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I ran.

EIGHTEEN

I ran until my lungs burned.

Behind me, I could hear him.

Boots against the wooden door.

Steady.

Unhurried.

He wasn’t chasing me like last year.

He knew he was going to catch me.

And somehow, that made me run faster.

I burst through another doorway and found myself inside an old bedroom.

A rusted bed frame sat against one wall. Torn curtains moved in the breeze from a cracked window. The only light came from a flickering light bulb above the door.

I spun around.

Nothing.

I laughed breathlessly.

“You’re getting slow.” I teased.

Nothing.

I backed farther into the room.

“Or maybe I’m just getting faster.”

The door behind me creaked.

I turned.

He stood in the doorway.

My smile disappeared.

He shut the door.

Slowly.

My pulse jumped.

“Hi.”

No answer.

Of course not.

He walked towards me.