Famous Last Words (Part 3)

Note: This is part 3 of this story Part 1 and Part 2 can be found using the links.

Jocelyn was sound asleep, laying on her side. The moonlight shined brightly through her window. The aquarium was no longer in the window. Instead, there was the silhouette of a man climbing through, reaching his hands towards the sleeping girl.

“Mommy help!” He screamed, while at the same time grabbing his sister's arm, pulling her off the bed before the man’s hands could grab her.

He was successful. Jocelyn fell to the ground with a loud thud. Julian then pulled her through the doorway, slamming it behind him.

Suzanne came running down the hall, frantic and still foggy from sleep.

“What’s wrong Jul, what’s wrong?”

“There...there, there’s…” he couldn’t get the words out. Suzanne prodded.

“There’s what? Calm down, what’s there?”

“A man. A man coming in her win...in her window.”

Suzanne suddenly relaxed, thinking it was only a nightmare. Just as soon as she was about to say something she heard a loud noise from behind Jocelyn’s door. She took Julian by the shoulder, placing him behind her as she slowly and apprehensively opened the door.

Crouched on Jocelyn’s bed across the room was Joseph Gilmanson. He had already made it through the window but was struggling to gain his balance on the springy mattress and stuffed animals strewn on the bed.

Suzanne slammed the door shut with a loud scream. Frantically she ran thousands of ideas in her mind. Some of how she would escape this situation, but most were of being kidnapped or even worse murdered by the mysterious and uninvited guest that had just broken in through her daughter’s window.

Luck had surely been on their side that night, as only a few days before, Suzanne had decided to repaint her bedroom. Located outside her bedroom were several gallon containers of paint, which was the only weapon she could think of in her haste to use. More importantly, her bedroom phone was laying on the floor in the hallway they stood in.

Suzanne quickly realized she couldn’t let go of the door handle. Although she was sure the maniac on the other side would easily be able to open the door with a few quick twists of the handle, she would not let go.

“Don’t you come through this door!” she yelled. “You hear me! I have a gun and I will blow a hole through you as big as that window you climbed through you sick sonofabitch.”

Julian stared at his mother, partly in shock, partly confused because all she had were the two hands fiercely tightened around the doorknob.

“Julian,” she whispered, nodding to the phone. “Call the police. Call them now, tell them we have someone breaking into our house. Give them the address. Hurry, go now!”

Julian scrambled to the phone. The phone number for the local police station was written down on the phones keypad. Several numbers were there, but the number for the police was the boldest, as Suzanne used a marker for that number, in the case of, but never wished upon...emergency.

“You don’t have to do that maam,” a voice yelled from the other side of the door. Gilmanson’s voice. “Just give me your car and I’ll leave. Simple as that, ya hear?”

“Don’t you take another step towards this door. I swear to god I’ll shoot you dead. What do you want with my car?” Suzanne could care less what his answer was, just as long as she could hear his voice. This would allow her to know he was still in the room and not trying to escape out the window.

She waited until she heard him reply. Julian was still on the phone with dispatch, but she couldn’t have them wait any longer.

She whispered again, “Julian, take Joss and run across to Mrs. Hattfields house. Hurry. Tell her what’s happening. Go now!” Jocelyn began to cry, not fully understanding if this was real life or a bad dream. She felt her brother’s hand grab hers as her feet began to run below her. To young Jocelyn, it felt like she was a different person. One following her brother to the front door, the other part of her still stuck in the moment, watching it all unfold before her.

Gilmanson stood in the room, contemplating his next move. Should he just scramble out the window and take cover, or should he muscle his way through the young mother and her kids. He supposed she didn’t have a husband or boyfriend in the house or he would have heard a man’s voice. He decided to take his chances with the young mother.

He stood in the middle of the room. He didn’t take any steps, he waited to see what he could hear through the door. All he heard were some inaudible whispers. “I don’t want to hurt no one. I just want your car. That’s all.”

Suzanne watched as the children scurried to the door, open it and begin running through the front yard. She prayed they would get there safely. Of course it was a risk, but either way she played the scenario through her mind, she felt they had a better chance by leaving the house instead of being inside it.

“If I give you my car, how do I know you’ll leave us alone?” Again she didn’t care about his response, she simply wanted to know he was still there.

“I’ll give you my word.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Furious now, Joseph approached the door, slamming his palms on it. “Give me your fucking car lady. You have to the count of ten to let me have it. Ten…” Gilmanson began to count down.

Suzanne felt raging tears filling her eyes. All she wanted was to make sure the kids were OK. That they were safe. I need to keep him talking.

Gilmanson continued counting, she knew any moment he’d begin pulling on that knob and she wouldn’t be able to hold it all night. She felt the knob already slipping in her sweaty hands. She knew she had only one move once he did get the door open, she hoped it would be enough.

“One! I’m coming through now.” He grabbed the knob and with a few hard jerks, it turned all the way. He slowly began to open the door. He was still unsure, but confident enough that the woman on the other side did not, in fact, have gun.

Suzanne let go of the doorknob. She backed up to the wall, hitting the lightswitch, shutting the lights off in the hallway. She heard the knob turning more and more as her adrenaline began coursing through her viens.

She heard the creek of the door begin to peel itself from the paint that made it stick in the warm Florida humidity. That was the sound she waited for.

Without missing a beat she ran at the door with all her might. She hoped the sudden decision would be enough to take the man by surprise. She hoped it would allow her enough force to stun him enough.

As Gilmanson continued to open the door, he began to cock his head to take a glance into the hallway. Just as he was about to get a look, the door blasted him on the bridge of his nose. Everything went white for split second. The pain was instant, the taste of blood was just as fast.

He stumbled backward as the force of the door brought him down on his ass. His head hit the bookcase behind him. He shook the pain from his throbbing face, only to be clobbered on the top of his skull by a silver paint can.

The warm sensation of blood from his split skull began to pour down his forehead, his eyebrows, and slowly into his eyes. The doorway ahead of him was blurry and spinning. He heard the woman scream and her footsteps hastily running down the hallway.

Gilmanson lay there, dazed. The sounds of sirens could be heard faintly in the distance. He couldn’t tell if he was imagining the sirens, or of they were real. He also was just beginning to grasp he got his ass kicked by a young Mother protecting her children.

The sirens began to increase in volume. This caused him to become more aware. He knew he had to get out. Not only had the dumb bitch call the police, but he was sure that by now, the prison was already aware of his escape and everyone was out looking for him.

He approached the window, this time to escape out of it. He was angry with himself. He was so close to freedom he could almost taste it, but now he started to feel the weight of getting caught again.

He began climbing through the window, the sirens were very close now, within a hundred yards or so. As his feet landed on the ground below, he heard the shrieks of several car tires screech in the front of the house. Through the backyard, he could see more flashing blue and red lights approaching the path he ran across only a short time ago.

His only chance was to run to the side of the house and duck into the next-door neighbor's yard. It was a dangerous move, but one that must be taken.

As he crept his way over to the side of the house, he peered his head around the corner. It was clear. It’s now or never, he thought.

He counted to 3 silently and began sprinting across the yard. In the dark he did not make out the chicken wire fence that surrounded the neighbors vegetable garden. Gilmanson tripped falling hard in the garden. He tried to stand, but his feet and ankles were caught in the fence.

“Put your hands on your head and don’t make a move. You’re surrounded. He’s over here, he’s over here,” the officer yelled.

Gilmanson knew he was screwed, he began thrashing his legs attempting to get loose of the chickenwire.

Stay still, and stay down! The voice yelled. He looked at the officer, his gun trained on Gilmansons chest.

“I ain’t going back. You better kill me. I’m not going back.” Gilmanson began to stand up. The officer began shouting, then another. Several officers surrounded him, their flashlights blinding him.

Gilmanson raised his hands to block the light. An officer on the scene who had only been on the force for two months began to fire his weapon. On the officer's official paperwork he noted that he thought the perpetrator had raised his weapon.

Gilmanson heard the first bullet buzz past his right ear, a second by his left, the third hit him in his shoulder. Several other rounds sounded in multiple directions. He heard bullets hitting the ground with a loud thud while at the same time feeling pounding sensations hitting his body. The sounds of bullets missing their mark and hitting the dirt sounded eerily the same as the bullets entering through his flesh.

As Gilmanson lay on the ground, everything moving in slow motion, he saw the silhouettes of a family watching from across the street.

Shadows of a teenage girl and her little brother. A thin woman in a nightgown held a small child in her arms. Their heads all tilted to the side, watching him as the bullets continued to riddle his body.

Each bullet that entered him pulled the vision of the silhouettes closer to him until they were only a few feet in front of him.

It was them. It was his family. They were all there watching this happen to him. Their faces were dark, but he knew it was them.

Suddenly as the shooting ceased he took one last look up at his wife. He could see the glowing edge of a rope noose still around her neck. Tears filled his eyes on his final few breaths.

As his face sunk into the earth below him, he saw her ankles were twisted, and not touching the ground.

As his life began to drain away, he watched the spirits of his family drift away like smoke.

Behind them, now visible to him, was the dark entity that had followed him his entire life.

It watched him through dark, lifeless eyes of black. It waved to the dying man as it slowly disappeared into the darkness.

Gilmanson let out one last dying breath. He whispered, “I told you it wasn’t me.”

The End

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this and I have many more that I am working on. I hope you will follow along on those with me too.

Until next time...