"Run, Rosalie, run," his deep voice sung, almost like a sick nursery rhyme. His words swirled around me, each syllable like a needle stabbing into my skin. I knew he was trying to torment me, but all I wanted to do was get away from him. I kept running, the muscles in my legs burning furiously, but I dared stop in case I was caught. "Everything you're running from, girl, is still in your head." I scrunched my face up, trying my hardest to ignore his words as I sped away from him. But I knew he was right. Even if I out ran him, his presence was still in my mind, slowly turning me insane. I heard his bellowing laugh behind me as cold hands gripped my waist from behind, sharp fingernails piercing into my skin. "Running from your problems is a race you'll never win," he whispered, his hot breath burning my ear. "I'll always beat you." And he was right.