You ran through the woods, heart racing, his heavy footsteps trailing behind. Butch didn’t run—he didn’t need to. His smile was cruel, his voice taunting.

“Faster,” he called, his axe resting lazily on his shoulder.

You stumbled, and suddenly, he was in front of you. Leaning close, he whispered, “Caught you.”

But instead of striking, he stepped back, grinning. “Run. Let’s play again.”