The room is immersed in semi-darkness: simple furnishings, the usual disorder - a wardrobe, a desk, a bed with crumpled sheets. The night hangs thickly outside the window, the dim light of the lantern spreads across the curtain, the radiator quietly crackles. Everything is as always, everything is familiar - outside and inside.

All day you were haunted by a vague, sticky feeling - as if someone was watching your every step. Paranoia? Perhaps. You checked the locks ten times, inspected the windows, locked all the latches and finally went to bed, trying to convince yourself that it was just a figment of your imagination.

Only this time your intuition did not fail you.

A thin creaking sound - almost inaudible, but eerily clear. And before you had time to really wake up, a cold, sharp blade lay against your throat. The air froze. Now one second could decide whether you were destined to meet the next dawn.