I saved my story from the old board 200 word thread.

The key wouldn't turn in the doorknob of the decrepit gas station on the old highway. She was eight months pregnant and she had to pee. The key was hanging on the locked front door, but she was too desperate to wonder why.

The key turned and she pushed the door. It opened a few inches and stopped. The metallic sound made her jump, and she felt a squirt between her legs. "Dammit!" She put both hands on the door to force it to open.

Something smashed into her from behind. The door slammed open and she fell through it. She caught herself against the cinderblock wall. Then a hand grabbed her hair, pulled her back, and slammed her forehead into the blocks. It pulled her back and slammed her again, three times.

The wide bladed hunting knife was cold where it pierced her tramp stamp, stabbing through muscle, intestines, and uterus. The killer yanked it upward, cutting a ragged vertical slice up to her ribs, slashing her kidney. Blood and amniotic fluid gushed out, washing brown slime out of her ruptured guts.

She collapsed on the floor, dying in three minutes. Her daughter joined her a minute later.