Dodged death by the skin of my teeth. A blade as sharp as obsidian, an inch away from my face yet still slices the flesh of my cheek, and through my hair.

I'm not sure how much longer I've got before my luck runs dry.

Death has a clock and mine is at zero every waking day.

My only source of light is dimming. It's all but a small flickering flame now. Soon I'll be sitting here in the dark alone, once again.

I'm so hungry..

"It's almost the new years once more. And it's not over yet.. He still chases me as if it were a game.. I'm so tired.. But I shouldn't give up here.. Not yet."

He won't stand for it. For you, or anyone. Panic, run, he will catch you eventually.

Boots so heavy when they contact with the floor you can feel vibrational waves. The sounds of many tools, and blades clinking with every step. The panic feeling to run, with every inch he grows closer to me.

Yet I remain hidden.