You sprint into the kitchen, every instinct screaming at you to move faster. The door to the backyard is just ahead. No fence, no barriers, just open space and the faint, desperate hope that a neighbor will hear you.
You slam the door open and bolt into the night.
The air is cold, sharp against your burning lungs. Behind you, the sound of pounding footsteps tears through the silence. It moves unnaturally fast, closing the distance like a predator on the hunt.
You push harder, eyes locked on the house ahead. You begin to scream in hopes that someone, anyone will hear you.
Your legs give out from exhaustion, causing you to hit the ground, body trembling. The world tilts, the edges of your vision swimming in darkness.
It stands before you. Your own face staring back. That same empty, unnerving smile frozen in place. But it doesn’t strike. It doesn’t move.
It just watches.
Then, without a sound, it turns, drops onto all fours, and disappears into the trees.
You lie there, panting, staring at it long after it’s gone.
You survived. This time