It's dark.

I press my hand against my mouth to hide my ragged breathing. I would do anything right about now just to get out of this place.

If only I had listened to Chief Black and just gone home. But no, I had to be like those stupid girls in those stupid movies and go toward the source of mischief. You know what they say about curiousity and the cat.

"I think we're good to go," Patrick whispers.

I swallow and grab his hand, letting him lead me into another--hopefully safer--room. "Where'd he go?" I ask as quietly as I can manage.

Patrick shakes his head. "I don't know. We need to get out of here though. Now."

I follow him through the black room, taking extra caution to avoid bumping into anything and risk revealing our location. Even if we did both have a fully loaded pistol, and were trained field agents, I wasn't taking any chances. Anything can happen when you've got a psychopath on the loose.

Especially when that psychopath is after you.

I'm sure you want me to rewind, right? Because unless you're some super genius then you have no idea what's going on. I don't have much of an idea either, however I can give you the basic story.

My name is Claudia Blacklark and I work as a field agent for the FBI. A couple weeks ago I was assigned to a case involving a seriel killer. I thought I had caught him too. But as you can see, that didn't actually happen.

When I heard the guy was still alive I dragged my partner over to the house to investigate and found the exact man I came to find.

Now I'm stuck in a creepy house fending for my life with my partner while a maniac hunts us down. If we by any chance make it out out alive I'll never forgive myself for bringing Patrrick into this.

"Over here," Patrick says and gestures to a door in the far corner.

"How do you know we end up back where we started?" I ask.

"We have to try." His answer makes sense, I guess.

"Okay," I say. "We don't have any other choice."

When he opens the door I can just barely make out a staircase leading down. A basement. I'm not so sure I want to take that staircase, but as I said, we don't have another choice.

Patrick leads the way once again. My partner may not be my favorite person in the world, but at least he always insists on putting himself on the line instead of me.

"Do you think it's safe to turn on the flashlights?" I ask nervously.

"Just one."

I push the button on my flashlight, wincing as it makes a click sound. The sound isn't loud enough to attract much attention, but to me it could be a bomb.

"Let's go." I lead the way this time. I am the one with the flashlight after all.

It takes a moment for me to spot the passage since it's partiallly hidden from view. I hope that's a good sign. I don't see why someone would want to hide something unless they don't want it to be found. Other than it may be a trap.

I try not to think about that as we make our way down the long, dank passage with our pistols held in front of us. I've never been in such a frightening place. And I've seen some pretty creepy places.

At the end of the passege is yet another door, this one more ominous than the last. I reluctantly turn the knob and step in with my gun raised even higher. I can't shake the feeling that something very bad is about to happen.

"What is this place?" Patrick asks.

I examine the room as best as one can with a flashlight and feel all color drain from my face. "It's where he tortures his victims." I reply.

I point the beam at a bloodied screwdriver and other unpleasant torture devices and see Patrick give me a horrified look.

"It can't be," he protests.

I know he's only trying to assure himself that everything's going to be okay, but we both know that's not true. We're in the house of a maniac. We're on his territory and that crucial fact's not easily overlooked.

"Hey Claudia--" Patrick's interrupted by a sudden noise from the end of the passage.

"Hide!" I hiss as I switch off my flashlight.

We each dodge behind a cabinet--across the room from each other which makes me even more nervous--and crouch down, waiting for the door to open. It does.

"I know you're in here," a deep voice taunts. It's him.

He's in the room shuffling though all his stuff and looking behind possible hiding places. I'm glad I chose where I did to hide.

I hold my breath and keep as still as possible. My heart is pounding so hard, I'm sure he can hear it.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he chants and begans to sing:

"'And the flashlight shows you something moving just inside the door with a tattered dress and a feeling you have felt somewhere before...creepy doll!'"

Creepy Doll Song was his theme song. That's what he did. He would stalk a person and after kidnapping them, use their best feature for part of a doll he was making. And from what I had heard, the man had made several dolls already. That wasn't the worst part though. He would wait until after he took what he wanted to kill thim. The man was seriously twisted.

When more minutes have passed he's still looking for us he sighs. "I will find you," he says with determination. I hear him shuffle farther away and wait for him to leave.

It feels like forever has gone by when the door finally creaks shut and the room goes quiet again.

"Okay Patrick, let's go." I carefully crawl to where my partner is and give a terrified gasp.

Protruding from his chest is the end of a rusty blade and his wide eyes are looking straight at me. "Run!" he wheezes.

I give him one last look before turning to leave and cautiously stand up. Only a few feet more to the door. I wrench the rotting thing open and see him standing right in front of me.

"Surprise!"

I scream.