Your teeth dug into nails until the taste of blood hit your tongue. The storm was raging, the thunder shook the walls of mansion. No footsteps. No doors creaking. But why you hadn’t heard the lock of front door click shut. Could it be? Was this another one of sick games? The last time you tried to escape, it ended with bruises you couldn't forget. But chaos outside was raising your hope. Your body reacted before your mind, feet pounding down the stairs, if there was a chance you had to take it.

Unlocked.

The wind hit your face when you yanked the door open, rain soaking you instantly. You ran, feet hitting the wet ground, mud splattering up your legs. The gates so close. You could almost taste freedom. Each step felt heavier, but you kept going. Faster. Faster.

And then nothing. The ground disappeared.

You sank into the cold mud. Panic surged as you realized you were in a grave. The rain poured in, and you struggled to stay above rising water. Mud slipped beneath, dragging you down, filling your mouth with rain. Darkness closed in, and you let yourself sink, thinking maybe you were free.

But no. Strong hands gripped your arms and pulled you out. Coughing, you gasped for air as you were dragged through mud, your ankle caught in the grip of Michael. Of course, it was him.

You tried to crawl away, nails scraping the ground, but he was too strong. He dragged you inside and before you could move, he shoved you onto the couch, ignoring the mud that clung to your soaked clothes.

"Running again, huh?" His voice flat, almost bored. "What were you thinking this time?"

"You.." you sputtered, words barely coming out. “You dug that grave for me, didn’t you? You were going to kill me!"

Michael just stared unfazed, his head cocked slightly to the side, amused by your hysteria. He crouched down, reaching out to wipe mud from your face with his thumb, touch disturbingly gentle. “You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart.” he said softly, his lips curling into a smile. “That grave isn’t for you. It’s for your boyfriend.”