Why did I ask to see his dark side?
What did he mean when he said, “You’re fucked”?
I run through the endless, dimly lit garden towards the maze.
When I reach its entrance, I stop to take a breather.
Is he already following me?
I can’t think twice right now. I run into the maze.
The thick, tall hedges rise high around me. It’s quiet—God, too hauntingly quiet.
Only the crunch of gravel beneath my shoes.
I turn left, then right.
Another turn.
Dead end.
I double back, my heart thumping harder, but I keep moving. I see a shadow slipping between the leaves two rows down.
This is not a game anymore. This is me realizing I fucked around too far, and now I’m about to find out.
He’s hunting me.
AndIasked for it.
I run faster, gripping the knife as the air burns in my throat. This isn’t the playful chase I imagined.
The maze stretches endlessly, and every turn feels like a trap. I don’t know where he is, but I know he’s getting closer.
Hell, I feel it.
The hairs on my neck rise just before I hear his voice.
“Ready or not, here I come.”
I turn around, but he’s not there.
“Cazzo,” I curse under my breath.
Screw this.
I press my back against the bushes and clutch the knife’s handle with both hands. My breath is ragged and my eyes roam around, trying to catch the tiniest movement.
Then I hear him again.
I don’t hesitate. I throw myself forward, and just like I thought, he’s there in front of me. The blade sinks into his palm, blood soaking into the wristbands.
I freeze, but he doesn’t even look at the wound.
He looks at me with a cold smirk, his head tilting slightly.
“I knew you had it in you,” he praises.
He paces closer, catching my wrist mid-swing. The knife clatters to the ground as his other hand closes around my throat.
