When the bloody scene unfolded before her, the man taking up the hatchet and running at his victim with deadly purpose, Hannah’s knees jerked absurdly, and she felt herself begin to dance, inexplicably, as she watched helplessly from the shadows. Her eyes flickered in the dim light, but the grotesque smile marring her face was a wooden mask. Behind her, the boy chuckled darkly.

Hannah felt her left arm rise above her head and come down, as final as the last cutscene in a survival horror game.

The killer mimicked her motions, and the blade of the hatchet complied, catching the light of the lantern and holding onto it. Whoosh! It landed with sharp precision in the centre of the strange woman’s brow, separating the segment between her eyes, as though finally freeing them from the captivity of her face. A guttural sob was wrenched from deep within her chest. She dangled pathetically for a long moment. Her assailant wrestled with the hatchet, finally yanking it free with a hideous squelch, like someone trying to extract a plunger from a toilet clogged with the corpses of a thousand unwanted goldfish. Her lifeless body crumpled and fell to the floor, as useless as a broken accordion. The large house grew silent. Not even the threatening whispers of all its past victims could be heard. They were too enamoured of the newest recruit added to their total.

In the aftermath of the violent spectacle, Hannah’s overwhelmed brain had revolted against the brutality of her actions, and she stood frozen in place. But the expression on her face was gleeful, reflecting the savage conceit of the puppet master.