HUNTER

12

"You shouldn't be here," he snarls, his grip on my arms tightening.
"What is this?" I cry, stumbling back dragging myself out of his grasp. He follows me, keeping his eyes on me as though I was a deer who would run at any second. His hands outstretched just in case I tried to flee. "Who are these people, how could you do that?" I cry, pointing at the poor souls in his collection. He reaches for me but I step out of reach and belt for the portrait. Ripping it from the wall I hold it in one hand and place my foot in the centre of the canvas adding just enough pressure to see the horror in his eyes. "Let me the fuck out of here, now!" I demand, watching as he eyes me warily. Not sure how to react without causing me to damage his precious portrait. "Angelica, let me explain!"
"Sure," I interrupt with a shriek. "You can explain why my name is in that fucking case!" He opens his mouth to speak but, again, I interrupt, "you can also tell me why there are dead girls who look like me in your fucking house, in a secret room!"
"Angelica, put her down." He warns. His eyes darkening and posture turning from defensive to aggressive. Everything about him screamed dangerous. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. "Release her." He ordered, walking towards me as though I was a naughty child and needed discipline, as soon as possible. He tore the portrait from my grasp. His hand connecting with my cheek sent me flying to the floor with a loud smack against the marble floor. Stumbling to my feet I kick off my slippers and shoot for the door, not stopping to look back until I'd closed it behind me. Trying to catch my breath, I quickly look for something to defend myself with but I had a sneaky feeling a bottle of aftershave and a toothbrush wouldn't work. Sliding into the hallway like something out of Fast and Furious, I run down the stairs into the kitchen snatching a kitchen knife and hiding behind the big screen TV and its stand in the living room. Praying to god it hid me well as footsteps slowly made their way downstairs, taunting me. I tried to calm my breathing, and my grip on the knife tightened to the point of pain. The footsteps roamed around the open plan house. Then his voice made me jump at the sudden viciousness of it, "Angelica, sweetheart, there's nowhere to go. You're just going to hurt yourself. Come on out and I promise I won't kill you."
Fuck you arsehole, I thought. He would kill me on sight, I knew how horror movies worked. My only choice was to find the code, and hopefully not die in the process. The code hadn't been in his room, or his collection room, so it must be on him. But how the hell was I supposed to get it without him noticing or, me, not dying horribly? My mind churned, and the footsteps got louder. As I mentally tired out all the other options, I had only one left. In the meantime, the footsteps had stopped. At the other side of the TV.