Texts From Anna

monochrome photo of woman

Texts From Anna

Chapter One

My hands are shaking with both anger and fear as my fingers tap the keyboard. I’m finding that the only thing that’s keeping me from punching the walls and screaming, crying, or begging is the melodic noise of the keys humming along while my fingers tap away. It’s so calming, so… soothing. Like a slow song you play over and over again when you are down. It doesn’t necessarily cheer you up, but it resonates. Combine that with the handle of Jack Daniels that’s working its way on empty, and I’m finally in a good place for the first time in weeks. I hope that you will forgive my typos, or grammar inaccuracies, because I simply can’t stop typing for fear I’ll go insane.

I will not give you my location, my name, or any personal details. Its safer that way. I don’t want her to find where we’re hiding.

Let me start from the beginning. In May, I graduated from University and moved to a small suburban town just outside the city. I was set up with a good job, and after a few months I started to burn the excess weight picked up from countless nights of college debauchery; drinking, smoking, overeating, you name it.

One night, I decided to test this new found confidence and head out to the city bars. After a few (lite) beers at home, my buddies and I packed into a taxi that jetted its way to our favorite local hotspot.

As soon as we get there, we decide to tip the meter from buzzed to, well, a bit more than buzzed. We order two rounds of shots which go down the throat nicely with a cold draft of beer. Immediately after, one of my friends notices a buddy from high school across the bar, and drunkenly stumbles over to pursue a conversation about baseball, girls, and who knows what else. The other two go outside to grab a smoke, leaving me sitting at the bar alone with a half drank beer and stupid smile.

After about two minutes, a woman comes over and sits next to me. She’s about five and a half feet, dark hair, dark skin, dark leather jacket. She’s fairly attractive, so I do a ‘subtle’ once over as she leans forward to collect her draft.

She catches me looking, and turns and smiles.

“It’s nice of you to take your friends out.”

I smile my dumb smile, and ask her stupidly, “What do you mean? We all came out together.”

The corners of her lips turn upwards in a mocking smile, as she asks “Are you the oldest?”

My own smile turns to a slight look of confusion as I respond “Well…. yeah, I guess I am. But only bye a few months.”

Her smile vanishes and she looks directly into my eyes, pausing for a second before she continues to speak; “I can tell. The others look as though they don’t fit in here. You, however, you look like you belong.”

At this point, I am pretty drunk. I am unsure whether to take this as a compliment or an insult, given that I was just told I belong at a skeevy down town bar. I make up some excuse about having to use the bathroom, and I stumble away from the bar.

Throughout the night, I notice the woman staring at me. No matter where I am, she remains rooted to that spot with a near full draft in here hands, her eyes studying me. Examining me. After a couple of hours of this, I am pretty creeped out and ask my friends if they’re ready to try a new bar. They grumpily agree, stating “the girls are beat here anyway.” We collect our coats and head towards the exits as I take one glance back to the bar stool where the woman had been sitting. The chair is empty.

I turn to head out the door and stop short, to find her standing directly in front of me. She has that weird look on her face, with the corners of her mouth turned up while the rest remains straight. Like a forced smile hiding some hidden intent.

“My name is Anna. Here’s my number.”

I smile politely and drunkenly as I take the piece of paper and slide it in my pocket. I thank her as I move past and head out into the cool September air.

My friends laugh and treat me like a king after conquer. They pat me on the back and squeeze my shoulders, grinning and telling me to text the girl immediately. I refuse, but they grab my phone and hold me down as my idiot friend types out a message to the number on the paper.

“Hey Anna. You looked good tonight 😉 nice to meet you.”

Within seconds there is a buzz back.

“Thanks Matt. I think we both belong here.”

After this exchange, I manage to get up and grab the phone from my friend. We continue along with our night, grab a cab home, and sleep off our inevitable hangovers.

However, one fact is creeping along my mind as I drift to sleep. I never told her my name.

The next morning, I slide out of bed and grab my phone off the desk. Dead battery, perfect. I slide in the charger and push the Power button as my phone happily moves through its introductory welcome message.

Then, the screen lights up. New text message.

New text message.

New text message.

New text message. New text message. New text message. New text message. New text message. New text message.

Ten in total. I gasp and sit up as I open the ‘Messages’ application.

The first is from a girl I dated a few years ago. We’ll call her Laura. I had always been crazy about Laura, but due to her studying abroad we had never been able to hang out on a consistent basis. We faded out of contact when she got a new boyfriend in London, though I had missed her a lot ever since.

“I broke up with my boyfriend…” I smile. This is the text I had secretly been waiting a year and a half for. I move onto the next nine texts, all from the same person.


“So, where’d you guys end up last night?” 7:22 AM

“Hello?” 7:27 AM

“Why aren’t you answering?” 7:30 AM

“This is Anna, from the Globe. Don’t you remember?” 7:35 AM

“Fucking dick.” 7:37 AM

“I belong with you, you belong with me, in my sweet hoooome” 7:45 AM

I gulp. That last message is the lyrics from a song I posted on Facebook a couple days before.

“Do I have to find you to reach you? ;)” 7:50 AM

“Don’t you believe in fate, Matthew?” 8:00 AM

“The flowers you have outside your house are very pretty.” 9:15 AM

With that, I slam my phone on the table and immediately pull up the Verizon website to block her number. I find the link and immediately type it in the box. Done.

After a few weeks I put the matter behind me, deciding that this was just a creepy attempt to get my interest.

This leads me to two nights ago. After a few weeks of awkward conversations, I finally ask Laura on a few dates, which she happily accepts. I guess you could say we are officially together now. The one mistake I made was listing her as my girlfriend on Facebook.

Last night, Laura got a text

“Hello Laura, I would like to tell you a story about a woman I killed for stealing what was mine. Death is really quite fascinating… they don’t do it enough justice in the crime shows you see today. When you kill someone, there is a lot of blood. A lot. In most cases, I like to make death happen in open places, so that the blood is returned to the Earth from which it came. However, death wasn’t good enough for this particular bitch. When she was on her last dying breaths, I was prepared. You see, I brought a bag full of maggots that I had collected from an abandoned basement. As this stupid cunt gasped for air I poured my little baggy out onto her chest and laughed as they crawled and started to feed. Within minutes, they started to engulf her naked body, feeding on her. She was their bread, and their blood. I am their Jesus Christ, providing them this holy sanctum from which to drink and feed. You see Laura, this is what happens. When you intersect with fate, you are punished with a hore’s death. If you do not leave Matt alone, I will crucify you, and laugh as my little friends feed on the blood and tears that trickle down your body. Do you understand me, Laura? Do you understand what happens when you get in the way? He is mine.”

When this text came in, Laura was in bed with me, so there was no hiding the look of fear on her face as the next message came in. A picture of Laura’s apartment in the daylight, taken a few hours ago. I gently took the phone from her and read the previous message, hastily packed some things, and shuffled her out the day, explaining the entirety of the story as I did.

We’re in a hotel now. I guess there’s no point of hiding that. She already knows, you see. An hour before I started typing this, Laura got one more picture message. It was a picture of the ‘No Vacancy’ sign out front.

Chapter Two

Soon after I wrote to you all this morning, we left the hotel. That was the advice many of you gave, RUN. I was hesitant to go outside with Laura immediately after this picture was taken, so I let her sleep a bit as I contemplated our next move.

After an hour of this, Laura stirred and woke to see me sitting in a chair by the door, with a bat and an empty bottle of Jack. God, she did not deserve this shit…

I snapped out of my trance, stood up and attempted to shake off my buzz. I climbed into bed and calmly explained what we needed to do.

Her beautiful brown eyes started to tear, but she understood. Wordlessly, we packed our clothes into the small bag we brought with us, got dressed, and walked out the front door. As we stepped out into the small parking lot, paranoia seeped into my mind as I constantly looked over my shoulder. Luckily, it was bright midday, so no one could go unseen, and no one was around.

I called the hotel and checked out over the phone as Laura sped down the freeway, her mouth still agape in a state of wordless, teary shock.

The second part of the plan was to do what many of you have told me to do in the comments: go to the police. So we did. I spoke for about two hours with a very matter-of-fact officer who seemed to think I was quite the wimp (can’t handle a girl? cmon now buddy!) I showed him the text and picture messages, and he reluctantly agreed to open a report on the incident, though there was no physical contact meriting harassment. Plus, I had no information to go on. I only knew her name and cell phone number, which was traced back to a pre-paid phone. He did, however, ask that we stay in the area so that he can have some officers keep an eye on us. We gave him the address of our next location (a motel on the other side of town) and were on our way.

As soon as we got to the motel room I collapsed in bed. I had barely slept in a few days, and the effects of the Jack Daniels were taking their toll. The last thing I saw before I passed out was Laura studying her laptop screen.

I woke up hours later. I groggily wiped the sleep out of my eyes, readjusted my contacts and looked out to see dusk had came and went. I reached my hand out to the still-warm spot on the bed next to me.


Anyone who has ever experienced loss can relate to this… first there is the heart wrenching feeling of panic. It makes you pull your hair out, curse, cry, scream, fight. Then, there is what I can only describe as deep exhale — in that moment, all your future plans go out the window. The first thing that went through my mind was that Laura was gone. Taken. She would never be able to meet my parents. She would never walk down the aisle to see me waiting at the altar, smiling as I admired her beautiful strides in a plain, white dress. We would never come home to each other every night, start our own family… with the stereotypical white picket fence and red shutters. I’d imagined it a thousand times, since the moment I met her. It sounds like a cliche, and it probably is, but fuck it, I knew at that moment how much I wanted to marry this girl.

I sat there, tears flowing freely as i clutched my head in my hands for a couple minutes, trying to think of what to do. Then, as i began to sit up, I heard footsteps outside my door. Light ones, tap tap tap, the sound of someone who was in a hurry.

She’s coming for me. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. I smashed the empty bottle of Jack Daniels against the night stand and stood directly in front of the door as the knob slowly turned and opened.

Standing there, was Laura.

I grabbed her and hugged her, pulling her in close and slamming the door behind her and locking it as I backed away from it. Her face was equal parts bewilderment and fear as she looked into my eyes.

“Babe, I just wanted to get you some water…”

I laughed as I kissed her and pushed her down to the bed. Then, as I came down to join her, my laptop let out the happy binggggg to let me know I had a new email.

Laughing and groaning, I rolled over the bed and logged into my computer. This is what I found, copy and pasted:

Fate is a fickle friend, is it not Matthew? That night at the bar, fate found us. There is no other explanation!

Again as fate would have it, I just HAPPENED to be walking down the street when I saw your pretty little bitch walk into the store. Dressing like a slut, isn’t she? Long black pants with such a low cut shirt… Do you like that, Matt? I can dress like that for you. You’ll see.

I thought about taking her then. It would be so easy… wait until she was alone on one street, render her unconscious (I have my ways 😉 ) and throw her in my car. Then I’d take her back to the place where I return the sluts to the dirt, and drain the blood from her fucking body. Rip open her veins with a knife and watch as that pretty color fade from her skin. Tear out those fucking eyes you love so much and feed them to the wilderness. If you’re so attached, I can cut off her hair and keep it? Maybe I’ll wear it out on our first date? It’d make the transition so much easier…

Don’t you see? There is a plan for all of us. A line of destiny in which we need to follow. Sometimes, that line can be obscured and blurred, and you may stray onto the beaten path. You need something to push you in the right direction. I belong with you, you belong with me.

Chapter Three

Thank you for listening. This is quickly spiraling out of control…

I’ve switched from vodka to cigarettes. Empty packs litter the floor around me as I suck them down like its my only salvation. I had quit for months…. but fuck it. At least I now have a clear head. After I received that last e-mail, I immediately contacted the police. I sent them the address and the entirety of the message in the hopes that they could trace the IP back to Anna’s computer. They did, but it wasn’t Anna’s computer that they found.

The laptop was personal property that had gone missing, along with it’s owner, two years ago.

Honestly, I would list the story regarding the disappearance here, because I just don’t give a shit anymore, but the police are not even aware that I am posting my story here. I don’t want them to be able to find it, and have it somehow hinder an ongoing investigation. We’ll call the man in question Bryan for this reason. Bryan is presumed to be dead, along with his longtime girlfriend, as there was a significant amount of blood found at his home the day they disappeared.

As I was saying, the police were able to find the laptop used to send out the last e-mail by tracing the network address, which was assigned to a local library in town. What’s more, was Anna was still logged into the computer’s email account at the time of the trace.

The police, thinking they had hit a spot of luck, sent a few cars to the library in the hopes of catching Anna still there. They were not so lucky.

They arrived to find the black laptop sitting on a wooden desk in a small alcove of the library. After doing a quick search of the surroundings, no one matching Anna’s description was found. In fact, it was an odd hour of the morning, and the librarian said they had only had a few patrons, none of whom were women. Regardless, it appears the laptop was left open as a taunt at some point. When they turned off the screensaver, they were greeted by a prompt that read ‘Squeal Piggy Squeal!!’. Surprisingly enough, they were still able to access the computer’s files, which were empty. On her e-mail account, however, several e-mails were in her outbox, sent to me (I have since deleted the e-mail account). They gave me the transcripts, in the hopes that I could make sense of the messages. Sadly…. I could. Here they are, typed out from the piece of paper in front of me:

1.) You can’t hide forever. Do you really think involving the police will help? You don’t even know who I am. But you will, oh you will…

2.) I think you’ll find I look quite different now. I dress like a dirty fucking whore, just the way you like.

3.) The dirt screams for her blood. I love the earrings she had on today. Maybe I’ll just rip them off and wear them myself. Would you like that? You look cute today. Did you like my gift?

4.) “You can stare right into the abyss, but it’s staring right back.”

5.) You need to fucking answer. You’ll learn that soon.

6.) “Anyone that’s making something new only breaks something else.” Oh, I’d love to break it…

7.) Let me tell you the story of my former boyfriend. His name was Bryan, and we loved each other very much. He would take me to dinner every weekend, shower with the praise and affection deserved of someone who’s life has been devoted to. I found it odd, however, that I never met any of his family. Not his friends, his co-workers, or even his fucking cousins. I began to… suspect things. Terrible things. One night I came over to his house, out of the blue, and knocked on the door. I heard nervous shuffling and hurried voices as the door was opened a crack, enough for me to see his lying fucking eyes through the door. “Oh, hey…” he gasped to me breathlessly. “I’m in the middle of a business call…”

“Business call? Who’s there honey” said the voice of the whore inside.

His eyes went wide as he looked at me, like a deer caught in the headlights. I pushed open the door, causing him to fall back and slam his head. The scene that was revealed to me was one of horror— some whore was lying in the bed that I had laid so many times before…. between the only sheets that had made me feel warm and at home for so long.

Then the whore spoke. “Who the fuck are you?” She asked through her lying lips. I grabbed her by her hair, and I slit her fucking throat on the spot.

I turned to my sweet, sweet Bryan with the hores half severed head in my hands and asked him why. Why did he choose to destroy our fate? He tried to run, and I laughed as he tripped over his own belt lying on the floor. I got on top of him and fucked him one last time before I covered his mouth and knocked him out. How did I get them out, you ask? Well, that’s a story for another time. Maybe next time we get a chance to talk ;).

Here’s the last:

I think I’m drowning..


I want to break the spell

That you’ve created

You’re something beautiful

A contradiction

I want to play the game

I want the friction

You Will be The DEATH Of me.

You Will be The DEATH Of me.

Bury it…. I won’t let you bury it…. I won’t let you smother it…. I won’t let you murder it..

Your time is running out, Matthew. I will not be ignored.

Again, this song was posted on my (deleted) Facebook.

As for the ‘gift’… Laura and I stopped by my apartment today to pick up some things. There was a bottle of vodka, with a bow on it, waiting for us by the door.

Chapter Four

It has been four days since I began to share with you all my incredibly fucked up story. In that time, I have not been to work. I have barely slept. I have lived entirely in fear. My body has began to rebel from the countless doses of alcohol and nicotine that I have pumped into my bloodstream like an unending syringe.

Naysayers… you probably won’t believe this last part. I considered never even uploading it; because fuck it, who would believe me? I am having trouble coming to grips with it myself; and have tried to convince myself that nothing has happened countless times.

However, writing everything out here has been… therapeutic. It has helped me realize that I am not alone, that there is some shred of decency left, and for that I thank you, nosleep. For all of you who have been with me since the beginning… I feel I owe it you to conclude this shit show. So here it is.

Yesterday, around mid morning, I received a call from the police department. After doing some technical work on the laptop they found, they were able to pinpoint a location from which previous e-mails were sent out. An apartment building located on the outskirts of town.

When they got there, however, they were greeted by a blood bath. A woman somewhat matching Anna’s age and description was found dead; bludgeoned to death by a blunt object of some sort. They called and asked me to come into identify the body — hoping my story would help to shed some light on the killer.

I arrived at the police station around noon, thoroughly exhausted and slightly hungover. Laura stayed behind… I did not want her to have to see a dead body after everything she had been through.

At the station, a solemn faced officer greeted me and walked me to the room where the body was being held. Gingerly, he unwrapped the white sheet over her face and stepped back, studying my facial expression as he did.

The woman who laid there was certainly Anna. However… she had changed. Her black hair was held up in a ponytail, and she wore dark rimmed glasses that outlined a severely bruised and bloody face. On her shoulder, a newly inked tattoo reflected in the bright overhead light. An ornate cross, done entirely in black ink. Just like Laura, just like she said. Only, Laura had the name of her parents on either side. Anna’s was blank. I shuddered to think who’s names belonged there.

I told the police officer that this was the woman who had been harassing me, though I had no idea as to how she was killed. Luckily, there had been a squad car patrolling the area surrounding our hotel last night, and my car had never left, so I was not considered a suspect in Anna’s murder. I thanked the officer, and made my way out to my car, emotionally exhausted, but ready to begin to put the whole thing behind me.

I drove to our hotel, and grabbed a bad out of the back seat so I could begin to pack our things up and ‘move out’. I smiled as I saw the metal bat draped across the back seat, and threw it in the bag I then carried inside.

I smiled to the clerk at the desk as I waited for the elevator that ascended to our floor.

1, 2, 3, 4, stop.

I gingerly stepped out the elevator and proceeded to my door. I slid the key in the reader, and pushed it open. What lay before me was an image I feel I will never be able to erase from my mind.

Laura was lying on the floor, crumpled against the desk in a pool of blood. She had a large gash across her forehead. Standing over her was a man, who… looked quite like me. He was about 5’10, with brown hair and blue eyes. His clothing was dirty and tattered, and in his hand he held a long piece of… well, I guess it was metal. Maybe a pipe or something like that. To be honest, I was too distracted by the site of my girlfriend lying in a pool of her own blood. Unconscious. Likely dead.

Then, the man turned to look at me. The corners of his lips turned up in that same sickly way I had seen only a few weeks before. On him, the smile seemed almost inhuman. It was the smile of a man who had long since escaped the fringes of sanity.

“There you are. My name is Bryan. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Then, he came at me. He lifted the pipe over his head and bull rushed. Still in a state of shock, I was able to step to the side and back up, causing me to only catch a glancing blow to my knee. Nevertheless, the pain was instantaneous. I limped away from Bryan, my back to the hotel room’s balcony, as he turned to face me once again.

“She was mine. You took her from me. What’s fair, is fair.” He motioned to Laura’s lifeless body.

As I looked down at her, I felt all the rage that had built up inside of me for weeks. As Bryan rushed me once again, I reacted. I grabbed the bat that I had luckily thrown in the bag, and stepped to the side before I took a healthy, level swing.

It connected with its mark. Bryan doubled over, coughing blood and cursing as he backed up. When his back hit the railing, he stopped coughing and looked up at me with the same sickly smile.

“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” With that, he turned around, and jumped off the seven story high balcony.

I will need surgery. Several ligaments in my knees have been torn, including my ACL. The bone was fractured.

Laura was dealt a severe concussion. She was packing her things yesterday morning, when there was a knock at the door. She thought I left my key behind, so she opened it. Bryan knocked her over the head with the pipe, rendering her unconscious. I discovered them like that soon after.

The police have told me that the fingerprints at Anna’s apartment match Bryan’s. The working theory at the moment is that Bryan discovered Anna’s obsession, and killed her out of anger. He found the addresses she had written down, and came to find me as well. He had been living with Anna since the murder of his girlfriend, it appeared. Whether that began as a choice or through force, has yet to be determined.

For those of you wondering why Anna would ever seek me out when she had Bryan…. I don’t know. Maybe she never forgave him for his ‘affair’. Or maybe she’s just fucking crazy, and could not be controlled. All I know at the moment, is that Laura and I are alive and safe. And that is what is important.

Thank you.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *