On Thanksgiving, My Husband Sent Me to Buy Condoms for His Mistress

On Thanksgiving, my husband used my mother's medical bills to threaten me, forcing me to go buy condoms for him and his mistress. The moment I stepped out the door, I ran into a serial killer. The masked man swung his machete, hacking me down in a pool of blood. When I opened my eyes again, the number 4 had mysteriously appeared on my arm. My heart pounded violently. I locked the front door, refusing to go anywhere, and told my husband, Christian, with pale, trembling lips: "There's a killer in the apartment complex!" Christian pulled open the bedroom door, his bare chest covered in visible hickeys. He sneered in disgust. "I just asked you to buy some condoms, and you come up with a ridiculous excuse like that?" My face was completely drained of color as I held my daughter, shivering in fear. The moment Christian shoved me out the door, the masked stranger was already standing behind me. A machete tore through both my daughter and me. Blood drenched the floor! When I regained consciousness, the number on my arm had dropped from 4 to 3. I realized that if we died with a zero on my arm, my daughter and I probably wouldn't wake up again. This time, I gathered every ounce of strength I had, grabbed my daughter, rushed down the stairs past our neighbor's door, and sprinted straight for our family's only sedan! As my consciousness returned, all I could hear were the sultry moans of a woman drifting from the bedroom. Christian pushed open the door and saw me standing there, frozen. Annoyed, he pulled a few bills from his pocket and threw them on the floor. "Serena, why haven't you left yet? Go down to the corner store and get me a box of condoms." Hearing his voice made me tremble all over. I pointed toward the door. "Christian, there's a maniac outside. If I go out right now, I'm going to die." The phantom pain of being hacked to death in my previous life still burned through my flesh. Tears spilled uncontrollably down my cheeks, splashing onto the floor. A flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. Until a mocking giggle sounded from the bedroom. Christian's tone turned even more irritable. "Serena, what kind of crazy stunt are you pulling now? It's the middle of the night. Who's trying to kill you? With that body of yours, nobody on the street would look twice. Stop flattering yourself." "Besides, if you drop dead, it just frees me up to find someone younger." Snap. The tight wire inside my heart shattered. To preserve this marriage and give my daughter a complete family, I had turned a blind eye to his cheating. I had swallowed my pride, walking on eggshells. I had even let him bring his mistress into our home on Thanksgiving night. And now, my own husband was treating me with nothing but cruelty and contempt. "It's real! I can't go out there! He's in the stairwell with a machete..." "Enough!" "It's Thanksgiving. Stop making up stories. If you don't bring them back, don't bother coming home tonight." Ruffling his messy hair, he shoved me out the door in irritation. Slam! The heavy door locked shut. Shivering in the cold, I stood in the dim hallway, clutching my daughter to my chest. A wave of despair threatened to swallow me whole. Heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs, getting closer and closer. The killer was here! I gritted my teeth as my heart hammered against my ribs. I held my daughter tight and bolted like a madwoman toward the fire escape. Our white sedan was parked below. If I could just reach the car, we could escape! "Mommy, I'm scared..." my daughter whimpered softly in my arms. "Don't be scared, baby. Mommy's here." Panting heavily, I didn't dare slow down. I burst into the underground garage, strapped my daughter into her car seat, and jumped behind the wheel. Thud! The car door slammed shut. I hit the ignition, and the car shot out like an arrow from a bow. Glancing in the rearview mirror, my blood ran cold. The masked killer had chased us down to the garage, his cold, dead eyes locked onto me. I slammed on the gas, speeding through the night, my palms slick with sweat. Gradually, the distance between us grew. I let out a shaky breath, tears streaming down my face. This time, we finally made it! I tapped the brakes, preparing to turn right at the intersection ahead to head for the nearest police station. Suddenly, my relief froze. My blood turned to ice. The brakes weren't responding. They were dead. From my blind spot, an SUV barreled up behind me—it was the killer! Why? Who the hell was he? Why was he relentlessly hunting me down? Bundled in a heavy black coat that hid every feature, the man stomped on his accelerator and slammed violently into my bumper!Boom! The massive impact sent the car spinning out of control. My daughter burst into terrified wails. "Mommy, my head hurts so bad!" I wanted nothing more than to tear that psycho limb from limb, but I couldn't stop. I dared not stop. His car was terrifyingly fast. The moment he rolled down his window, my stomach dropped. In the next second, a bucket of thick, yellow mud splattered across my windshield, blinding me completely. Despair crushed my chest. I frantically turned on the wipers, but they only smeared the muck further. I gritted my teeth and glanced at the GPS, checking how far we were from the next exit. Only three minutes left! I gripped the steering wheel, desperately trying to pull away from him. Suddenly, another sharp object smashed through the passenger window, showering the interior with shattered glass. Before I could even process what it was, a piercing scream tore from my daughter. I snapped my head around and froze in horror. The left side of my daughter's face was bathed in blood. A massive construction spike had punched through the window, impaling Lily's cheek. Her lips were ghostly pale, her eyes squeezed shut. "Lily, don't move! Listen to Mommy! Don't move! And don't fall asleep, okay?!" My heart ripped to shreds in that instant. My only thought was getting her to the nearest ER. Pure terror and raw hatred consumed every inch of my body. Moments later, the killer's car boxed me in, forcing a violent collision that left my vision swimming. An axe came crashing down through my shattered driver's-side window. The force from outside was overwhelming. I wanted to fight back, to make a desperate final stand. But when I saw his cold eyes shift toward Lily, instinct took over. I threw my own body across the console to shield her. "Take me! Just kill me! Don't hurt my baby!" My eyes burned crimson with fury as excruciating pain ripped through me. A curtain of hot blood washed over my face. He had struck my head. I could hear Lily screaming for her mommy at the top of her lungs, but I couldn't turn to look. I could only keep my arms stiffly locked over her, taking every hit to protect my child. Strike after strike tore into my arms and legs, filling the cabin with the sickening stench of copper and iron. When he finally stepped back, satisfied, he still showed no mercy to my little girl. As my daughter and I lay dying in a pooling sea of crimson, my phone suddenly rang. The killer paused in his tracks and answered the call for me. From the speaker, an obnoxious, familiar voice drifted out. Christian was still demanding, "What the hell is taking you so long? Get your ass back here right now!" Too late. I'm already dead. In my fading moments of consciousness, police tape was finally strung across the road. My husband, his arm draped around his mistress, Chloe, strolled over late. When he saw our mangled bodies, his pupils contracted in sheer disbelief. He stumbled backward, falling onto the pavement in shock. After a long silence, he reached out, stroked Chloe's face, and muttered to himself, "Serena must have crossed the wrong people outside. Thank God I kicked her out." "If anything had happened to you, I'd never forgive myself... It's just bad luck for Serena and Lily."I burned with rage and heartbreak! When I opened my eyes again, the number on my arm had dropped from 3 to 2. I was back standing right outside the bedroom door, gasping for breath. The first thing I did was check on my daughter. She was fine! Her little porcelain face wasn't impaled by a steel spike, and she wasn't butchered under the killer's blade! Lily looked up at me, calling "Mommy" in her sweet, babyish voice. I checked the clock. There were only ten minutes left before the killer found us. Christian walked out of the bedroom with his usual lazy swagger, his chest covered in fresh bite marks and scratches. "Does it take this long just to buy a box of condoms?" he sneered. "What's with the zombie impression?" I stared at him coldly, forcing my breathing to steady. "My dad just called. He's pulling up outside right now. Do you really want him walking in on you and your little side piece?" My dad used to run with street gangs in his youth. Ever since our wedding, he had despised Christian. He had beaten Christian black and blue more times than I could count. If he caught Christian in bed with his mistress in our marital home, he'd kill him on the spot. Christian clearly remembered those beatings. A flash of panic flickered across his face. Dropping his cocky attitude, he hurried back to urge Chloe to sneak out. He didn't miss the chance to throw insults at me, though: "Why didn't you say so earlier?! Did you plan this so he could see his precious daughter begging on her knees?" He let out a cold smirk, leaning down toward my face. "If you acted more like these younger girls—sweet, obedient, and soft—maybe I'd actually have an ounce of desire for you." I ignored his bile. I didn't have time to trade insults. I shoved my way past him, taking over the master bedroom. Before shutting the door, I warned him, "Neither of you should step outside. There's a killer out there." Even now, I couldn't be sure whether the killer was only targeting my daughter and me, or if he was slaughtering anyone in his path. After locking the bedroom door, I slid the balcony door open and stepped outside. Taking a deep breath, I carried my daughter over the seventh-floor balcony railing, climbing across into our neighbor's terrace. With seconds ticking away, I ignored the neighbors' horrified expressions, begging them desperately to keep my daughter safe and hidden, no matter what happened. The neighbor nodded firmly. Lungs burning, I slipped back out into our hallway and sprinted for the fire escape stairs. Within seconds, the masked killer had arrived at my front door. The heavy sound of his machete hacking into the wood echoed through the hall. The vibrations rattled my ears. I scrambled upward. Our building was in a quiet, isolated suburb with barely any traffic or people. My car's brakes were already sabotaged, so fleeing by car was out of the question. Pushing my burning muscles to the limit, I made it to the rooftop and bolted the heavy fire door behind me. Curled up in a freezing corner of the roof, my heart pounded so hard it threatened to crack my ribs. With trembling fingers, I dialed 911. "Hello, dispatch? I'm on the roof of the Westridge apartments! The killer is right below me!" I kept my voice down to a ragged whisper, but my terror bled through. "Ma'am, please stay calm. We've received multiple reports and units are en route. A cruiser has entered your district and should arrive in approximately ten minutes." Ten minutes... That number gave me a tiny sliver of hope. As long as I survived those ten minutes, the police would save me... I pressed my ear against the metal door, straining to hear. At first, the rooftop was dead silent. I held my breath, afraid to make a sound. BANG! A violent slam rattled the door, hitting my chest like a sledgehammer. BANG! BANG! BANG! Heavy, rhythmic blows rained down. Within moments, the killer had... tracked me all the way to the roof! He was battering the lock with brute force! My mind went completely blank. How was this possible? This building had over twenty floors. How could he have known to head straight for the roof? A horrifying thought flashed through my mind. With another deafening crash, the lock gave way, metal shearing apart. The heavy fire door was kicked wide open. The masked killer stepped through, machete raised, locking his gaze entirely on me. Then, he spoke. "Where is your daughter?" The blood in my veins turned to liquid nitrogen. He wasn't a random serial killer. He was specifically hunting me and my daughter! Behind his terrifying mask, he stepped forward—and with a single, vicious swipe, he slit my throat!When my senses flooded back, the number on my arm read only 1. I finally knew that this killer was coming exclusively for Lily and me. Yet I racked my brain and couldn't think of anyone I had ever crossed. Then, remembering the strange, uneven limp in his stride, a sickening suspicion took root in my mind. Could Christian be involved in this?! This time, I borrowed a cordless reciprocating saw from my neighbor. Instead of running, I hid in the shadows of the seventh-floor stairwell. I kept my eyes glued to my phone screen. Soon enough, I heard Christian's voice through the door. Thinking I had returned, he yanked it open. "Serena, did you seriously take this long just to buy a box of condoms?" "Who the hell are you? Playing dress-up with a mask in the middle of the night?" Christian's voice dripped with arrogance. The killer said nothing, only letting out a wet, guttural hiss. "Get lost, loser. You're blocking my door." Christian swore, reaching out to shove him aside. A second later, a bloodcurdling scream tore from Christian's throat, followed by the violent sounds of a struggle. "Ah! What are you doing?! You psycho!" I held my breath, my heart racing. The killer was attacking Christian, too? If they were partners, this made no sense. The killer prowled the hallway, looking left and right as if searching for something. He already realized I wasn't in the apartment. Then how did he pinpoint my location on the roof last time? Suddenly, my phone screen lit up. A text message from an unknown number appeared: Stop hiding. I know you're in the complex. Come out, and I'll make your death quick. A chill ran straight down my spine. If someone could see my phone's location, that would explain how he'd found me on the roof in the last loop. He had an accomplice! Seeing the killer raise his blade to finish off Christian, I yanked the trigger of the saw and charged out from the shadows. "You sick bastard! You're the one who deserves to die!" I lunged forward like a woman possessed. The snarling roar of the electric saw startled the killer, forcing him to stumble back. As he moved, his sleeve rode up, revealing an arm covered in horrific burn scars. Recovering his balance, the killer staggered backward, but I kept driving the whirring blade toward him without hesitation. Cowering by the doorway, Chloe finally broke. Shrieking in sheer terror, she bolted blindly toward the stairs. "Help! Murder! Somebody help!" "Don't run!" I screamed. She barreled straight into me, crashing into my injured arm. The impact knocked the saw's battery pack loose, and the motor died. The tool clattered uselessly to the floor. My eyes went wide. Before I could react, the killer thrust his machete straight forward. "Serena!" Christian shrieked in horror. The blade plunged clean through my abdomen. A wave of blinding, agonizing pain washed over me. Blood poured out like an open faucet. Gritting my teeth, I used the very last ounce of strength in my body to violently tear the mask from his face. When that familiar face was revealed, my eyes bulged in utter disbelief. How could it be him?! In that final second, the truth behind this entire nightmare clicked into place!