The Boy With The Motorcycle

The nausea passes, and I take another step towards the house. I am caught off guard by a zooming noise, and my ears start ringing. I look behind me, to investigate the sound. A motorcycle speeds down the dirt path of the forest. Dirt erupts behind him, and his foot presses down on the gas harder as he approaches.
He must see me? Right? He must see that I am here. I move out from behind the car, and wave at him. He doesn't notice, and continues, faster and faster, the zooming sound getting louder and louder.
I stand stiff, too afraid to move, realizing he is headed right towards me. My brain shouts at my legs to sidestep out of the way, but they refuse. I freeze, as if a spotlight has just appeared on me and I am so nervous I forgot all of the words I am supposed to say. The only thing I can get my brain to say is, "Stop!" but he doesn't. He is practically on me. This is it, if you don't move, you will die. But my body is too afraid, my hands shaking, and my eyes staring. The black and red monster halts, just a few inches away from me.
The guy removes his helmet, angrily. "Tess?" he looked as if he was about to shout, but he changes his tone when he recognizes me.
"Patrick ?" I respond, my eyes widening as I remember.