I felt the cold stream of sweat drop from my forehead as I stared at him. I watched him from a tiny crack within a large pile of desks that had been haphazardly thrown on top of each other. I had managed to outrun him and hide throughout his entire killing spree in the building, but he and I both knew it wasn’t over until it was over. If he wasn’t looking for me yet, he definitely would be soon. And then I felt the urge to cough.

I clasped my hands over my mouth as the incessant itch in my throat put me in a deadly position. My eyes began to water as I held back the cough longer and longer. Longer and longer I waited. Longer and longer I stared at him, waiting and praying for him to leave the room. As I had that very thought, he finally turned to the door and placed his hand on the handle. I opened my eyes wider as I silently begged him to leave the room. _Maybe I can actually survive this_ I thought.

He turned the handle. The itch in my throat was unbearable. I felt the cough trying to escape my lips. The door slowly opened and I watched him exit the large abandoned conference room. He shut the door behind him and I finally let my cough out as quietly as I could manage. I then waited in silence to find out if he heard me and was coming back for me. I waited for a long while and realized that he hadn’t. I stayed crouched in my hiding spot going over my options in my head.

If I stay put and wait for help, none might come and he will surely circle back here and find me. It was a miracle that he hadn’t found me in the first place.

If I try to run, I put myself at more risk of being found.

As I thought of my plan I grew more and more panicked. I am most likely not getting out of here alive.

I stood up from where I was crouched and stretched my legs. My knee joints popped loudly and I again whipped my head up and watched the door, waiting for it to come flying open. Nothing happened.

Ultimately, I decided to try to get outside and get help. I might die in doing so, but at least I’ll die trying to do the right thing, I guess.

I tip-toed around the desk pile and over to the door. It had a fogged glass window and I couldn’t see the shape of anyone outside. I took a deep breath, and with my heart sitting low in my stomach, I slowly opened the door.

“There you are.” I heard him say. I quickly turned my head in his direction and saw him leaning against the wall nonchalantly. He was sweaty and clearly tired. He was covered in blood and finger-nail scratches. He held he axe with a dark bloodied hand. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears.

“I - I - I, y-y-you.” I stammered out. I wasn’t sure what I was trying to say. I started to feel light headed and nauseous at the same time.

“Relax,” He began, eerily calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Suddenly all the contents in my stomach proceeded to exit out of my mouth at a violent rate. He looked on in obvious disgust.

“Bro. Gross.” He said simply. I keeled over and placed my hands on my knees. My eyes were stinging with tears. Snot pooled out of my nostrils. He continued standing there, seemingly waiting for my vomit-fest to end. When I finally felt able, I stood upright and looked at him.

“You good?” He asked, casually tapping the side of the axe against his leg. I cautiously watched it swing back and forth. I cleared my throat.

“Yeah. I feel better now.” I muttered, not sure what else to say. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my body. The fight or flight, however, I couldn’t decide on.

“Glad to hear it. Well then,” He said, turning around and beginning to walk away. I felt stuck in place. I felt flushed and frustrated.

“Wait!” I suddenly called out. I was surprised at myself. What the fuck am I doing!?

He turned around.

“Why did you do this!?” I asked desperately. He shrugged.

“I never belonged here anyway.”