The footsteps slow down when they reach the top of the stairs, but I still hear them, creaking across the landing, towards my door.

I curse myself, wondering why in hell I unlocked my bedroom door just minutes ago. It was an act of stupidity; I was trying to convince myself that nothing was wrong, although my instincts has screamed otherwise.

The race of my thoughts stopped abruptly as I detected the footsteps coming towards my door.

My breath stopped when I heard it pause in front of my door.

My heart stopped when I heard the door creak open.

I thought I would never dare look, so I lay perfectly still, with my head under my duvet.

But I couldn't keep looking away when I heard the sound.

Snip.

I shudder and my eyes snap open. I clench my fists, grabbing onto my bedding. I close my eyes again and beg to wake up, as cold sweat starts to pour down my back.

Snip.

I relent and raise my head above the blanket, to see what was making that sound, while the heartbeat in my throat made me feel sick.

Standing in my wide-open doorway, I can see someone. A small girl. Through my squeezed eyelids I can only tell she looked sickly and dead, with thin blonde hair and a floating, torn dress.

The girl is looking down, and I dare open my eyes just a little more. And that is when she lifts her head and makes eye contact with me. She smiled widely, the sides of her mouth seeming to crack open.

And in an instant she springs onto my bed. That face-bending smile is still on her face, and she hasn't broken eye contact with me.

And I then realize what she is holding.

A pair of scissors. Large, rusty, silver ones.

I close my eyes yet again, almost too scared to believe what is happening. And then I hear it again. Right next to my ear.

Snip.

I am so terrified that I think I would explode if any more emotion filled me. I lie here trying to hold in my audible gasps, and try to keep my eyes shut as if that can make whoever she is go away.

Snip.

Snip.

Snip.

The sound of the scissors is being heard all around my head, once I can even feel the air from the scissors closing.

And then she speaks. One sentance.

"You know they're mine, right?

Her words seem to echo around me, and I can't understand why I haven't fainted of fright yet.

But this is not the worst: she begins to trail the point of the scissors along my face, and stroke me with it's flat. She removes the scissors; when she lays them back onto me the pair is wet, and I am sure she has licked them.

She is whispering inaudibly to herself, continuing to touch me with the scissors. It takes all my willpower not to scream or move.

For what seems like hours, no, days, I lie there with my eyes glued shut, desperately hoping against hope that she will disappear.

But I can't go on like this, and finally I tentatively let my eyes open for a fraction.

She is still there, but she now has her back towards me. As if she is waiting. And she is loosely holding the scissors.

If I can take them from her... I will be in far less danger, maybe I could even defend myself...

I grab them.

And I am not quick enough.

As soon as my fingers feel the cold metal, she is already facing me again, with a rage in her unholy eyes.

"MINE!"

She says this word in a horrible, shrieking voice. Her hand pins me down with a horrible strength.

My eyes snap wide open as she raises the scissors, opens them, lowers them onto my face, and agonisingly slowly closes them.

Blood spills onto my bedding as I scream.