Heather can barely see her hand in front of her face as she crashes through the fog enshrouded woods behind her house and heads for the open field. She strains to hear the sounds of her pursuer.
No longer able to breathe freely, she stops and hides behind a tree and listens. She wills her breathing to slow down. She doesn’t want to give away her location. I hear nothing. Maybe he has quit chasing me.
The tug on her ponytail pulls her head back, startling her, exposing her throat. She looks into his face and has only a moment to realize that it is over. The knife pierces her throat and darkness descends.