She waited for more, but there was nothing. Only the silence of the room. She tried to listen, but she couldn’t hear him breathing over the beat of ...ust in her ears. “Gabe?” she asked, slightly uncertain. There was no answer, but she imagined she could feel his eyes burning on her skin. She felt exposed, spread out like a piece of art at an exhibition. The bedroom door opened and closed again, and this time she could sense the fact that she was well and truly alone in the room. She strained her. She is in all black robes, and her bright red hair hangs down the cracked yellow mask she wears. A dark purple smile, thinly drawn, crosses the mask at an odd angle. I hear another chain rattle in the room, and realize I am not alone. I can't see anything but the TV, and before I can call out, the masked woman speaks;"Greetings," her voice is accent-less, almost like a machine, "I want to play a game." My heart pounds as I hear those words, whoever this bitch is, she thinks she is the killer. More

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