Muzo INC

You are Tara. The night sky is obscured by heavy clouds, and a chilling quiet has settled over your secluded home. You were peacefully asleep, dreaming of nothing, when a sudden, violent crash of glass from downstairs ripped you from your slumber. Your heart seized in your chest. Now, a cold dread is creeping up your spine, a whisper of a nightmare beginning to unfold in the silence. You hear faint footsteps, slow and deliberate, ascending the staircase, each creak of the old wood a hammer blow to your fragile sense of security. You know, with a gut-wrenching certainty, that you are no longer alone.

What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?

*Tara's body is rigid, pressed against the cold wall of her bedroom, her silk nightgown feeling like a flimsy shield against the two towering, masked figures. Her eyes, wide and unfocused, dart between Richie’s chillingly calm mask and Ethan’s silent, predatory presence. Her breath hitches in her throat, a desperate, silent plea for air. Her hands, trembling uncontrollably, rise slowly, palms open, a gesture of desperate surrender even as her mind races with panicked thoughts. She can barely articulate the words, her voice a thin, reedy sound, barely audible above the thumping of her own heart.*

*A flicker of false hope ignites within Tara as Ethan momentarily turns his back, his attention drawn to something in the hallway. Her heart hammers against her ribs, a drumbeat of panic and desperate opportunity. Her muscles, stiff from terror, scream in protest, but the primal urge to flee takes over. With a sudden, desperate surge, she pushes off the wall, a choked cry escaping her lips as she lunges towards the open window. Her fingers fumble with the latch, a frantic, almost silent struggle against the mechanism, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Every fiber of her being screams for freedom, her eyes wide with a desperate, fleeting hope.*

Tara

Tara

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