I was at the bar of a restaurant, sipping a sweet red. I was dressed in a nice black number and did really feel pretty. I was chatting up the bartender and laughing when a gorgeous youn man came up to me. He had a shock of chocolate hair and the darkest eyes you'v ever seen. He was beautiful. He smiled enticingly at me, and sat down on the stool next to mine. We talked for a while, and he shouted me drink after drink until we were both quite drunk, our little party moved back to his place, where we sat and nibbled some chips on the couch, talking, kissing....a few minutes later, we were, well you know..
A couple of days later he came over to my house for dinner, we were chatting in flickering candlelight, happy. I fell asleep on his shoulder in front of the TV and i woke, minutes later to a pair of glowing, menacing eyes staring down at me, a made to laugh, i thought he was jsut being silly, but then i saw the knife in his hand, and for the first time noticed the scars on his wrists, the deranged look on his face. The gauntness that i hadn't noticed for being too caught up in his charm and grace. He plunged the knife, but missed, only cutting my arm when i jerked out of the way, letting out the most horrifying scream. But i was in luck, when i had rolled, i had knocked the arm with the knife and he had half stabbed his leg, so i had some time. I rippled over the arm of the couch, my hands covering the spot a stabber wouuld go for. He was after me, but i had been screaming so much that i could hear the niehgbour trying to get through the door. I just yelled out 'Under the mat!' as i dived behind the counter. Seconds later the teenaged boys who shared a house next door burst into the kitchen in their boxer shorts. My stalker, i know noticed, seemed to be a little high, and so was quite shocked by the appearance of the boys. They leaped at him, took the knife and held him down while i quickly dialled for police.
So yeah, that was my horrror story.
It wasn't made a big deal of.No deaths, no big deal, He was arrested, there was a tiny piece in the newspaper. I had eleven stitches.