He was so close, and normally it would mean an opening for attack, but she was paralyzed with terror. The room had shrunk until it only contained the two of them and the small space between them. She grimaced when he picked up her knife, hating that he had his hands on another one even if this one held no particular value other than the fact that it was a wonderfully sharp knife. She inhaled sharply as he murmured words that proved he knew just how terrified she really was. I want to run. I want to hide. He can't know. He can't know. It became a mantra, and she chanted it over and over again, pressing the knife more deeply into her skin so that red blood trickled down her arm. The room came back to her for a moment, but then it drifted out of focus. He was so close, and she wanted to strike at him but she felt herself withdrawing further against the wall, knees to her chest as she tried to make herself take up less space. She wanted to reply to his taunts, but she couldn't speak.