A Silent Terror by Lynette Eason

as she dared.
    Almost there.
    If memory served her right, she needed to go only a few more feet after she passed the bleachers. Praying the room would be unlocked when she got there, she kept moving. The wall ran out, her shin hit the lowest bleacher and she flinched but ignored it.
    Then she felt him, her, it.
    Breathing on her neck. Smelling of stale cigarette smoke. She turned to flee.
    Pain ripped through her scalp and down her neck as a rough hand gripped her ponytail in a vise.
    She screamed, tears leaking down her cheeks.
    “I’m deaf! I can’t hear you if you’re talking!”
    The hand shoved against the back of her head, and she went down, cracking her cheek against the edge of the wooden seat.
    Marianna screamed again.

SEVEN
    Hand on the gym door, Ethan paused. Darkness greeted him. He frowned, his gut shouting at him that something was wrong.
    Had she canceled practice? The sign on the door said she had. He grabbed the handle and pulled. Locked.
    Unclipping his phone from his belt, he sent a text to Marianna’s BlackBerry. “Are you having practice tonight? I’m at the gym and no one’s here. You okay?”
    Anxiety caused sweat to bead on his brow. Should he call for backup?
    But backup for what, canceled basketball practice?
    The comfortable weight of his gun rested snugly under his left arm. He reached up and loosened the strap but didn’t pull the weapon out…yet.
    Retracing his steps, he climbed back into his car and drove around to the girls’ dormitory, located within sight of the gym.
    Several stood outside talking, signing fast, using a word every now and then that Ethan didn’t understand. Must be slang he wasn’t up to date on.
    When they spotted him, the conversation ceased. Ethan looked around for a dorm parent and spotted her talking to one of the girls near the door to the building.
    The girl she was talking to pointed to him and the woman turned, frowning. “May I help you?” she signed.
    “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was looking for Marianna Santino. I thought she had basketball practice right now, but there’s no one in the gym. Do you know where I can find her?”
    One of the teens signed, “Basketball practice was canceled.”
    Ethan signed back, “Did Ms. Santino say why?”
    “No, just that it was canceled.”
    That still didn’t sit right with Ethan. “You talked to her?”
    The girl nodded. “On the TTY.” The telephone device used by the deaf to type messages back and forth. Just like texting, but the TTY used a landline, and the person could read the message as it was being typed out.
    “And you’re sure it was Marianna?” he asked.
    A shrug. “That’s what the person typed.”
    Ethan touched the tips of his lingers to his mouth and brought his hand down, palm up. “Thank you.”
    “Welcome.”
    Walking back to his car, he checked his phone. No response to his text to Marianna. His gut tightened. Not necessarily alarming, but unusual. And in light of recent events…
    Should he check her classroom or go back to the gym once more? Should he call campus security and see if they’ d had any report of a disturbance?
    He glanced at the gymnasium and thought he saw something move. Lights dotted the campus at night, lighting the walkways and streets, but there were still spots that remained dark, places someone could hide.
    The movement caught his eye again, and he moved toward it, hand on the butt of his gun.
     
    Marianna lay against the floor, not daring to move. Her fingers gripped the object her attacker had shoved into her hand before releasing her.
    Slowly her senses returned, and she felt warm wetness flowing from the throbbing gash on her cheek, absentmindedly wondering if she’d need stitches.
    Every muscle tense, she concentrated on the floor. About a minute earlier, she’d felt the person move away from her, fleeing feet pounding across the surface, the vibrations under her prone body growing fainter with each step.
    Dare she pray it was over? How