i recently wrote this short horror story for a project in school. enjoy!

✧･ﾟ: *

11:07 PM.

"Man, I'm tired," Ellen sighed as she glanced over at Andrew and hung up her Chanel coat.
"I know, Michael sure likes to talk," Andrew laughed as he walked further into the kitchen, undoing his tie.

"Oh I know," she laughed from the living room. "What is it with him and golf?"

"Apparently he's played it his whole life," he paused, grabbing a shot glass from the cabinet above the stove. "He asked if I wanted to go to the driving range with him sometime. It's a real honour considering he never took his employees golfing when I worked for him."

Ellen suddenly appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, "Well, I mean, you don't work for him anymore. You two are more like colleagues than converses."

He smiled at her and nodded.
She smiled proudly, walking over to him. "Look at you—my handsome, successful husband. Aren't I lucky?"

He grabbed a bottle of brandy, and poured some into the glass. Afterward, he sent her a smile. "You bet," he replied.

"I'm gonna shower and then go to bed. Are you coming?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his torso.

"No. Not yet, I've got work to do. I just got a new case and I'm going to look into it first. I'll be there soon," he answered, taking a swig of the hard liquor.

"Okay," she kissed his lips before leaving the kitchen.

He raised the glass once more before he stopped mid-air when the telephone rang.
"Honey, would you answer that?" Ellen's voice rang from their bedroom.

"Alright," he answered before placing the glass down on the granite countertop and making his way toward the landline on the wall.

He picked the phone up and raised it to his ear. "Hello?" he asked in a monotonous voice.
"Andrew Wilson?" The other voice whispered eerily.
"Yes, this is he. Who am I speaking to?"
"What are you up to tonight?" the other voice asked, ignoring his question.
He stayed silent for a moment. "Who is this?" he inquired again.
"You answer my questions, and then I'll answer yours," the voice demanded.
"Look, if this is supposed to be a joke or a prank call then I am just going to hang up. I really have no time for this," he retorted, becoming increasingly angry.
"How's your wife? Ellen, is it?" the voice continued, not paying any attention to his outburst.
"How do you know my wife?" he demanded.
"I know your daughter too," the voice mused.
"How do you know my daughter? What do you know about her?" he asked.
"Well, I guess you could say we know each other pretty well."
"That's impossible.. She's—"
"-dead?" the voice finished.
"What is this? What are you trying to do?" Andrew snapped.
The voice laughed dryly, "I want to know why you did it."
"Why I did what?" Andrew asked.
"Why you murdered Riley on the night of October 7, 1990."
"Murdered her! Are you crazy? Why would I want to murder my own daughter? And who do you think you are, accusing me of such an act?"
"Stop lying Andrew. I know you murdered her. Look, you don't have to make this too hard on yourself. Just tell me why you did it."
Andrew swallowed hard, "she died of a heart condition—"
"No she didn't!"
"I'm telling you the truth, okay?" Andrew insisted. He turned around to see if Ellen was around. The kitchen was empty and he heard the shower running. He turned back around to face the wall.
"No, Andrew. You're going to tell me the truth. The actual truth."
"I don't have time to talk to you, whoever you are," he replied. "I don't even know why I've been talking to you for this long. I'm hanging up—" he continued, beginning to move the phone away from his ear.
"Don't hang up!" the voice paused. "Unless you want to end up like your daughter."
Andrew's eyes widened as he put the phone back up to his ear, "is that a threat?"
"What do you think?"
"I think I'm going to call the police."
"Oh Andrew, that wouldn't be a very good idea..."
"And why not?"
"Because I'm standing right on your front porch with a clear shot of you. Quite literally," the voice explained. "Yikes, that red and gold tie is not very flattering."
Andrew sharply turned around. He walked over to a window that had a clear view of his front door porch. He peered through the silk curtains—nothing.
"Hah, gotcha," the voice laughed at the other end of the line.
Andrew stayed silent as he went back to his previous spot in the kitchen. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
"Your wife sure looks pretty tonight. Although, I would have gone for the red silk robe rather than the white. It complements her rosy cheeks. But, I mean, if she had gone for the red silk robe, then all that blood would have just blended in... Now, it's going to stain."
"Listen, you lay a hand on her and I'll—"
"You'll what? You'll bore me to death with your strong defense speeches?" the voice laughed once more.
"I can't tell you that I murdered her, okay? I am innocent. Look, if you just hang up now and don't bother us again, then I won't press charges."
"Good luck trying—to press charges, I mean. I'm currently using a burner phone, and if you were to track it, I would be down in the beautiful country of Cuba. Clearly no threat to you," the voice mused.
Andrew stayed silent as he attempted to think about what he could do or say next.
"If you don't admit what you did, your wife dies. You have exactly five minutes to decide. At 12:00 AM, I will call back. Got it?"
The call ended abruptly before he could even reply. He hung up the phone on the wall and turned around to see Ellen standing there, another landline in her hand. She looked angry.
"You heard the whole thing?" he asked her.
She nodded, "I heard you talking and you didn't sound happy. So, I grabbed another phone and listened to the entire conversation."
"And what do you suggest we do?"
"Beat this tool at his own game."
"And what game do you think that is?"
"Intimidation," she replied, placing the phone on the counter.
"Okay. What should I do to intimidate him?"
"You're a lawyer, you'll figure it out," she replied, turning around and leaving the kitchen.

12:00 AM.
Ring Ring Ring! The phone sounded.
Andrew walked over to the wall, he looked back at Ellen who nodded at him. She picked up the other phone and at the same time, they both answered. Andrew put it up to his ear.
"Am I getting blood on my hands tonight, Andrew?" the familiar voice asked.
"How do I know you're not recording this call?" he asked.
"You don't. You're just going to have to trust me."
Andrew laughed dryly, "I won't talk to you unless I see you face to face."
"Where do you want to meet?"
"Somewhere public."
"No can do Andrew," the voice paused. "But I'll tell you what I can do. Drive to the address 4 Craven Avenue. You'll park your car on the street and then proceed down a small pathway. Walk for about ten minutes. You'll know when I'm there. You must come alone, and don't bring anything either. If you do the opposite of anything I have just said, your wife will be hanging by her neck in your kitchen by the time you get home. Got it?"
Andrew ended the call and looked back at Ellen. Her face was full of determination. For someone whose life was being threatened, she didn't seem too worried. Andrew walked over and grabbed a knife from the drawer. He slid it into his sleeve and walked over to Ellen.
"As soon as I leave, you need to run like hell. Go get help from our neighbors and call the police, okay?" he said.
She nodded, "be careful." She held him close.
"I will. I love you, sweetheart," he replied, kissing her forehead.
"I love you too," she responded.
"Now go," he pushed her forward lightly. She began to walk away as he turned and walked out of his house and to the car. He looked up directions to the street as he made his way nervously. His mind was racing and all he could think about was his wife's safety. After a long car ride, he got to the address and parked the car just as the person on the phone had said. He retrieved a flashlight from the trunk of his car as he looked around for the small pathway. Once he had finally found it, he slowly made his way down it.
"Hello?" he asked into the darkness. Andrew continued walking until he was deep into the dark woodland.
"Behind you," the voice from the phone said.
Andrew quickly turned back around with his flashlight shone at the masked figure with a knife up to Ellen's throat.
"Ellen!" he yelled, about to run towards her.
The masked figure dug the knife deeper against Ellen's neck. She cried out in pain. "Don't come any closer Andrew," the figure ordered.
He stopped. His heart beat faster and faster with every passing second.
"Sorry to surprise you like this," the figure apologized, referring to Ellen's current physical state. "I had to make sure you wouldn't try anything."
"Let her go," he demanded, he was beginning to grow more scared as beads of sweat formed on his forehead.
"Drop the knife and I'll think about it," the figure replied.
Andrew sighed and slid the knife out from his sleeve. The cold steel fell to the dirt, resulting in a low thump sound on the grass.
"There, now let her go!" Andrew yelled.
The figure stayed silent before moving the knife away from her neck and pushing her forward. Ellen coughed and ran out onto the grass. She fell into Andrew's arms.
"Now you're going to tell me what I want," the figure said.
"When you tell me something," he replied.
"I'm done playing games. You're going to admit that you killed Riley, no questions asked."
"You seem to care an awful lot about her. Why?" he asked her.
The figure remained silent for a moment before swiftly throwing her hood off and taking the mask away from her face, "because I am her."
Andrew stood there in astonishment. "How are you alive?" he suddenly asked in a hardened tone.
"I had some help," Riley replied.
"From who? You—you were only eight years old. H—how could you have known?" he stammered.
"You're right. How could I have known that my own father was a monster?" she retorted.
"She didn't. Not then, anyways," another voice interjected suddenly. Andrew turned around to see Ellen now behind him with a gun to his head.
"What—what are you doing Ellen? What is going on?" He suddenly demanded, a look of utter betrayal sprayed across his features.
Riley laughed, "for a hotshot lawyer, you don't seem too particularly confident right now," She paused. "Cat's got your tongue?"
Andrew paused, "Ellen, what is this? Do you really think I would kill our own daughter?"
"Yes, Andrew, I do. In fact, I know," Ellen answered.
"15 years ago, you thought you got away with it, but you didn't. She is standing here, right in front of you, ready to take you down," Riley vocalized, walking closer to him.
Andrew stood straight, staring back at her with a hardened look on his face.
"What's wrong, Andrew? You look a little ...white," she continued with a smirk on her face.
"I haven't confessed, you've got nothing on me. So you can smirk and taunt me until you're red in the face. I've spent the last ten years building a reputation in my firm and it's not about to be ruined by you," he retorted.
"See, you have one small flaw in your plan. One that I am quite surprised that you didn't realize seeing as how good of a lawyer you are. I'm alive, and all I have to do is march down to the police station on 5th, tell them my name and that my own father attempted to murder me. Me even being here, alive, is evidence enough on its own. Now, is that what you want? I will ruin your career with a snap of my fingers, trust me. I have spent the last ten years waiting for this moment. This exact moment where everything you have accomplished goes right down the drain, and you finally get what you deserve."
"You're going to do it anyway, aren't you? Even if I did confess, you would still go to the police."
"If you confess, if you tell me why you wanted me dead, I will walk away right now and never come back. And for all the city will know about me is that I'm still buried six feet under," she replied.
Andrew stared back at her, contemplating her offer, "how can I trust you?"
"She's kept quiet for 15 years," Riley nodded at Ellen. "The whole reason I'm alive is because of her, and I keep quiet because that's what we agreed on."
"Fine," he paused as Ellen moved to stand beside Riley. "15 years ago, I was in my office with a man by the name of Rocco Costello. He was a hitman I ordered to murder one of my clients because he was part of a mob family that I was hunting down. While I was going over the plan with him, I saw you through a mirror, standing outside behind the door listening. You heard the whole thing, and I couldn't take that chance, even if you were my daughter."
"You're sick!" Riley interjected.
"Define 'sick,'" Andrew replied with a hint of a malicious smirk. "I prefer the term 'logical.'"
Riley stared at him with hardening eyes. His vile words were like poison she was forced to swallow.
"Anyways, I thought about how I could get rid of this and I figured the only way for that to happen is if you had tragically passed away due to heart failure. I remembered that you have Coronary Artery disease, so I figured I'd blame your death on that. And if you ask me if I'd do it again, I would. My career was just taking off, I was beginning to finally manage my own law firm and attach it to a respectable name. What was I going to do, throw it all away? Over you?" he chuckled.
Riley stared back at him with anger, "you wanted me dead so you could get away with hiring a hitman? Do you really think I would have understood what you were saying? I was eight."
"I couldn't risk you accidentally saying something. Your mother didn't know either, what if you were to say something about it absentmindedly at the dinner table? My life was more important than yours. I never truly wanted you either, so in a way this whole ordeal worked out perfectly... Until it didn't. Now I just want to know how it didn't. How are you alive?"
"Because of me," Ellen interjected.
Andrew looked at her, "what do you mean?"
"In the five years we were married before I had Riley, I thought I knew you. I thought you were going to be a successful man that created a name for himself, the right way ...but I was wrong. I let my heart cloud my head and sense of reality. I was blinded by my love for you, I never even realized that the man I married and gave my life to was a stranger. That evening when you noticed Riley standing at the door, listening to your conversation, you didn't know that I was there too. I heard every single detail about how you were going to articulate the murder and how you paid a hitman thirty-five thousand dollars to kill a man. And all for what, Andrew? A name for yourself? So that you wouldn't be found out for being a corrupt lawyer?" Ellen yelled.
Andrew just stared back at her, not saying anything.
Ellen continued, "for weeks after that night, I noticed you were increasingly anxious, you looked as if you were trying so desperately to perfect something. The feeling I was getting from you wasn't just typical anxiety you'd get before a big case, it was different. This one, looked as if you spent every minute of every day thinking about, over and over in your head. So, when you left for work one morning and after I had taken Riley to school, I went into your office and looked around. I looked through all of your files, your desk, your cabinet drawers; nothing. I found nothing. I was just about to give up and walk out, when something had caught my eye. I looked into the closet and saw a safe. I had no idea you even had one. So I went over to it and tried too many codes before I finally got one right; Riley's birthday. There were a bunch of files in it, news articles and clippings of 'Coronary Artery Disease.' Pictures of Riley littered it. It looked like you were researching everything you could about her disease so that you could use it for something. So I went over to your computer and looked at your search history. I threw up when I read some of your searches. I couldn't wrap my brain around why you would suddenly have this urgency to kill your own daughter, and then I realized that you probably knew she heard your conversation with Rocco that night."
Andrew listened intently. His confidence hadn't faltered despite being guilty. Riley watched Andrew, noticing his nonchalant demeanour.
"It was then that I realized that I may not know you as well as I had thought. For weeks on end, I watched your every move. I wrote down who you talked to and about what, where you went when you weren't home or at work, what you did. By October, I had found out that you had your boss at the time, Michael Davis, host a work party the night you were planning on murdering her so you had a good alibi. Before we left, you had put ricin in her juice that she would drink before bed. It would be perfect for you; great alibi, well-thought out plan... But your only problem was me. I knew your whole plan, that's why when you gave her the poisoned juice, I replaced it. I had gone over my plan with Riley for days after, rehearsing how she would play dead for just a few hours until you would take her body to the crematory, and then I would come and get her. Instead of getting Riley's ashes, you got a dead pig's ashes. For the last 15 years, Riley has been living in our home in Los Angeles. She was taken care of by my parents while I stayed here and figured out what I was going to do about you. It took me 15 years, but I finally came up with a way to get justice and give you what you deserve," Ellen finished.
"I'm shocked, Ellen. Inside, I always thought you were this sad little girl just begging for attention and to be loved. But now, I can see you've grown from that. Although, you are quite scared and maybe not as confident as I had once thought. Your hand is shaking, your breathing is rather fast, and you are sweating; despite the negative eight degree weather. Your tone and your words may feine confidence, but your body does not fool me at all. I should have finished both of you if I would have known this was going to happen," Andrew taunted.
"Watch it there. I think you're forgetting that there's two of us, and one of you," Riley interjected.
"And I'm guessing you expect me to be afraid of that?" he retorted.
"I would be," Riley raised her eyebrow at him.
Andrew laughed dryly, "well, good thing I'll be avoiding that!" he replied sarcastically. "Now, if you'd excuse me—"
"Where do you think you're going?" Riley questioned, pushing him back to prevent him from continuing to walk away.
"Anywhere but here. You said that if I confessed, then you would leave me alone and never bother me again."
Riley and Ellen exchanged looks with a smirk on each of their faces, before they turned back to face Andrew. Suddenly, Riley violently shoved him to the dirt. He fell to the ground roughly before he looked up at them in confusion.
"What—" Andrew was cut off.
"We said we'd leave you alone. We didn't say we weren't going to kill you. Besides, don't you think you deserve to die anyway? I mean, you are a monster that has gotten away with way too much," Riley finished before landing a swift, but hard, punch to his face.
Andrew's head flew back harshly at the impact. He rose his head back up, revealing his face where the viscous, dark red liquid oozed from his nose.
Ellen raised her gun as Andrew's eyes widened. "Oh, please, no! No! I—I'll do anything! Please don't kill me! Please!" he cried out, helplessly from the ground.
"You can't save yourself now, Andrew. You just have to deal with the consequences now," Riley replied, kneeling down beside him.
Ellen clicked the safety off her gun, "I guess you can't talk yourself out of this one now," she whispered in his ear. With that, a loud bang erupted through the quiet woodland.

December 5, 2005.
"On December 1st, the death of Andrew Lincoln Wilson was reported. The 47 year old lawyer was found dead in his home by his wife when she returned from work that evening. He was sat in his office, with a gunshot to his head. Beside him, was a suicide note to which he confessed to the murder of his eight year old daughter, Riley Wilson, fifteen years ago. On October 7, 1990, Andrew and his wife, Ellen, were at a work party, when they returned home to find their young daughter dead from a disease they thought to be the cause of her death. At the time, little did police know that Andrew had poisoned her with the notorious toxin, Ricin, causing the young girl's heart to stop. In his suicide note, Andrew admits to the murder because she had overheard him in some illegal business. Many years later, he could not take the mounting guilt of his crime, and he shot himself. I'm Elizabeth Young, and you're watching First! News."