He placed his hand on her waist to guide her as they walked. She blushed at his touch, the surge of blood in her cheeks temporarily warming her, complimenting the alcohol still in her system. Under the dull orb of the streetlights, they traversed the city streets for what seemed like a long time. The click-clack of her stiletto heels echoed off the facades of the squat, dark buildings that huddled along the empty, narrow street on which they now found themselves.

“How far are we going?”

“Not much further.” He flashed her a hint of a smile. “I haven’t been exactly up-front with you. I’m afraid we’re not going to my apartment.”

“Well, then where the hell are we going?”

The wind gusted and a ragged chill tore through her. She cinched her coat shut tightly at the neck, taking a few steps further before realizing he no longer pressed his hand against the small of her back. She turned to find he had stopped. He stood now with his hands thrust into his coat pockets, eying her quietly.

“So tell me this . . .” His voice was soft, scarcely above a whisper. “What frightens you?”

“What frightens me?” She giggled, not entirely sure why. She didn’t find this sudden change in plans or in his demeanor to be funny in the least.

“That’s right, I’m curious. What gets under your skin enough to make it crawl?” In the club she had remarked about his eyes being as blue as the sky; out here the sky was cold and impersonal and closing in on her as he took a step closer.

“What keeps you awake, makes you feel afraid to close your eyes for fear of what might be waiting for you in the dark? Make sure you answer correctly. Make sure you answer truthfully.”

She tried to force a laugh but it sounded thin and shrill. She quickly scanned her surroundings and noticed for the first time just how much the night suffocated everything in shadow on this desolate little side street. How could she have been so trusting to let him lead her here like this, without even paying attention to the route they had come? And why won’t he take his hands out of his pockets?

Bile surged, burning the back of her throat and bringing with it the taste of cranberry and vodka.

“Umm . . .”

“I need you to think about it very clearly – the things that frighten you. No matter what happens next I want you to hold these thoughts in your mind – it’s very important that you do this.”

Her breath frosted the air in front of her in ever-shortening puffs. She knew if she tried to run on these heels he would be upon her before she managed to get far. He took yet another step towards her.

“Wait! This isn’t funny—“

“No, you’re right. It really isn’t.”

His hands still buried in his pockets, he advanced on her with a grin that turned his face sharp, angular, full of teeth. Suddenly, thoughts about all the terrible things he intended to do to her in the coming moments filled her mind. Jangled her nerves. Cemented her in fear. And still he came, his blue eyes eager and full of malice . . .

So tell me, what frightens you?