A bold red nineties phone sat on the moldy end table next to the arm chair. No light shined on it except for the soft reflection from the television, the TV set to mute. I stared at the phone, waiting for the moment. Its red color reminded me too much of what's in our body. The shrill ring sends chills up my spine.
He was coming, and he's never going to call me again.
A blood curling scream startled me and I sprang into action. I grabbed the phone to dial 911.
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