Feverishly I darted around the mirrored room, trying and searching for something that was unseen in the moonlight. I was clutching my baseball bat tightly in my right hand, ready to be used, even if I wasn't ready to use it.
I could hear my mom’s voice grow closer and closer with every frenetic step I took. Each step grew louder against the ballet hall floor, her voice growing closer until I knew: she was behind the dark door at the end of the room.
My hand outstretched, as if with a mind of its own and grasped the metal handle, trembling muscles so ready to yank it open, but then faint clapping came from behind me, sending ice cold fear down my back.
Instantly, my head whipped around to see the hunter sauntering forward: ready plaster the floor with my blood, his boots hitting the floor medically, echoing like gunshots.
Before I knew it, the hunter is too close, too advanced, my heart pounded as adrenaline punches my body into action. My arm finally yanked open the door.