Monique Birgitte

Monique Birgitte

A killer of a story

The loud noise of glass breaking woke her up abruptly. She gasped for air and sat up straight in bed. She was wide awake now. Her attempt to jump out of bed failed miserably, when her feet got stuck on the sheets. Panicked she tried to untangle herself, making it worse. The footsteps were getting closer. Still kicking her feet to free herself, she rolled over and dropped to the floor. The kicking worked. She jumped up, and frantically started searching for her ‘in case I get robbed’ bat.

Her back was facing the door. It was slightly ajar, as it had been ever since she was a little girl. Her mom used to come and tuck her in, leaving it in such a way so that she could see a bit of light coming from the hallway. It made her feel safe. A sigh of relief filled the room when she saw the bat. Before she could bend over to grab it, she felt the cold steel of the blade enter her body from the back, piercing her skin. Two quick jabs.

The coldness of the blade was replaced with a shooting pain up and down her body and warm blood started to seep down her back. Her hair was pulled so roughly, that she couldn’t react, sweeping her legs away from underneath her body.  The immense pain she felt from falling flat on her back, in that one swift movement, made her scream so loud in agony, it was a wonder no one heard her.

She was dragged out of the room by her hair. Her open wounds were throbbing against the cold tiled floor. With both hands, she reached above her head and tried to pull her hair free from the firm grip, while sliding over the floor. Before she could even try to release any of the fingers, she was yanked around and rolled on her butt, now facing the perpetrator. The glance of recognition and surprise on her face was replaced by terror within seconds when the blood soaked knife was lifted up over the intruder’s head.

Lifting up her arms, she tried to cover her face and upper body. She crunched forward with her knees pulled up as far as physically possible. But it  wasn’t enough. The first stab cut into her left elbow. The excruciating pain made her instantly cover the cut with her right hand, leaving her stomach free. Within seconds the knife penetrated straight into her gut.

The room got blurry around her. She had lost too much blood. Blinking her eyes, she tried to focus, which was hard to do with the ringing in her ears. They seemed to fill up with a high pitched whistle combined with the sound of someone blowing loudly in her ear. Little black squares started to form in front of her eyes, until it all became pitch black. The last thing she heard before she faded away was her killer counting of the number of stabs out loud….five, six, seven….

Excerpt of ‘Woven’. The book I wrote.


Hi, ik ben Monique! Een ‘Life Voyager’ zoals een producer/manager uit New York mij zo mooi noemt. Deze voel ik wel. Ik ben inderdaad iemand die het leven ziet en voelt als een geweldig avontuur. Dat was langer niet altijd zo…



Ga je eigen ontdekkingsreis aan en voel je ook écht goed. Puur door jezelf te zijn. 

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