Abigail waited in the empty house, her eyes closed, listening to every creek of the settling wood. She really was lucky to have found him again, for a while she'd thought she'd never see the man again. Of course, it was now in his hands, whether or not she met him a third time or not. She thought he wouldn't be able to resist seeking her out now that she'd presented her challenge to him. Not that she could be absolutely sure, of course. Most people were unpredictable to her, except for children, and he was so much more so simply because of what he was. What drove him to kill? Along the same lines, what drove anyone to kill, and others not to? Why did different people react differently to stimuli? What did it feel like...to feel?

She never met a murderer before. Was Jeff's rage harsher than that of normal people, or did he lack control? Was there something extra in his brain, or something missing? And if so, what was it, exactly? Why did he do these things?

Why did he kill her parents?

She exhaled deeply at this thought. She...mourned them, for lack of a better word. She wasn't sad, or even angry. But, if it were a choice, if she had to choose between playing this game with Jeff or sitting with her parents, reading a book, she would have chosen the later. But she couldn't, anymore. She supposed she could move in with her neighbor, but no. It was the kids. She didn't want to be around them, their animalistic nature bore her to no end. Before, she could focus on the other people in the room. Now she'd have only the one woman. So, choosing between the old family friend, and Jeff? Again, she'd pick the latter. Which, she mused, she already had. She couldn't go there now, and risk leading the psychotic man to them.

She opened her eyes to gaze about her surroundings. The house was mostly empty, with only an old, moldy couch, and a table in the kitchen. She'd been staying there since she'd escaped what was likely to be her death. It was a disgusting place, compared to where she used to live. More than once she found rats scurrying along the floor, or roaches crawling on the walls. That meant it had to have been abandoned recently, as there would only be pests if there was food, which there wasn't anymore. In time, they too would leave.

As the minutes crept by, she distracted herself with picking bits of dirt from her shirt. She'd been forced to steal, a fact that her mother and father would have disliked immensely, but that didn't matter anymore, did it?

She stilled as a soft creak reached her ears. The house, or the sound of someone in it? The floorboards were so much louder there than at her old home, she wasn't quite sure...

Creak...

She pulled her lips back as she concluded that there was no way it was just the wood settling. Someone was there with her, most likely her new friend.

Friend? Now, that was a thought.

Abby looked left, at the door leading out of the house. Then right, to the one that led to the kitchen. Straight a head led to two bedrooms and a large bathroom. Jeff could have entered from any room, either through the sliding glass door or a window. Surely, the safest thing for her to do would be to go left, and leave. But then the game wouldn't be a challenge, would it?

She decided to go forward, to the bedrooms, seeing as there was less room to move around than in the kitchen. She reached the hallway without any trouble, and proceeded to press her back to one wall. A moment passed, in which she looked both ways to make sure he wasn't there. It was dark, and her were well adjusted, something that should give her an advantage of sorts. There were street lamps outside, and she didn't think he could get inside without looking at them.

Slowly, she inched her way toward the closest room, the bathroom. When she got there she quietly opened it, wide enough so that it pressed against the wall, proving the man wasn't hiding behind it. No one was there, so she continued to the first bedroom. Again, nothing. The hard part was going to be the last room, as it contained a large closet, big enough for someone to fit in. She made it to the bigger bedroom without being gutted, which she mentally noted as a personal victory. She approached the closet, ready to flee should Jeff be behind it. She opened it slowly, quietly, and found it completely empty.

Okay, maybe he really was in the kitchen. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, turning back, and made her way back through the hallway. No one there that she could see, so he must be through that last door.

Again, she found herself proven wrong. He wasn't in the kitchen either. She stood there for a moment, confused. He had to be there, she heard him.

She felt a cold sharpness at her throat, and then a warm softness at her shoulder, "Looking for me?" Jeff asked, his words brushing her the top of her head. How did he manage to get behind her?

She suddenly shifted her weight so she was leaning back into him, and quickly reached her hand up, shoving her fingers between her throat and the blade. Pain registered as the knife dug into her skin, liquid heat oozing out. She noted that it was...funny? Ironic? Strange? Ah, an unexpected coincidence...that the wound was in the same place as his, from when he'd cut himself in the bar.

She had to get away from him, get away before he could win. She lifted her foot and stomped hard on his, only getting a soft grunt in return. When that didn't work she reached back with her free hand, slipping it under his shirt to burry her nails into his stomach. His other hand grabbed onto her wrist, twisting it harshly. With no other choice, she pushed on the weapon, making it slice deeper into her fingers. This was going to hurt, her body was liable to react strongly...She took a quick breath, held it, turned her head to one side and dropped to the ground. Part of the knife that wasn't grinding against bone tore skin from her face, from her chin, to her temple. There was a sickening crack as her wrist was either broken or dislocated in his vice like grip. An involuntary yelp came from her throat, as she twisted around to face him and pulled, pain stabbing up her arm as she yanked herself free.

He stood there, laughing darkly as she scrambled backwards toward the sliding glass door. "Aren't you having fun yet?" he asked, his unblinking eyes locked on hers, "This was all your idea, remember?"

She bared her teeth at him, and let out an erratic sound that was meant to copy his cackle. She didn't do it right, she knew, but it was the best she could offer. "Did I say I had any regrets?" she shakily asked. Her back hit the cool glass of the sliding glass door, her left hand so numb and prickly that she couldn't use it to unlatch the lock. Already he was coming closer, his knife dripping with her blood, she didn't have time to turn and unlock it with her good hand. Again, she was left with one option, somehow get past him and escape out one of the other exits. She began to sidestep, trying to circle around him.

"Oh, no you don't." he said, sidestepping as well, keeping himself between her and freedom. "You aren't going anywhere."

"Aren't I?" she asked, going the other way, again being cut off. He was closer now, just out of reach. An idea occurred to her, and she lowered her arms, which had been crossed over her chest. She had to time this just right...

He laughed, taking this as her giving up, "Aw, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you'd last a little longer. But now, I think it's time for you to go to sleep..." at this he closed the distance between them, his knife plunging toward her just as she brought her knee up. Both of them hit their mark, his blade plunged into ribs as her knee shoved in between his legs. A startled sound came from the man, his grip on the weapon loosening just enough that she could pull it away from him.

As quickly as she could she darted toward the door, turning back just long enough to say, "Seems I need to call a time out, got an appointment with a doctor. If you can't find me, check back here. I'll be back as soon as I can. Besides, you'll want your knife back, right?" she gestured toward the weapon, still inside her. An angry growl answered her as he looked up at her, doubled over but not on the floor as she would have expected of most men. She ran out of the house, not giving him enough time to recover properly.