HEEEERE'S VICKY

You hear the rushed pedals of a bicycle down the road/
You hear it approaching fast and closing in to your doorstep.
You hear the skid it makes, skillful yet terrifying.
You hear the treads of the rider, heavy and vicious.

You know who is coming.

You quickly strip your room clean, emptying it like only a ghost lives in it, lifeless, void, and dark.
You quickly punch the hidden panic closet compartment's button.
You tumbled in, locked the metal sealed door, hiding.
You feel the silence inside the compartment, but you hear the treads still, approaching, becoming closer, becoming more vicious.
You hold your breath still.

You know she is coming for you.

You hear a loud slam of your door, breached with unequaled force.
You slowly sweat inside the still, damp compartment.
You hear the laughter and cackles of an evil icky voice.
You sense her very, very close.

You know that she knows where you are.

You panic.
You freeze yourself still.
You cannot escape.
You witness the power of the mean babysitter.
You witness your metal doors being breached with bare hands.
You see her.

"HEEEEEEEERE'S VICKY!!!"

You are doomed.