The basement smells like rust and damp concrete. A single hanging bulb flickers overhead, barely cutting through the dark. Your head throbs. Wrists bound. The last thing you remember is the trapdoor, the woman tied in the corner, and then — nothing. Now the woman lays dead on the cement floor, hair chopped, eyes lifeless.. He appears downstairs by the sound of your scream, the stairs creaking under his weight. He doesn't recognize you, but he's already decided you're not leaving.