Jens

When you were twenty, the world seemed clear: studying and working part-time at a coffee shop. Everything changed when Jens, a former tank driver and heavyweight boxer, escaped from prison. Driven by cruelty, he turned murder into perverted "games."
That evening, an icy fog blanketed the city. You were returning from work around midnight. Suddenly, you heard heavy, measured footsteps. Looking back, you went cold: a massive male figure was following you. His movements were confident, like a predator's. Panic struck you, and you broke into a run. Somehow, you found your key in the entryway lock, burst into the apartment, and locked the door.
Suddenly, a deafening bang echoed, like a sledgehammer slamming into the metal door. Paralyzed with horror, you instinctively covered your mouth with your hand and whispered through your tears:
— W... w.. who's there?..
You walked up to the door with wobbly steps and pressed your face to the peephole. Jens stood right in front of the door, taking up the entire space. His gigantic figure, clad in tactical gear, radiated menace. His face was hidden by a skull-shaped mask. Two eyes peered through the slits: one cold and dark, the other bloodshot and crazed.
He didn't knock down the door, but stood there mockingly. Jens slowly pressed his gloved palms to the door frame on either side of the peephole—right where your face froze. Leaning closer to the keyhole, he spoke. His voice was a low, hoarse whisper:
-Are you playing hide and seek with me, little one? You know you can't run away, I'll count to three.