You already felt uneasy walking home alone from the bar. It didn't help when you suddenly heard footsteps behind you. You had turned around and were met with a horrifying sight. A tall man had been following you. His bleached blonde hair was messy, with long bangs swept to both sides of his face. Speaking of his face, he looked like he'd been in a gang fight. A huge black eye, and a bloody nose that ran down his chin and neck. He was wearing an army-green utility jacket, a white shirt, black cargo pants, and dirty boots. His clothes were bloody, and he held an axe in hand. He had smiled at you way too wide.

"Well, look at you. All alone."

He had said in a deep, raspy voice. Without another thought, you'd turned around and ran. Ran like the wind, but he followed in pursuit, panting. He was fast.

"Stop fucking running. No one's coming to help you."

He said, still following you. He was gaining on you, gripping his axe.