At that moment, he could be a hero or a survivor. He decided to be a booth, and pulled Emily by the hand, her light guiding their way to the kitchen where hopefully, the matches lay. He reached there just in time to see the little moonlight patch vanishing, and to his horror, Emily's light started flickering.
"Sam!" she yelled just as he left her hand and dived for the matchsticks. And in one fluid motion, he had a lit match in his hand, and he dashed to Emily. He was just in time to see a bone-white hand withdrawing to the shadows, from where it was reaching for Emily's head. In a weird moment, he noticed that the hand wasn't all bone like he thought, but actually just decayed flesh.
"Emily." He said urgently, before putting the lit match in his mouth to keep the flame going before lighting a second one. He needed Emily to hold the match so he could find something to light on fire. She didn't respond, so after a moment's thought, he took off his shirt and tried to light it on fire. Which proved to be bloody difficult because he had sweated through the shirt and it was all wet.
He didn't even notice the depleting match supply till he felt that there were only two matches left.
"tik tok, tik tok." Emily's evil smile accompanied her second personality's outrageous words. She still looked clammy. But Sam had had enough.
"What are you playing, what is he playing?" He said, shouting at her face.
"He is playing the game of death of course." Said Emily, as if explaining something to a child.
"He is Death after all, what else would he play?" She asked, innocently, as Sam lit the second last match. He took the last one out and lit the box on fire. That would give them a few moments.
"And what are the rules?" Asked Sam urgently, looking around frantically for something to burn. The wooden cabinets won't catch fire that easily. He needed something else. The napkins maybe, but they were far, way into the darkness.