My moment of hesitation is all the bastard needs. He grabs my knife hand, which had only a moment ago been speeding towards his chest, in midair, and disarms me.

"Hi," he says, panting a bit as he shakes his hair out of his face.

"Bitch. Give me the knife."

He smiles. "That seems like it would be a very, very poor life choice. Just chill, okay? I'm not going to hurt you, I promise."

"Oh, of course, because you've proved yourself to be so very trustworthy."

"Jamie, please. Just let me say what I need to say."

I stare at him for a second, then nod.

He releases my wrist, and I retreat to the other side of the room, hiding my smile.

Stupid asshat.

"So, I need you to come with me," he saus plainly, and I burst out laughing.

"What?" He sounds wounded.

"Sorry, it's just- you're trying to convince me you're not a pedophilic stalker and the best you can do is 'I need you to come with me?' Sorry. I gave you a chance." I lunge.

"Zut!" he yells as he intercepts me before I can grab his knees, and pulls me into a headlock.

In retaliation for his French vulgarity, I swear loudly. Viciously. In German, as I thrash wildly, trying to loosen his grip.

"Jesus Christ, calm down," he snaps. "I know this is very, very sketchy, and vaguely rape-y, but it's going to be fine. Just let me explain."

I try to bite his hand.

He sighs, and I feel a prick on the side of my neck. I let out a stream of obscenities as Oliver hisses, "SorrysorrysorrysorryI'mactuallyareallyniceguysorryohgodsosorry." 

My panic reaches a screaming crescendo as the darkness I've been fleeing my whole life finally catches up with me, licking the edges of the room before swallowing me completely.