He was just behind that bend in the wall. The light from the bedroom skylight glowed dimly around the corner, and she could see his shadow moving on the floorboards. Her pulse pounded in her ears, the pain in her leg forgotten. She gripped the poker in a death grip and pressed herself into the bend where the wall met the railing, praying he couldn’t see her in this dim light, because if I can’t see him then he can’t see me, right, oh God, don’t let him know I’m here, please.

She waited, the poker cocked and trembling, watching the entrance to the hall beside her where he would first appear. There was only darkness and shadows and the thin, high creaking of the floorboards. This is insane, this is not happening. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and then opened them, trying to wish it all away, straining to hold herself together, concentrating so hard that when Amanda Seigel finally did come through the archway, Helen had to hold herself back from swinging that poker as hard as she could.

“Jesus,” the woman said. “What happened to you?”

Helen collapsed to the floor, sobbing. She heard the poker ring faintly as it fell beside her legs. The woman crouched beside her.

“You’re going to be all right, but you have to listen to me,” the woman said. “I’ve lost track of everyone. Where is Jonathan? Do you know?”

Jonathan? Helen thought, confused. She looked up to see a shiny, flat, silver blade poking out of the hallway shadows like some obscene phallic symbol, and then he took another step and she was staring straight into the huge man’s eyes, not two feet behind them, his face running with blood, lips and cheeks lined with white scars. A demon straight out of her deepest, darkest nightmares.

She screamed. The woman next to her turned on her haunches and was struck in the side of her face by his fist. Helen saw blood and a broken tooth, and she grabbed for the poker, pushing up with her one good leg and swinging it with all her strength. It connected with a soft, satisfying thud in his midsection, and he doubled over with a woof of air, dropping the knife. Helen let the poker slip from her grasp to the floor as she stood, frozen in terror, the man right in front of her. The other woman lay against the wall, several feet away, silent and still.

Until now, as frightened as she had been, it hadn’t been real, not this part about a killer hunting for her in her own house, and now that she was faced with the proof of him, she stood rooted to the floor like a wild animal caught in the headlights.