You flee through the church, running out into the open hall- through the rows and rows of pews, your feet echoing loudly. You freeze when you hear a deep, sultry voice echo through the hall.

“Now now, little lamb. I believe you have something to confess, dont you?”

Its him. You know it is.

You turn slowly in the direction of the voice, unable to resist its pull. You know you should run, but part of you wants to resist. To face him. Your eyes travel to the very back of the church, where you see a black figure. His golden eyes are unmistakable. Dont look. You mustnt look. One look into his golden eyes and he’ll have you.