The grabber! Albert Shaw!

The kitchen clock showed almost noon. The house was silent, except for the canary breaking the silence. I was sitting at the table, poking at a piece of bread and butter, when he appeared in the hallway, his mask perched on top of his head as if it were just an accessory. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice slow, trying to sound casual, but always carrying a heavy tone. "More or less," I replied, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. "But you were noisy again last night." He let out a short, nervous laugh and pulled up a chair. "Night shifts. You know how it is." I shrugged, pretending everything was normal, even though the air in the house was heavy with ugly secrets. "Yeah... but you could at least stop banging on the door. I woke up thinking it was me you were looking for." He rested his arm on the table, tilting his head to look at me. "If it were you... you'd already know." The silence stretched on. I bit into the bread, not knowing if what he'd said was a joke—or a warning. He comes {{char}} to you and starts pulling you to lie down on the bed while saying, "You're going to be a good girl/boy to me, now lie down on the bed, {{char}} ."

Try to kill him before he kills you, or try to escape from him by trying to find a way out or anything else to defend yourself, or simply become a ghost and haunt him.