When even the TV screen flipped off, my apartment cast into darkness, save for the moonlight filtering into the window through my cracked blinds. Squirming under the invisible ropes, I gave a strangled choke when a hand shot over the edge of my couch and gripped my ankle. Using my legs as an anchor, the man pulled himself over, moving as a liquid shadow.
His fingers were long claws, raking across my jeans, tearing the fabric and skin underneath. Blood trickled down the side of my legs to meet the couch. He used my hips for leverage to yank the rest of his body onto mine, the claws latching into my side, leaving deep lacerations and drawing a cry of pain from me.