3

 First of all, I have to stop panicking. I need to think. I have nothing in the house to defend myself with, no sharp objects. I know that much. Maybe now it's time to consider what I do have. There was always a baseball bat under the bed, but bending down, Laura knew immediately it definitely wasn't there. She wasn't disappointed. It wasn't there. Nor were the scissors she usually kept in the bathroom. Someone had done a really good job. They hadn't missed anything. She stepped into the shower, reaching for the bottle of hairspray—it might come in handy. Pulling back the curtain, she heard an ominous hiss... the beast had to be close, very close. It's looking for me, the woman thought, it's looking for me, and I'm looking for it. Will the first one to find it win? Who has the most strength? The snake can hide practically anywhere; it could even be in the bathroom now. It could pounce on me at any moment. And then I have no chance of escape. Nevertheless, Laura pulled the curtain all the way back, holding her breath. She was alone—at least on the surface. The beast, if it was there, hadn't yet made its presence known, as if determined not to reveal itself. She slipped out of the bathroom, armed with a container of nail polish, the only useful thing she'd managed to find so far. She went into the kitchen, carefully closing the bedroom door behind her. At least she wouldn't get in there. But was she? She'd gotten out somehow... Laura dropped to her knees and began examining the wall, very carefully and very slowly. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was actually only a few minutes, she found what she was looking for. A hole, or rather, a tiny opening. A small hole, disguised and almost imperceptible, yet large enough for a snake to slither through. Terrified by her discovery, the woman decided to check the other walls in the same way. The search yielded the same result: every wall had a hole bored into it, large enough for the beast to slip through with a little effort. So, nowhere was safe. She knew that even climbing onto the table or the cabinets wouldn't save her; after all, it was a slithering reptile. She stood up, still clutching the nail polish in her hands. She remembered the beast's red, blazing eyes, knowing that spraying them with nail polish would require considerable effort and a significant dose of courage—something Laura, unfortunately, lacked in abundance. Until now, thanks to her background and beauty, she had navigated life easily and effortlessly. She wasn't particularly athletic, either, and tired quite easily. She did have a wonderful figure, but it was more due to her incredible metabolism than any strenuous exercise, which she always considered with great reluctance. Now she could use some skill, she thought wryly. She entered the kitchen and froze. A snake swayed in the center... as if it knew where she would come, as if it were waiting for her. He stuck out his large tongue and hissed, no, not hissed, rather sang, as if a swan song for her, for Laura.I've got you, you're mine, you won't escape me this time, he seemed to say. Laura froze, trying not to move. "Don't even move a muscle," she mentally scolded herself. She stood motionless, her whole body trembling. Unbeknownst to her, she still clutched the bottle of nail polish. Suddenly, the beast swayed and, in one swift movement, crept close, so close that it almost touched the woman's bare feet. "I'm done for, I'm dead," Laura thought. Suddenly, she realized she still had the nail polish. "Well, better than nothing," she muttered, pointing it at the hose and pressing down on the bottle with all her might. A strong jet of nail polish gushed from the opening, and the beast hissed in pain. It spun and vanished. She was safe. At least for a moment. But she had also lost her last weapon. What now, what now?" frantic thoughts raced through the woman's mind. What else can I use? Nothing, maybe salt? Pepper? It's worth a try.

She still didn't know where the beast was, but it was only a matter of moments before it returned. For now, she decided to stay in the kitchen; she felt relatively safe there. "If one could feel safe in such conditions," she muttered.

The man on the other side of the camera rubbed his hands with satisfaction as he watched his beloved protégé corner Laura in the kitchen. Like a snake, he was certain they had her this time. He jumped at the sight of what that bitch had done to his child. If he had had any doubts before, if there were remnants of conscience lurking somewhere deep within (do you even know what conscience is? Have you ever known? whispered a dark voice in his subconscious), they were gone forever. If there had been any compassion (it was probably similar to conscience, at least in his case)—there was no trace of it now. If there was even a chance he'd wanted to call off the snake, try to save Laura, become a hero, that chance vanished like smoke the moment that whore dared to harm his child, his love. He saw the suffering reptile creep into the bedroom and then into the bathroom, where, driven by instinct, it slithered toward the water. "Oh yes, oh yes, my little one," the man murmured, "exactly. The water will help you. Rest a moment, and then go back and kill that bitch. But remember, slowly, slowly, so that she suffers like never before.