Quick grip as rubber meets pavement
alone, she runs, a pounding repetition.
It’s the only thing keeping up
with the desperate throbbing of her heart
just the way he likes it.
Street lights flicker
with every heavy step.
His worn black boots
coated with thick bits of blood,
they echo across an ocean of asphalt.
She can hear his ax
scraping against the street,
its sleek edge
sparking as it drags
slowly, steadily approaching.
Her bleary brown eyes close
and she conceals her breath
while steeling her nerves.
Tonight this ends for one of them.
His grip tightens around the splintered handle.
His breathing, once composed and even, becomes primal.
Dead set on dealing death
he raises his ax
to hack and slash his way to her heart.
Little does he know
she’s been waiting for this moment.
She raises her knife
and the Final Girl fights
for her life.