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Return of Liuanne

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Note: This is a sequel to The Shoes

It had been at least two weeks since I have seen my little sister. And I did not stop looking for her either. But I think I exhausted most of the places she would hang out. I have been looking on her computer for the last few days and all I have found were searches on urban legends.

One was about this woman who had been murdered and then had her shoes stolen. Basically nothing about my sister. So I tried an article (non-urban legend, thank God.) and I could not believe what I was reading. It was basically about a woman who had gone missing and all that was found was a pair of shoes.

Ones similar to the shoes I gave Liuanne. The police have them now. They said that they were evidence. But I think they were just grasping at straws.

Shutting down the computer, I stood up out of the chair and began looking around my sister's room. What exactly am I looking for? Her diary. She used to hide it in her pillow and then under her bed. I checked around the bookshelf that was above her bed. I found it hiding between two Stephen King books and had it open in less than a minute. Only because my sister never bothered to lock it. Then again she expected me to keep out of it and I respected her privacy.

Yes, I did know where her diary was but I have never ever read it. And yes I am aware that I am talking about my sister in the past tense but I am losing hope. I hate the idea of betraying that trust but I wanted to know her mental state.

And after a few pages I realized that this was a giant waste of time.

All she wrote about were the serial killers she looked up, their mental state and every single weapon they had used. As fucked up as that may sound to some people, it was normal for my sister. She was not doing it because she was a fan but because she had a curiosity over what could make a person into a monster. And there were a few things on urban legends and her own view of them. She had written that some were odd and others were annoying. Creepypastas.

Mostly stupid ones that were, I believe, intentionally lame. That was it. Nothing out of the ordinary. So I set her diary back into her bookcase and walked out of the room. Why bother stay there if I cannot find anything? It hurts to stay there.

Sitting on the end of the couch I tried to relax but I was too keyed up. I was too worried about my sister to think about anything else. Was she eating? Did she have a roof over her head? Did she have access to water?

And was she alive?

The sound of the large cuckoo clock made me jump in my seat. I looked at the clockface and realized that I had been sitting there doing nothing for the last few hours. Groaning at what a doofus I was being I leaned over and picked up the remote from off the floor. When I turned on the TV, it was already on this biography channel that featured famous killers. My sister was planning on seeing a movie about a female killer. And for the life of me, I did not remember who it was.

After a few minutes I began hearing an odd sobbing noise come from behind me and anytime I turned to look... the noise stopped. I turned back to the TV and listened very carefully for the noise to start up once again. Soon after what felt like an hour the quiet crying started once again. Getting off the couch, I ran towards the noise to find it was coming from the stairs. As anyone would guess it got louder as I got closer.

It was coming from the last room at the end of the hall. How did I know?

The door was partially opened.When I came up to it I called out, "Hello?"

It did not stop the sobbing and I heard a mangled, "J... Jeehhhy?"

Pushing the door open I asked, "Liuanne? Is that you, Anne?"

Turning the light on, I saw my little sister, in the same clothing she'd been wearing the last time I saw her. (Yeah like I should have expected anything else.) They were ripped up and she was bleeding in several places. Her hair had several white streaks in it and I sat down next to her as she asked, "H... how long was I away?"

"Two weeks," I said helping her off the floor and she says, "I got away from him. He had me running through this - this empty house. Anytime he got close enough to me, he'd cut me. I was hiding in some places with some food and water I snitched from the kitchen."

"How the hell did you get away?"

"I dunno... I dunno..." she whined as I walked her downstairs and into the kitchen.

We kept the first aid kit in there because I usually hurt myself in the kitchen. (I am a horrible klutz.) I only turned my back on her for a minute before I felt this horrible pain deep in my back. As I turned to her, I saw she was backing up with a large knife in her hands. Her mouth twisted in the most horrible smile I had ever seen. Backing away from her, I screamed as she brought the knife down on my chest over and over. The world got brighter and brighter before I blacked out co...

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