I had been scared before. So scared that I had screamed bloody murder. I had felt fear before, as fear was a dear companion in my line of work. But what I felt right now, at this very moment, was on a completely different level to any prior experience. This was a fear so strong that my body couldn't move an inch. No scream would dare leave my lips. Although my body knew I was in danger, could sense that I was about to die, it could not react. Every sense was so blinded by intense terror that my body could not make even the slightest muscle move, except for the instinctive repetitive motions of breathing.
Even then my breaths were ragged and uneven. I gagged on the thickness of the air that swirled around me. I wanted desperately to run. I wanted to run until I found something, anything, that I could hold, hide behind, and push myself into. I wanted to cower, bow down to this fear, submit to it. But I was rooted to the spot and whatever was behind me was slowly getting closer.
Every hair on my body stood on end, every follicle aching with the tension. I felt exhausted even though I had not moved for several minutes. I felt a presence behind me.
I stiffened, every single part of me tensed and grossly disfigured, with the strain of trying to become invisible to whatever stalked me in this pitch black abyss. And then I heard a long, hoarse breath that seemed to slither like a snake around my neck. It was freezing cold; it was the breath of death. It was only then that my lungs exploded with a scream that shook my soul.