Lost

For months after I was killled, people called me the "Lost girl." It wasn't until I'd been gone a year that people actually said my name again.

I remember that I was still moving when he- or she- dumped me in the river. I remember hitting my face on a jagged rock, the blood in the water, then nothing.

A shrill scream, blood-curling, pierced the night air, making my eyes fly open.

My face stung. I lifted a shaking hand to my cheek and pulled it back. My hand was completely covered in blood.

The scream came again, and I heard, a while away, two pairs of footsteps runing. But I only heard one scream, distinct. The other sound I heard was heavy panting and grunting.

A chase. I thought.

I tried to stand, but I couldn't move my legs. The sounds came closer, closer, I could actually see the leaves and branches being pushed asaide by the screaming girl, but then all I heard was a small thud. A small scream, then nothing.

My eyes rolled back in my head, and I slipped.

Something nudged me. My leg. I slowly opened my eyes and looked down. I could barely make out a shape in the water.

The eyes were what made me scream, sure, they were rolled back inside the haed, but. . . .

Oh, I am so not telling you.