In a twisted game of cat and mouse, a young woman becomes dangerously entangled with a masked serial killer she has been obsessively stalking, leading to a bizarre and clandestine relationship that blurs the line between prey and predator.
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"PLEASE!" I BEG. My knees are starting to get weak as crippling fear begins to hug them. "Don't hurt us!"
My words just fall into deaf ears when he strikes his knife down on Harlow. The sharp tip enters through Harlow's chest. He continues to push it deeper into his flesh until all of the blade's length is buried in his body. Blood erupts from his mouth as Harlow wakes up. He glances at the masked man that towers over him, then to the knife sticking out in the middle of his chest. As realization kicks in, Harlow screams in pure terror. However, his mouth is quickly covered by the couch pillow, blocking any noises he tries to make. Then, the White Rabbit begins to stab again the Cheshire Cat. He moves his hand with the knife for the third stab, fourth stab, fifth stab - until I have lost count.
I should've stop him. I should've run. But it seems like my feet are glued to the ground, as if fear has wrapped and locked its shackles around my legs. I couldn't move. I couldn't fucking move. And I don't know what to do.
The masked intruder only withholds his knife away once Harlow is nothing but a meat full of holes. His violated body is drenched in blood, staining his once perfectly gray suit. I grow cold when I realize that he's no longer screaming nor struggling. He's not moving anymore. He's...
A tear slipped from my eye. It runs its languid course down on my chin.
The man clad in black with the head of a monstrous cartoonish white rabbit shifts his focus on me. At that moment, I feel like the devil is staring at me, demanding a piece of my soul to possess. I have never felt this scared before.
He slightly cocks his head at his side, as if eyeing me curiously. Then, he lifts up his bloody hands with the bloody knife and points it at me... indicating that I am next.
Fuck.
I bring all of my remaining strength to make my body move and scramble away. I quickly run through the hallway, toward the main door. My heart feels like it wants to fly away from my ribcage.
Just a few steps from the door, I fall down. Not because I tripped, but because I felt an excruciating pain on the back of my left leg. I glance at it to check, and my jaws drop when I see a knife sticking out from my leg, squirting blood everywhere. In pure shock, my breath hitches as my stomach clenches. I am so shocked, I can't even scream.
At the end of the hallway, there he stands. His White Rabbit mask is marred by Harlow's blood, mapping its monstrous fucked up face with red. Turns out that he has hurled his knife at me, and it successfully brought me down. His huge shadow lingers behind him like an ominous cape. His stance is simply provoking and frightening, and yet at the same time, he stays calm, but alert.
He saunters closer to me, approaching me with predatory careful steps. Such frightening appearance revives back my adrenaline rush, enabling me to get back up quickly and drag myself to limp from him. The knife is still there stabbed to my leg, but because I have learned that if I pulled the blade out recklessly, it would only worsen my situation.
