It all started with three words. Just three little words that, to most people, hold little to no significance in their day to day lives.

Come on in-!

You were young, you tell yourself. Foolish, even. But you know that's not true, not really. A little naive, perhaps, but not foolish. How were you to know, after all? How were you to know that the sweet, charming Irishman that dropped by your family's farmhouse that night wasn't who he claimed to be?

You ran all night, bare footed through the forest, the screams of your parents echoing through the trees until the sun poked up from below the horizon, and you physically couldn't walk anymore. Collapsing down into the grass with a ragged sob, your feet were bloodied from the rough ground, your clothing and skin ripped open from the tree branches in your panic induced escape.

And now, here you stand. Months of running, of hiding, all for nought as you catch sight of those ominous, glowing eyes through the screened window of the house you're squatting in. A tilt of his head as he taps at the window, the air feeling like it had dropped a few degrees as that sweet, taunting Irish accent sings through the night air

"Come on now, darlin'... I've been tracking you from that pretty little farm for months now, ain't you tired of runnin' yet?"

You feel a chill run down your spine, you know the rules, you've done a lot of research since that night on what he is. His weaknesses, his strengths, you hold the power, you hold the cards. Just don't let him in.

Don't invite him in.