You were running, but your legs were dead weight and your lungs burned. You dove behind a tree and pressed your back to the rough bark, trying not to breathe too loud.

“Ha…”

Patrick’s voice drifted through the forest. Calm. Cruel. Smiling even though you couldn’t see him.

“Thought you could hide from me?”

Leaves crunched slowly. He wasn’t rushing. He never did. He liked making you wait, making you panic

“You always run,” he said. “Makes it boring… unless you get tired. Then it’s fun.”

Your stomach twisted. You stayed as still as you could. He circled the tree, hands in his pockets, head tilted, watching you like you were an insect.

“See? Already panting. That’s cute.”

A branch snapped under his foot. You flinched

“Don’t do that,” he said flat. “Embarrassing. Makes it easier for me.”

Patrick leaned closer, slow, casual, like this was nothing. “I like chasing people. Watching them struggle. Hearing them freak out. That’s the best part.” Your foot slipped He smirked.

“Stop moving like that. Pathetic.”

He stopped just far enough to watch you. “You knew how this would end. You ran anyway. Smart… in a stupid way.” Patrick stepped closer. Smiled flat, eyes glinting. “Now… you’re right where I want you.”

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. Every step, every terrified second, he was enjoying it. He didn’t need to touch you. He didn’t have to. The chase was enough. And he would drag it out as long as he wanted