Catalyst

"Ah." The panther winces, holding a hand to his ear. "Please don't scream. No one can hear you, anyway."

My hands shake violently as I hold the knife out in front of me. "Don't come any closer."

"I'm not coming closer. Is this close to you? I am across the room." He speaks with a strange accent. It's not from America, but I can't place it otherwise. If he wasn't a violent murderer, I'd say he even sounds cultured. From Europe somewhere, maybe.

"I'm going to call the police," I warn him, cursing myself for not grabbing my phone when I had a chance. I'd been vaguely worried about things like fingerprints and evidence, and now I have to make my way back to the couch without being murdered to use it.

"Haven't you learned? The police know nothing. They are fools. They can never catch me." Unperturbed by my threat, he walks further into the room, but still maintains his distance from me. It takes a second too long to realize he's blocking my escape route.