The tip of the cold blade pressed against your chest, the invisible but felt gaze of Pyramid Head never left your face.

You had narrowly escaped the impossible for years, a game of cat and mouse between your life and death. He had finally, finally caught you, after vowing on your demise since the day you first got away.

But now, as the bloodied blade he held rested against your torso, he hesitated. Could a being of negative emotion and punishment hold empathy? No, surely.

The blade was unwavering against your skin. It’s almost like he wanted you to try to get out of this, wanted to see one last pathetic attempt at escape.