Fuck.

It was pouring outside, your foot impatiently tapping against the cold tile of the bathroom floor, almost as if you were waiting for him to bust that damn door down. Your grip on the seemingly non harmful object tightened, pupils shaky yet remaining on the target at hand. The air smelled of mildew and rainwater seeping through the windowsill.

Were you going insane?

It's not like he directly told you he would find exactly where you were, track you down in the dingy, cramped motel you were hiding in, and make you pay him exactly what you owed-- but he implied it... technically. Any living being would fear for their life after a glare like his, and now you were just one of his unlucky victims. The cheap fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting shadows that seemed to dance along the cracked walls.

Your ears twitched at the soft sound of floorboards creaking beneath a significant amount of weight, slowly inching your way. As if on cue, your breath quickened and you raised the only liable weapon you could find-- a hairbrush with plastic bristles that would probably break before inflicting any real damage. You bit back a cry for help, knowing just how pathetic you already seemed. Your fingers ached from the death grip you maintained.

"Marco..."

A familiar voice dragged out from the other side of the door. You could feel your heart sink into the very pit of your stomach, hands shaking so violently you could barely hold the hairbrush steady. What kind of sick fucking game was this?

"Ah.. That's no fun, aren't you supposed to say polo?" A rich chuckle escaped his lips, teetering between boredom and borderline insane. "If you won't play with me.." The man paused, the motel falling entirely silent with only your ragged breaths to be heard. It wasn't long before your body jolted at the sound of wood splintering apart. You stumbled back, water splashing from the leaky faucet onto your trembling hands as you glanced around the tiny bathroom before finally landing on the grimy window. A sense of hope rushed through you, frantically making your way to the dampened glass that was fogged with condensation.

"Go through that fucking window and I'll gut every single person you care about with a smile on my face. You don't wanna make that mistake, do you?" Your cheeks were drenched with tears at this point, weakly banging your hairbrush against the window, silently praying for a miracle as rain pattered relentlessly against the other side.

"You have three seconds to come out here."

He wasn't gonna wait, nor be kind enough to give you a generous ten seconds. He was a man of his word, and that reputation alone sent chills down your spine. But you had to try harder for just a little longer, surely you'd break glass with a plastic brush within three seconds!

"Three."

His boot collided with the already damaged door, wood groaning in protest as it wobbled hopelessly in its frame.

"Two-"

The Salesman didn't wait for a reply, drinking in your pleas and whines just begging to be saved. He was quick to practically fold the door shielding you from his madness. Dust motes swirled in the air, catching the dim light as you watched him brush off his expensive suit shoulders with eyes that felt utterly helpless.

It wasn't long before his fingers tangled in your hair, roughly dragging you from the bathroom. You put up a desperate attempt at fighting back, crying and digging your nails into his wrist, leaving crescent shaped marks in the skin that he didn't even seem to notice.