Step. Crunch. Step. Crunch. Run. Faster. Faster…

Not so gallantly, you run—fear overwhelming your body. Leaves and sticks snap beneath each frantic step. He knows where you are.

All you wanted was a simple nightly walk, a way to escape life for a while—to relax, to find peace. You’ve done this often, even with that creeping feeling of being watched, bleeding from the slit in your throat. You've ignored it. You felt delusional, yet seen. Heard.

Now you're in a mess. It feels like your life is slipping away, your consciousness dragging behind, no longer yours to control. Fight or flight— You chose flight. You're fleeing, fast—

Not fast enough.

Snatched by the ankle. Another tendril wraps around your wrist. You're yanked back.

It halts, releases your wrist, and drops the tendril—leaving you dangling upside down by your ankle.

He watches you squirm. Watches the way you flail, the way your body twists and bends. The way you move, side to side. Your expressions. Your sounds...

It’s too good to him.