On a bustling Friday night, I slip my feet into a beaten up pair of bowling shoes. They are a little snug around my toes, but I am more concerned about the birthday crown resting upon my head. I get up to greet my party guests as I search for the perfect colored bowling ball. I finally spot a soft pink marbled ball and cradle it while making my way to the lanes. I make my playing debut and knock down nine out of the ten pins. I feel a smug look creep onto my face as I trot off through the cheering crowd. After we cycle through the game and each take a few turns, my best friend, Lilly, nods towards the cake and picks up the pack of candles that was sitting adjacent to the accumulating pile of precisely wrapped presents. I grin and then pull on her arm.

“Come to the bathroom with me real quick!” I ask with a quick tug of her sleeve.

“I need to fix my hair before I am photographed!” She shook her head and refused. I begged her and tried to use my gift of persuasion to my advantage, but it proved to be useless. She turned and ran off towards the other side of the table to assist with the jamming of the candles into my cake. So I slumped off to the bathroom unaccompanied, my sigh muttered by the rambunctiousness of toppling pins and genuine laughs.

I open up the door labeled with a female depiction and station myself in front of the mirror. I turn the knob on the sink and let the water trickle over top of my hands. As I run my fingers through my hair and adjust my fly-aways, I hear a sound that doesn’t quite fit. At first, I just assume that some lucky player has scored a strike, but the outbursting screams and eruption of chaos motion otherwise. My eyes widen and I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand. Two more loud bangs come from outside. The realization of the situation sets in when I feel the terror of the breeze that swings open the bathroom door. My instincts set in and I find myself ducking into the first stall.

“Are you still in here? Please, help me.” I hear Lilly’s voice whimper. I peer out from the crack between the stall door and the wall to see blood running down her leg. I dart behind her, close the bathroom door, and then turn off the light. Even in the dark, I still have the vivid picture of crimson drilled into the back of my mind. Lilly slides down the wall and sets herself upright against the grimy aged tiles. I slip off my jacket and hand it to her to tie around her thigh in an effort to put the bleeding to a halt. Her face is pale with worry and her hands are trembling, just like mine. I know that if there is any hope of us being saved, I have to contact the authorities. As quietly as possible, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial 911. My wrist trembles as I raise it up to my ear, waiting impatiently, even though I am not sure I will even be able to explain the situation to the operator. My thoughts are scattered and I find it hard to concentrate on any one specific thing apart from the quickening thumps in my chest.

The monotone sound of the ringing was it. My heartbeat echoing in my ears sought out my darkest fear. What was supposed to be a day of celebration and happiness has taken a deadly and dreary turn. The doorknob turns and a beam of light triumphs it’s way atop the decrepit bathroom floor. I felt the presence of a black silhouette. Horror overtakes my body. There is no where to go. We are helpless. All I can do is mouth the word ‘please’ with tears dripping from my eyes. However, there was no mercy that was to be given that day. I felt a sharp pain hit my chest. My knees collapse and I find myself sprawled out on the floor. As my vision begins to blur, I hear the operator pick up.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“It’s been handled.” A deep voice says, followed by a beep indicating the call was dropped.