I stand there for a few seconds in total silence, until I hear a dripping sound. It’s accompanied by heavy, animal-like breathing, and it right behind me. I turn around and all I can see is darkness. Then, from out of the darkness a voice speaks. It’s not Ben.

“He is coming.”

“Wh-what?” There is no answer. Only more heavy breathing and it almost sounds like whatever it is, is choking. I suddenly remember that I brought my flashlight with me, so I swiftly swing my backpack off of my shoulder and unzip the zipper. I fumble around for the flashlight until I can feel the cold, plastic handle. I pull it out, re-zip my backpack, and put it back on. I turn on my flashlight and my heart drops into my stomach. What I see is only something I would see in my worst nightmares. 

Before me, stands someone who only I would know as “Ben”, but to anyone else, a monster. “Ben” now has the same black liquid that Emily had dripping from his eyes. The slit that Emily had made in his throat is open and dripping with blood. His black hoodie, white football jersey and tan corduroy are splattered and in some cases, drenched in blood and black ink. His legs look as if he is melting into black ink. He is gripping his axe in his left hand and is shaking slightly. I take a step back. He looks up and the biggest smile I have ever seen spreads across his face. He doesn’t move, he looks at me and says one word.

“R u n.”

I hesitate for a moment, and then finally snap out of it. I take one more look at “Ben” before I take off running. Not even two seconds after I start running, I hear quick, heavy footsteps right behind me. This of course, makes me run faster. I run to the kitchen, where the door is already busted open from last time. Now, I’m outside running through the woods. This seems all too familiar. Once again, my legs are on fire with adrenaline and my heart is beating at a million miles and hour.

I can’t stop. I know that it’s not Ben who is chasing me. Just like it wasn’t Emily who was chasing me the last time I was here. It’s whatever that monster is. So I know that if it catches me, I’ll be next. I don’t want to die. I want to go home. I wish this was all just a dream, then I could wake up in my bed like all those other times. But no, here I am. This is real. I’m gonna die. I keep running, dodging low-hanging branches and nearly tripping over tree roots that are sticking out of the ground. Once again, this is all too familiar.

“Maybe if I can get out of the woods before he catches up to me, I’ll be safe. I can run to a neighbor’s house and call the police.” I think to myself. I snap out of my thoughts. No time to think, I need to run. I think I can almost see the edge of the woods, but it’s still pretty far away. I can still hear his footsteps getting closer and closer. 

The sounds of crunching snow and snapping sticks is unnerving. His heavy breathing seems to drown out my own and echo all throughout the forest. My lungs are starting to ache and my legs are begging for me to stop. But I can’t, or I’ll be next. Finally, I somehow ditch him. I can no longer hear his heavy footsteps or breathing. Normally, this would comfort me, but it’s even more unnerving than when he was chasing me. I don’t know whether to keep running, or to stop. My legs are begging, screaming at me to stop. But something else is telling me to keep going. I don’t know who to listen to.

Finally, I get an answer—from out of nowhere, a tree root that is sticking out of the ground jumps out at me, and I trip. I fall, hard. So hard that the necklace flies out of my front pocket and lands a few feet in front of me, slightly covered in the snow. Every last bit of breath is knocked out of me, and for a few seconds I just lay there, stunned. After a while, I shakily try to sit up. My arms, legs, knees and elbows are beat up really bad. 

My knees and elbows are scratched and bleeding. My arms and legs are bruised, bleeding and weak. My bones ache. Luckily, I didn’t hit my head or I might have gotten a concussion. For the moment, all of my fear and panic have worn off. However, the adrenaline has stayed. I sit there in a daze for what seems like hours until I suddenly remember that I should be running. As I gather all of my remaining strength, I try to stand up. It takes a couple of tries and then I’m back on my feet. I half run, half stumble my way through the woods. I nearly trip over a few more roots and only make it a few yards before I collapse onto my knees. I try to stand up again but for some reason, my legs are too weak and buckle under any pressure I try to put on them. After a few minutes of trying to stand up, I begin to give up.

Suddenly, I begin to hear faint, but growing louder, heavy breathing and slow footsteps. Adrenaline pierces my heart and I quickly try to move behind a tree. I need to hide. The snow that is being crunched under his feet, along with his ever growing louder heavy breathing, echo throughout the forest. I make it behind a tree just before he sees me, I hope. After a few more minutes of hiding, I see him. 

He’s still gripping his bloody axe in his left hand, and breathing heavily. I don’t dare to move or even breathe, for he might see or hear me. Suddenly, he stops. My heart is pounding in my chest, I hope he can’t hear it. The forest is dead quiet, except for his now soft, heavy breathing. He stays in one position, listening, until I hear him say something.