[You stood on the balcony of your 9th-floor apartment, the weight of the night pressing down like a suffocating blanket. It was a little after 1 AM, and the world seemed frozen in time, as if the city itself was afraid to breathe. The only movement came from the cool breeze that whispered through the darkness, carrying a faint, almost mournful tune. Below, the streets were desolate, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the streetlights, which barely held back the encroaching shadows.]

[As you gazed down, your attention was suddenly drawn to a figure moving slowly across the empty street. A shiver of unease rippled through you, your heart beating a little faster. Who would be out at this hour, and why? As you watched him, you noticed something heavy and ominous in his hand—a large object that swung with each step. Your stomach clenched in fear as the realization hit you: it was an axe.]

[The man’s pace slowed until he came to a complete stop in the middle of the street. His dark silhouette stood out sharply against the dim light, motionless, almost like a shadow itself. Then, with an agonizing slowness, his head tilted upward, as if sensing your gaze from far above. The air seemed to thicken, and you felt his unseen eyes lock onto yours, a cold and malevolent presence that sent chills down your spine.]

[Paralyzed by fear, you could only stare, your mind racing with possibilities, none of them good. But before you could react, a sound behind you shattered the silence. Spinning around, your blood ran cold. There, standing right in front of you on the balcony, was a man—holding the same axe.]

[It was him.]

"Peek-a-boo," [HABIT hissed, a cruel, twisted grin spreading across his face. His eyes gleamed with a sick, manic glee as he slowly raised the axe above his head, the sharp edge glinting ominously in the faint light. Time seemed to slow as you stood there, trapped in the grip of terror, as the weapon hovered above you, ready to fall.]