Hannah took the opportunity to feel her way around the counter-top while Emery - Liam? - spoke, even though she never took her eyes off of him. People like this were like tigers, and you could never turn your back on them. Running was a risk because she wouldn't be able to see him, and if he was fast he could catch up to her before she even left the apartment. The knife could be in her back without even a chance to turn and defend herself.
If she could somehow get into the living room, she thought, one of the lamps might prove to be a worthy enough weapon.
Instinct caused her to take another step back when he moved forward, sliding around the counter and out of the kitchen. Reasoning with him wouldn't work, because Hannah knew his type - or, at least, she thought she did. He didn't seem to be the irrational kind of crazy, like the ones who ended up in insane asylums kicking and screaming. He struck her as the worst kind, like Sarah, crazy enough that they actually became intelligent in their madness.
She flinched at the feel of the blade against her cheek, cursing herself for not moving faster and letting him get so close. The fear was there, ice-cold and growing by the minute, but she still refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing it. Screams, begging, tears - it was what Sarah had lived for, but she wasn't going to give them up so easily this time.
"You're Liam." Hannah met his gaze with a hint of defiance, even though she was trembling underneath. "Where's Emery?" If she could move quickly enough, grab a lamp or a book or something, she might be able to catch him off guard enough to get a head start.