No sooner had the last boy shouted Lilika’s name, when all of a sudden, a tremendous, terrifying sound exploded around them. Shards of glass flew in every direction, making them cower instinctively and cover their heads, several of them cursing as bits of glass cut into their skin. 

“What the hell was that??” somebody cried out, stumbling toward the doorway.

“Was that a fucking earthquake??” 

“Goddamn it, how do we get out of here??”

The boys had already started sprinting out of the room, tripping over themselves and the furniture hidden in the darkness. Jace moved to follow them but gave a sharp cry as something hot burned against his wrist, pulling him backward. He gave his arm a hard tug and realized that there was a something [i]attached[/i] to it. He couldn’t see what is was in the dim light and he was too terrified out of his mind to really care, [i]he just wanted to get out of this house[/i]. 

Jace dragged himself forward, his right arm flung backward, pulling whatever weight that was behind him forward. He reached the doorway with difficulty and realized with a horrible sinking feeling that his friends had already vanished. He thought he heard a door slam somewhere and he gave a shudder. He was totally alone now.

Or so he thought. 

Jace winced as he felt the sting of his sliced palm again. He looked down at his hand, gingerly opening it to take a peek at the injury. This time, the moonlight from a window across the hall shown on him, and he was able to see what had been wrapped around his wrist. It was a metal cuff. And attached to the cuff was a long, heavy chain. He could feel the weight of it as he lifted his arm. After a second of staring at it with a stunned expression, Jace began pulling on it with his other hand, trying to take it off. It was no use, the cuff was too tight to slip over his hand. He growled with frustration and pain as he tugged on it harder, only succeeding in pressing the metal painfully into his skin. At last he gave up and began looking frantically for something to pry it off.

At that moment, he turned around and saw her. The shock of it made him start, and he fell backward onto the floor. He was too stunned to say anything at first. His mouth just sort of hung open. He began gesticulating as if he were trying to get something out. 

“H-Hey!! W-Who are you, w-what’re you doing here?” he demanded finally, his fear making him sound aggressive. “And why the hell did you put this on me??” He scrambled to his feet and raised his arms defensively. But as he finally got a good look at the girl, his arms lowered a little and he blinked. He was immediately struck by how familiar she looked. “Who are you..” he repeated suspiciously. And suddenly he knew who she was, or at least, who she [i]looked[/i] like. 

She was the spitting image of the girl in the photo.