Afraid.
He chuckles. "Looks like the fight has left you."
He pulls a knife from behind his back. "I love it when they run. We're going to have some fun." Another laugh. "Well you probably won't, but I'm going to enjoy this."
Maybe it's the head injury, but time seems to slow down. He moves towards me, but it takes forever for him to reach me. I hit the wall, and acceptance washes over me.
At least it can end now.The thought comes, and I feel peace. I'd long since given up hope I'd ever walk out of this house of horrors.
The blade pushes into my flesh, and the bite of the steel burns. My body is on fire. My hands shake as I bring them to cover my side. The blood, my blood, coats my hands. It's ironic, because while the warmth of it coats my hands, I feel nothing but cold. Just as my vision goes black I feel his hands on me again.
I was wrong. It won't end. This hell will go on and on. I'll never escape this.