Isabella's POV

Isabella stumbled through the darkened woods, flashlight shaky in her trembling grip. Its light flitted between the trees like a frightened butterfly. Somewhere in the trees behind her, there was the sound of a cracking twig. She let out a gasp and whirled around, a look of terror on her face. She ran her flashlight around the trees for a moment, before deciding there wasn't anything there. She turned back around and started stumbling through the forest again.

Occasionally, she would turn around and look over her shoulder, like there was something chasing her. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps. Her clothes were ripped and torn, and the satchel slung over her shoulder looked like it was held together with spit and prayers.

In the late-night darkness, and with Isabella's fragile state of mind, her environment seemed malevolent, even hostile. Their branches seemed like tentacles, reaching out to seize her and pull her in. Whenever she ran into a branch, she would gasp in panic, and then realize it was just a branch and keep running.

Of course, given the circumstances, her reaction could hardly be criticized.

She stumbled over a root and landed on her face. The flashlight flew out of her hand and landed in the dirt. The light clicked off. Isabella moaned and rubbed her arm where it had hit another root, and then realized what had happened. She started scrabbling madly through the dirt for her flashlight.

Behind her, a slim figure began to walk closer. Isabella didn't notice him; she was blind without the flashlight, and the figure was all but silent.

Suddenly, her fingers made contact with the cold metal of the flashlight. She breathed a sigh of relief as she picked it up and clicked the "on" button.

Nothing happened.

Her face fell. She clicked the button again, and then three times more in quick succession. It didn't turn on.

The slim figure grew closer.

She took no notice, madly trying to get the flashlight to turn on. When it finally did so, relief returned to her face. Then, barely a moment later, a feeling of dread began to overcome her. She gradually became cognizant of the figure standing behind her.

Ever so slowly, she turned her head over her shoulder. Her face, before a mask of relief, now slowly turned to terror.

"No..." she whispered. "Please, no..."

Her flashlight clicked off.

There was a scream.

And then there was silence.