Silent Night, Violent Night
TW: Home invasion, mention of non-con, stalking.
ANNA
The scream echoes against the walls of my bedroom before I realize it’s my own.
My heart hammers in my chest as I scramble out of the bed and tangle in the sheets, then fall to the floor with a loud thud. This is not how one can save themselves when there’s an intruder in their home.
I barely manage to stand up when my bedroom door bursts open and another scream tears from my throat.
The intruder pounces at me, throws me off my feet and presses his gloved hand against my mouth to silence me.
“Shut up,” he growls. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll be a good girl and stop screaming.”
I nod my head as much as I can to show him I understood the unspoken threat.
Clearly, this man is a professional if he’s bothered to wear gloves and that awful mask to hide his features. And professionals kill people, that much I know.
Slowly, he pulls his hand away from my mouth, but he doesn’t get off me. He remains on top of me, straddling me like this is some game for him.
“Shit, you’re so much prettier up close,” he mutters and slaps a hand over his mask, where his mouth is, like he didn’t mean to say the words out loud.
My eyes widen and while I want to ask what he meant, I can’t find my voice and my throat feels as dry as sandpaper.
When he cups my cheek and slowly traces his fingers over my jaw, I go completely still under him.
“That’s more like it,” he whispers, sounding as if in deep thought. “I always liked it best when you didn’t move or speak.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Do I know this guy? No, that can’t be, I refuse even to think that I’ve ever failed to read someone so badly to allow a creep anywhere near me.
A deep chuckle breaks the silence in the room and my eyes focus on that dreadful mask again.
“Oh, yes, you do know me. It’s so easy to read you, Anna. You’re like an open book, even to strangers. Don’t doubt yourself, just stay quiet and keep looking pretty,” he muses and leans closer to me to whisper, “you’ve always looked the prettiest when you’re scared.”
Every instinct inside me screams for me to try to push him off me, but the rational part of my brain keeps screaming for me to stay calm so he doesn’t hurt me.
Stuck between instinct and logic, I remain frozen under the weight of the intruder.
This is not how I imagined Christmas Eve would turn out for me.
“The floor is so cold in your bedroom,” he announces, then to my absolute horror, adds, “way colder than in the rest of the house.”
How… just how does he know the bedroom floor is colder than the rest? Even my parents don’t know that and they visit quite often.
“Let’s get you back in bed, shall we?” He suddenly mutters and gets off me before he lifts me in his arms and lays me on the bed, on the exact side I prefer to sleep on.
“Bet you’re exhausted after the shift in the hospital,” he keeps talking as he pulls the blanket over me.
“You know, I’ve always admired nurses. The dedication to help people, the ability to work for long hours on your feet.
Your feet have to burn like hell. The hospital looked like a battle ground today. ”
I open my mouth but no words leave me, all of them end up stuck in my throat.
Who the hell is this man who broke into my house?
More questions flash through my thoughts, but all of them fade into the deepest, darkest corners of my mind as the intruder casually lays down on the bed right next to me.
I gasp when he throws his arm around my waist and pulls me against him, gripping me tightly.
“This feels nice, doesn’t it?” He says, voice a little muffled against the mask. “To lay in each other’s embrace, enjoy the comfort and silence, eh?”
The only silence I want to enjoy is the one that follows after the cops take him away.
I know I should be losing my shit right now, but as much as it freaks me out, he’s right about one thing—I’m beyond exhausted.
A couple of minutes pass in absolute silence, my eyelids grow heavier against my own will and I almost fall asleep. Almost because the unwanted guest decides it’s the right moment to start talking again.
“Did you see how good I did today?” He asks, catching me off guard.
“W—what?” I manage to stutter out, despite the word getting caught in my throat.
“The guy with the stab wounds from today? That was me. I think I did pretty good. Wanted to kill him real bad, but decided against it because I know how sad you get when you lose patients. I really tried my best to avoid arteries, you know.” He says and nothing but pride laces his words.
While he’s boasting about the accomplishment, my heart stops in my chest for a beat or two.
That poor soul… that unlucky man who cried and screamed in pain as we wheeled him into the surgery was his victim?
I think I’m going to vomit.
The intruder’s grip on me tightens as I go silent and somehow, he manages to shift even closer to me to whisper, “I didn’t wipe his blood off my knife. Wanna see?”
My throat works against my will and a loud gag breaks the silence that follows his words, which only makes him chuckle and add, “don’t be dramatic, you see blood at work every day. It’s not like a bloodied knife would be anything new for you.”
Blood, yes, I see it every day, but not on a knife that was used for attempted murder!
“Hey,” he mutters and squeezes me a little, almost like he’s teasing me. “I just had a thought…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, clearly wanting for me to ask him, so I do exactly that, despite the tremor of my voice. “What thought?”
“We could get real naughty together. I mean, you’re here, I’m here, we’re sharing a bed. Can you imagine the things we could do to each other?”
The sensation of immediate, blood-chilling dread washes over me. It’s not enough that he broke into my house, invaded my most private space and just admitted stabbing someone to near death, now he fantasizes about unimaginable scenarios out loud?
God, please let this be a twisted bad dream, please let this be a nightmare.
“You’re thinking about it,” he whispers, too close to my ear. “Just imagine…”
No, I don’t want to imagine, I don’t want to!
“My tongue,” he purrs, “the things I could make you feel. First, I’d trace it over your skin and learn your body’s reactions.”
As the words roll off his tongue, I hope against hope nothing of those things would happen in reality, he releases his hold on my flesh and runs his fingertips up my side, over my ribs.
“I’d kiss your neck until you’re squirming with need under me. I’d lick, kiss and bite until you’re so overwhelmed with the sensations you’d cry and beg,” he continues, his voice taking on a seductive tone.
“Neck, because that’s the most delicate area of your body. Then, I’d go lower, down to your breasts but not quite yet. I’d take my time, almost to the point of torture until finally, when you couldn’t take it anymore and I’d take pity on you only to barely graze my lips over your nipples.”
I want to scream at him, to push him away and run out of my own house, but I’m paralyzed with fear, scared he might act on his words.
His hand moves from my side to between my breasts, slowly tracing around the shape of them, but not touching.
“Then…” he whispers and brushes his fingertips over my top right under my breast. “I’d trace my lips down to your belly, your hips and finally, I’d move lower and cover your inner thighs with so many love bites, every step would remind you of who left them there.”
His hand grabs my breast and squeezes it, making me gasp.
“I’d make sure my lips have tasted every inch of your skin before I’d reward myself with a real taste of you.
By then, trust me, you’d be soaking wet, dripping with need, a desperate mess begging for release and you know what?
” He whispers and squeezes my breast just a little tighter, but nowhere near to being painful.
“I still wouldn’t give it to you. I’d make you beg for hours on end, I’d drive you completely insane first.”
There’s a beat of silence, then just as suddenly as he grabbed my breast, he releases it and traces his fingertip over my nipple through the top.
“I’d break you beyond repair first, then put you together piece by piece. By the time I’d be done with you, you’d be ruined for any man but me.”
My breath hitches in my throat, but not because I want all of that, I don’t, but because every word he speaks sounds more like a promise than it does a threat.
This man broke into my house with a clear intention on his mind, and now, he’s playing with me like cats do with their prey before they devour it.
My heart rate picks up to the point that all I can hear is the thumping in my ears.
That has to be why I miss the moment he shifts around and removes his mask because I’m completely caught off guard when I feel his lips press against my neck.
A scream tears out of my throat and his hand slaps over my mouth again. “Which part of be a good girl and shut the fuck up you didn’t understand?” He suddenly growls, all gentleness gone from his tone, his hot breath fanning against my skin.
A sound escapes me against his hand, something so desperate my panicking mind can’t come up with a word to name it.
Before I can understand what’s happening, his lips are on my neck again, not gentle as a moment ago, but forceful and rough. He’s not teasing me or kissing me, I realize far too late he’s leaving a mark.
When he finally pulls away, the side of my neck feels like it’s on fire.
“There,” he chuckles, still holding his hand over my mouth. “Nice and visible, just how I love my marks. Now, everyone will know you’re off limits, am I right, Anna?”
Completely gripped by fear, I nod in agreement simply because even in this state, I understand that any form of disobedience might cost me my life.
“That’s more like it,” he laughs. “See, you’re a fast learner when you want to learn. This is exactly how I like my girl—quiet, obedient and submissive. You’re perfect for me, Anna, absolutely fucking perfect.”
Those are not the words I want to hear from a lunatic, not even close, but I still nod again, just to ensure I survive.
I prepare myself for the worst, just in case he decides to act on his sick promises, and assure myself that I’ll be fine, I’ll survive whatever comes next.
But, to my absolute shock, instead of climbing on top of me and fulfilling every filthy promise, he pulls his hand away from my mouth and wraps his arms around me, pulling my body flush against his again.
I lay completely still as he presses his lips to my temple and whispers, “sleep, baby, you’ve been on your feet all day, you need to rest.”
That’s not what I expected, at all. Maybe this is a nightmare after all.
Since the creep doesn’t speak anymore, eventually I drift off.
Hours later, when I stir awake and sit up in my bed, the first thing I do is look around my bedroom. Nothing is out of place, I’m alone in my bed, so finally, I breathe out a sigh of relief.
“Just a bad dream, Anna, it was a bad dream,” I mutter to myself and slip out of the bed.
Entering the bathroom, I focus on the plans of the first day off I’ve had in weeks. I take a quick shower, let my body relax under the stream of hot water and by the time I step out of the shower, I feel like myself again.
Like every morning, I wipe the fog off the mirror with the toothbrush still in my mouth. The sound of the toothbrush dropping into the sink is nearly as loud as my gasp as my eyes focus on the massive, angry-looking bruise on the side of my neck.
My whole body starts shaking as I struggle to rinse my mouth and storm back in my bedroom just to stop dead in my tracks.
Right there, on the pillow next to mine lays a knife, just like he described, still covered in blood. Next to it is a note.
I really don’t want to read what it says, but still act against every instinct and walk towards it. My hands shake so bad, I almost drop the note right after I grip it between my fingers. “I like watching you sleep.”