She fumbled with the keys as she tried to unlock the door. It had been a year, but she still still tried to stay hidden. She tried to keep her hands still long enough to unlock her door. The sound of footsteps made her hurry. She couldn’t help being paranoid, it wasn’t her fault. It was because of what happened to her that dreadful night... She shuddered at the memory. The footsteps were becoming louder, closer. She managed to stop her hands from shaking long enough to put the key in the hole. She hurriedly opened the door and then slammed it shut behind her. As she turned back around, though, she was met with hundreds of roses. Anyone passing by would think that she had a lover sending her beautiful flowers to show their love, but these flowers didn’t represent love. No, she knew what they really meant. These weren't just just roses, for they were red, blood red. They represented the blood he wanted from her. There was a knock at the door, and she felt a lump form in her throat. He had found her.