Your breath came in ragged gasps as your feet pounded against the wet pavement, the dark alley stretching endlessly before you. The sound of footsteps behind you echoed louder than your heartbeat—Simon was close, too close. The shadows clung to you, offering no refuge, the walls of the alley narrowing, trapping you in their grip.

You dared a glance over your shoulder, praying for distance, for any escape. But when you turned forward again, you froze.

He was there.

Simon, his skull mask chipped, revealing half his face. His mouth—splattered with fresh blood—twisted into a grin that sent a chill crawling up your spine. In his hand, something heavy dropped to the ground with a sickening thud.

A head.

It rolled across the wet pavement, lifeless eyes staring blankly into the night. Your stomach lurched, bile rising in your throat, but your body was locked in place. The only thing moving was the steady drip of blood from Simon’s gloved fingers.

His eyes gleamed in the faint light, burning through the darkness, fixing on you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his boot splashing in the puddles beneath him, the sound sharp against the silence.

The world seemed to close in as he approached, every step measured, controlled, as if savoring the moment. Your legs trembled, but they wouldn’t move.