I burst through my apartment door into the corridor outside, with his laughter following closely behind me. All I could think about was finding someone – anyone – to help me, but there was no one in sight. I screamed and I shouted, and I banged my fists hard against every door I passed, but there was no answer.

Only the staircase greeted me, and I almost fell down it in my panic. I didn't even think to look behind me, to check if he was actually following me. Somehow I just knew that if I stopped, even for a moment, he'd be there, and he'd kill me.

As I reached the ground floor, my confused mind had managed to come up with a plan, of sorts – I needed help, and I needed it quickly. Anton lived just a couple of blocks down the road. Thinking back, I don't know what I thought he could do for me, but I needed someone.

I passed through the door at the bottom of the stairs and – despite myself – I had to stop. Mrs Lawson – my landlady – was sat in a chair, right in front of me. Her tiny frame sat limp against the wall, her faded green cardigan stained with red – her throat had been cut. It was the first time I'd seen a dead body up close – I used to be a cop, sure, but I mostly just handled routine stuff – domestics, assaults. Her empty eyes just stared at me… accusing me. If it wasn't for you…

A car horn from outside shook me out of my shocked trance – I needed to keep running, to keep ahead of that… thing that was chasing me. So I headed out into the street. My heart was already pounding hard in my chest… or maybe it was my feet that I heard, hitting the pavement. Either way, I wished then that I'd spent more of my time keeping in shape.

But Anton's house was almost in sight, and it occurred to me that maybe… just maybe… I had managed to escape from that crazed lunatic. I rounded a corner and entered the street that Anton lived in – a typical suburban village; big houses, big yards… nice cars. I slowed to a quick walk – not because I wasn't terrified anymore, but because I was worried that if I didn't slow down I'd have a heart attack.

As I looked over the big, new houses I wondered again why Anton would ever have wanted to risk his life doing the whole vigilante thing. His garden was bigger than my apartment, for god's sake. Did he really want to help people, or was he just bored with living in comfort? Was his life just too safe for his liking?

Of course, I was close to condemning him, but I was no better. The only reason I joined in his insanity was because I wanted to feel like I meant something. I was tired of being that fat guy in room 126… and I wanted people to notice me.

By the time I'd reached Anton's front door I had slowed right down to a casual walk. I'd convinced myself that there was no one chasing me, and that I was safe. I even hesitated before I knocked – what would I say to him when he answered? Hi, I thought there was someone chasing me but now I don't? I'd sound like an idiot.

That was when I noticed that the door was already open. It looked as though someone had forced it – the hinges were snapped, and bit of the door were splintered off. I'd pushed it open and walked in before I had time to think it through – I went there to get away from trouble, didn't I? But despite myself, I just didn't like the idea of someone I knew being hurt.

Anton's body was lying in wait for me. He'd been cut – badly. I covered my mouth in shock, and felt queasy at what I was seeing – the second dead body I had seen that night. A streak of blood led away from him and into his living room – it looked as though someone had dragged him from there. In a daze, I followed the blood.

He was waiting for me, with the same sickening smile on his face.

"Hiii", he said, and then everything went dark.