Zane doesn't move.
He doesn't talk.
He just stands there looking at me with those blank eyes.
"Zane?" I whisper, trying hard to ignore the waves of fear coursing through me.
He says nothing.
I want to run out of the room but I couldn't move my feet even if I tried. Every part of my body is frozen, and the hair at my nape is prickling with fear.
What is wrong with me? Am I hallucinating all this?
I discreetly pinch myself. I'm definitely not hallucinating anything.
I look at the spooky figure standing before me fora short second, then I turn on my heel and bolt for the door.
I pull the door open, and I gasp when I find the figure standing right at the other side. What the fuck?!
I quick turn around to look at Zane.
The spot he was standing in a few seconds ago is empty.
How on earth did he move that fast?
I turn back to him, trying hard to ignore the chill in my bones.
He's blocking my way so the only option I have is to walk backwards into the basement I'm trying to escape.
He steps in after me, and I gasp when the door slams itself shut behind him.
I'm now trapped in this cold room with my dead; or rather undead fiancé, and it's the scariest experience I've ever had my entire life.
I regret wishing for Zane's return.
"Please don't hurt me." I beg when he keeps taking small steps towards me.
His dead lips tremble as he parts them, but no voice comes out. All I can see is the very black teeth.
They're scary as hell and everything about his face is making me cower with fear, but there's no way I'm escaping him. First, he's standing in my way and second, I'm rooted on the spot. My legs are just too heavy to carry me.
He stretches his pale hand to touch me, and when I step backwards, he steps after me.
I gasp when I hit the wall with my back.
_He's not gonna hurt you._ My mind keeps yelling. _He loves you._
A week ago, I'd have believed that, but right now, not so much. This creepy figure with dead eyes and rotting flesh is not Zane. This creature looks like it climbed straight out of hell.
"Please let me go." I whisper, a fat tear rolling down my left cheek.
In response, he reaches forward and places his hand on my wrist.
I scream.
That doesn't deter him, though.
He moves even closer, his blank eyes trying to hold mine, and I whimper with dread when he lifts his free hand and cups my cheek.
The falling flesh on his hands smell like death.
"Let me go. Please." I whimper, trying hard not to breath in. Every time I do, the rancid smell of rotten flesh fills my lungs and I have to hold myself back from vomiting.
I don't think the demon standing before me would appreciate that.
I stay still, fear crippling me as my eyes meet his. His fingers are gentle on my cheek but the cold is making chill bumps form all over my body.
