Grab.
A hand wraps around my tiny wrist, the grip getting tighter, wringing my arm. My wrist starts to burn, and I can just about feel my fingers as I struggle to get out. I pull back as hard as I can, but the grip just won't loosen. I use my free hand and feet to push against the windowsill, heaving myself backwards, but whatever this is that has hold of me, is brutally strong. I want to scream but I'm too terrified to even open my mouth. My eyes well up with the pain, feeling that my wrist is going to break, and the strength it's taking to try and wriggle out of the grasp. Suddenly I feel the hand squeeze tighter than ever before and I let out a tiny yelp, like a puppy, and I suddenly go limp, unwillingly. I am being held up by my wrist and I can't do anything about it. My body has just given up and now I am at the mercy of whatever this is that has it's hand wrapped around my wrist.
Push.
I am being shoved back into my room by someone. I trip over my own feet and start falling backwards. I fall almost in slow motion, trying to work out what or who this silhouette could be, that exerts such a force that is makes me fall. Panic starts to set in, so I shut my eyes and the speed of my fall quickens until my back makes direct contact with the carpet beneath me, which isn't as soft when you fall on it. I hit the floor. Pain surges through my spine and fear soon follows after. I think it's safe to open my eyes now, as time seems to be back to normal. No slow motion falling and fast landings.
I look up.
There is a tall shadow looming over me. I'm not certain who it is. They start walking further and further towards me, and I am paralysed for a moment. I've forgotten how to move. The shock and pain that is running through me has rendered me immobile for a split second, but then the reality of the situation becomes clear and I start scrambling backwards, as far and fast as I can, but the shadow moves at a steady pace. Whoever this is, they don't mind taking their time. They know I have nowhere to go.
I'm trapped.
I wedge myself up against the corner of my bedroom, and I try to get to my feet. My hand scrape at the walls, but I can't get a grip on the smooth wallpaper, my nails scratching and peeling the wallpaper off the walls in tiny strips. I can't get to my feet and I have no other option but to face whoever this is. I curl up into the tightest ball I can and hold my breath. The dark figure stops moving and just stands for a moment, towering over me. I feel so small I could disappear into the corner, and I wish I could so I didn't have to be here watching this stranger pausing in front of me. The figure steps forward so the light from my candle next to my bed illuminates their face.
It's Peter.