Dinner could only be described in one word—awkward. Tim and Ash dominated conversation whilst I sat quietly, mulling over my own thoughts. Ben joined in with their man talk now and then. He kept giving me sympathetic looks from across the table, smiling at my obvious discomfort.

"How are you feeling, Kyra? Tired?" Tim asked.

"Yes. I'm still a little tired."

"I hope you like the room."

I nodded.

"The beds are the best money can buy. Should give you an excellent night's sleep."

I nodded again, faking a smile.

A sharp kick in the ankle followed by a glare from Ash only worsened my mood. I decided to ask Tim a question. "Where's all the Christmas decorations, Tim? Mum loved Christmas. She was like a kid in a candy shop when it came to Christmas."

Ben sucked in a sharp breath. Ash scowled at me, his eyes burning with hatred.

Tim faltered for a second before he sniffed and then wiped at his eyes, which had no tears anyway. "I just can't bear to celebrate Christmas now. I had to take them all down."

Ash patted Tim on the back and said, "It's ok, we understand." He stared at me, narrowing his eyes, and then mouthed, "Stop it."

I smirked back at him and then announced it was my bedtime.

Tim turned behind him and lifted up a crystal decanter. "Nightcap? Before I take you all back?"

"Just what I was thinking," said Ash.

I grumbled under my breath but involved myself in the ritual just to stop Ash from moaning at me. A couple of minutes later, the sharp tang of aged whiskey flooded my mouth. An awkward few-minute car ride after that and I was back in the safety of my room.

I peeled my clothes from my body, collapsing into the soft duvet before falling into a deep sleep. Sometime during the night, I awoke, the fire dwindling and barely giving off any light or heat.

Feeling a slight chill in the air, I climbed out of bed, still naked, and padded over to the fireplace, picking at the logs next to it and throwing them on the fire. I grabbed the poker and moved the burning embers around to get some air flow. After a minute or so, they reignited, taking hold of one of the fresh logs.

"Yes," I said to myself. "All I need is one of you to start burning."

I pulled one of the chairs from the window to the fire and sat in front of it, waiting for the heat to hit me.

"You should be careful of the spitting ash."

I screamed and jumped up, grabbing at the duvet to cover myself. Turning to face the front door, Tim emerged from the shadows, a sickly smile on his face.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I yelled. "Get out!"

He grinned at me and started walking towards me, step by step. With each step he took forwards, I took one back, eyeing up my escape into the bathroom.

"I figured it was about time we finished what we started that night."

I shook my head. "'We' didn't start anything. And I have no desire to finish whatever you think was started."

"Oh come on," he said, now halfway around the bottom of the bed. "I know you want me. I've seen it in your eyes from the first day we met."

"You're crazy. The only thing I want concerning you is you dead."

"You don't mean that."

"Yes," I said, nodding. "Yes, I do."

I glanced behind me quickly to see I only needed another two or three steps to be in the safety of the bathroom.

"You can run, Kyra, but you can't hide. Not forever."

I dropped the quilt and bolted into the bathroom, adrenaline surging through me to the point my shaky fingers almost didn't twist the lock in place. I heard a satisfying clunk just as he hurled himself against the door, making it bounce from his weight.

"Unlock the door, Kyra," he said, his voice deep and commanding.

"Fuck off, Tim," I shouted, my voice shaking.

I doubled myself over, really feeling the cold now I was sealed off in the bathroom. The cool marble floor in the middle of December insulated nothing at all. Grabbing a fluffy towel from the cupboard under the sink, I wrapped it around me and then sat on the side of the bath, my feet resting on the soft floor mat next to the bath.

"Kyra, unlock this door. Now."

"No. Nothing is going to make me unlock that door. Not even God himself. Unless he's coming to send you to hell."

A sadistic chuckle sounded from the other side of the door. "I expected you would be like that." He paused for a moment before he then said, "You're forgetting that I built these cabins with my own hands, piece by piece."

My heart stopped and my breath caught in my throat. My veins filled with dread. What was he insinuating?

The silence on the other side of the door worried me, but not enough to unlock it and peer out. I waited. A minute passed, then two, then three. Had he gone? Just as I started calming down and regaining some sense of reality, a scratching noise came from his side of the door.

I frowned, focusing as hard as I could on what I could hear. After a few seconds, I stood up and crept closer to the door. My eyes widened in horror as I heard the scratch of metal on metal and the rhythmic sound of a screwdriver undoing a screw. He was taking the hinges off the door.

Panic laced adrenaline flooded me in an instant. He'd be in here in less than two minutes. I glanced around me, desperate for a way out. The huge six foot long by four-foot-high frosted window was my only option but I needed something to break it.

As I looked around the room, nothing obvious stuck out. I ran to the cupboard under the sink and opened the doors, desperate to find anything with a bit of weight that would have enough momentum from a throw to break that window.

My eyes settled on a handheld metal mirror. The circular mirror couldn't have been much bigger than a side plate, but the metal pole that supported it was a good eight inches long and fairly thick. It wasn't big, but if I threw it hard enough and at the right spot, the glass would break. It had to. It was my only shot.

"Don't make me break the window," I yelled, my voice trembling. "Because if I do, I'll scream bloody murder and Ash and Ben will be over here quicker than a bullet leaves a gun."

The sound instantly stopped. Had I hit on something he hadn't expected?

"There's nothing in there that will break the window. Nice try." The sound of the screwdriver resumed.

"Wanna try me? How much are you willing to bet on that?"

The screwdriver stopped. "I checked that bathroom myself. I took anything out that could break that window."

I wanted to cry. The desperation filling me sent me into overdrive, panic completely taking hold. He had planned this. He had a plan B for plan A, and I bet he had a plan C for plan B. Just how sadistic was this man? In that instant, I knew he'd done this before. This wasn't his first rodeo, in any sense of the term.

In fear of my dignity, as well as my life, I screamed back, "But did you check the cupboard under the sink?"

Silence.

Seconds later, a primal roar sounded from the other side of the room. I heard something being smashed and then the door slamming shut.

I collapsed into a heap on the bathroom floor and cried my eyes out.