The door opens.
I hear him walk in. I squint one eye just to see him set a plate on a nightstand, and I wait until his back turns, then I launch myself at him.
He shoves me back, and I crash onto the bed. His LED mask, the glowing Xs staring down at me.
He pins my wrists above my head, his weight crushing the air from my lungs.
“Let. Me. Go,” I say, every word shaking.
I twist, fight, force my knee up between his legs, and drive it into him as hard as I can.
He groans and falls back onto the mattress.
I run.
I tear through the door. He left it unlocked.
I sprint down the hallway, my feet slapping against the floor, my breath ripping in and out of my chest. I reach the front door and grab the handle.
But the door is locked.
I wrench at it. Again. And again.
“Run.”
I turn.
He stands in a doorway behind me.
“Run.”
The LED mask flickers. The light cuts out, then blazes back on as he steps forward.
Fuck.
I glance to the left and right. But there’s nothing but empty space and blank walls. The only way is to run up.
I take two stairs at a time, my legs burning, my heart pounding in my ears. I hear the sound of his boots behind me.
“Fuck. Off,” I shout, trying every door on the upper floor. Each one is locked. Every single one.
His laugh fills the hallway.
He is closer now.
I move toward him, planning to slip past, to move back down the stairs.
I almost made it.
But his hand clamps around my throat.
He lifts me off the floor and slams me against the wall. The air leaves my lungs in a sharp burst of pain.
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk,” he says, shaking his head.
I twist. My free hand shoots up, and my fingers dig into the holes of the mask, into where his eyes should be.
He hisses and stumbles back.
