just wanted to see what time you wanted to hit the road tomorrow?” Kelly asked.

“Pro’bly ‘round eleven-ish. I need to sleep in.”

“Mm’kay, pick me up at eleven?” Kelly inquired, verifying the time.

“Sounds good hun. See you tomorrow!”

“G’night Linz,” Kelly’s nickname for her friend of nearly 18 years.

“Night” Lindsay said as she folded her cell phone closed. With that, she made her way to her bedroom.

Out of habit, Lindsay closed her bedroom door behind her and flipped the switch to the ceiling light. Taking a second for her eyes to adjust to the darker conditions, she climbed into her bed. Lindsay contemplated whether she should get under the covers or not. She knew she’d be cold as the night progressed but right now, her bedroom was still warm as the humid moisture from her shower thickened the air. For now, she decided, she’d sleep on top of her covers.

As Lindsay made herself comfortable, the stranger, showing the patience of a well-disciplined hunter, had settled in, awaiting his moment to strike.

Taking a few minutes to unwind, Lindsay flipped through the channels with her remote control. “Seventy dollars a month and there’s nothing on!” Finally settling for a late-night re-run of Married With Children, she soon drifted off to sleep.

As Lindsay slept, she was unaware of the shadowy figure looming above her, slowly massaging himself through his dark pants.

Lindsay looked peaceful as she slept. Her damp hair had bled onto the pillow, creating a large wet spot in the shape of her head. Slowly, she inhaled and exhaled as her body drifter deeper and deeper into slumber.

As she slept, the stranger moved closer to her bed. Slowly, each step strategically planned out and executed, he inched closer towards his target.

Lindsay had been asleep for an hour now as she shifted in her sleep. Without waking, she rolled from her right side to her left, not sensing the shadowy figure now only inches away from her. Her mind drifted deeper into unconsciousness as she began to dream. Sequence after sequence of dream scenes flashed across her subconscious sleeping mind.

“Why am I sleeping sideways on a hill?” she asked herself in her dream. Lindsay was dreaming that she was lying on her right side facing the down-slope of a grassy knoll; a grassy knoll covered in thick bluebonnet flowers. At the bottom of the hill, she saw a clown making pottery in a circus tent. Lindsay laughed softly in her sleep, subconsciously amused by her comedic dream’s odd plot.

Her dream hill became steeper and steeper. She felt like she was losing her balance, as if on the verge of rolling down the hill. As dreams often do, changing from scene to scene with notice, Lindsay now found herself slipping from the edge of a 14 story roof.

Startled, Lindsay awoke immediately. Her peaceful dream now in stark contrast to the actual nightmare she was about to endure.
Lindsay hadn’t been sleeping on a hill. She wasn’t precariously balanced on the edge of a roof. Her feeling of being off-balance was actually her mattress being depressed from the weight of the stranger’s knee as he tried to stealthily crawl into her bed.

Stuck somewhere in a state of middle-consciousness, Lindsay’s heart began to beat at an alarming rate. Adrenaline coursed through her body heightening her five senses, a natural physiological reaction to threat of danger and fear. Lindsay screamed as she realized a large shadowy figure loomed over her. As she did, she felt the stranger place a strong hand over her mouth and press down forcefully.

Being held down, Lindsay began to kick and flail violently in an attempt to free herself. His arm was incredibly strong. Lindsay saw the large muscles in his forearms ripple as he pressed his hand into her face.

Striking at him viciously, Lindsay’s fists landed several forceful blows to her attacker’s face but he did not waiver. Her arms thrashed wildly as her attacker swiftly mounted her, his full weight now seated on her stomach.

Lindsay did not have time to react nor did she have the strength to fight the attack. Lindsay felt his body weight crushing her stomach and lower ribs. In an act of desperation, Lindsay clawed at his exposed neck, tightly digging her sharp fingernails into his flesh.

Her attacker groaned as he drew his arm back and, in one powerful sweeping motion back across his body, struck her forearm with his. The force of the blow caused her upper body to roll slightly. Sensing an opening in her feeble defense, her attacker grasped Lindsay around the neck with both of his powerful hands, squeezing tightly.

Lindsay trembled with fear as she realized she could not breathe. She began striking her attacker in the forearms in an act of despair; doing anything she could to dislodge his vice-like grip from her throat.

Her efforts were useless. His arms, now flexed tight and rigid, were unmovable.
Lindsay felt herself being lifted off the bed, her attacker effortlessly picking her up by her throat. Lindsay gagged as her body screamed for oxygen. Within seconds, her brain felt the effects of being deprived of the glucose-rich blood it needed to remain alive.