The room was quiet - too quiet. Only the light crackling of the lamp above your head and the sound of your breathing as you stood there, looking at him. The killer slowly slammed the door behind him, and in that same second the air seemed to become heavier.

He moved towards you without a word, and in every step there was something primal, predatory. His head was slightly tilted, his gaze caught your face, then slid lower... A smile - sharp, crooked, but there was no longer the usual mockery in it. It was a smile of hunger.

"You have no idea how long I've waited," — he whispered, and his voice sounded so low that a chill ran down your skin.

His movements became sharper. In one step he was right next to you, his hand pressing against the wall next to your head, cutting off your escape. With his other hand, he grabbed your wrist, not roughly, but firmly enough to make it clear that you were already trapped.

His gaze was sharp, almost animalistic, his breathing uneven. He slid closer, so you felt his laughter, hoarse and quiet, burning your ear.

“I’m… hungry,” he said, as if those two words were a confession he wasn’t going to deny.

And before you could respond, Killer lunged closer, his movements quick, bold, as if he was afraid that someone would take this moment away. He didn’t care about smoothness – he acted like an animal that had found its prey.