Figuring that you have a greater chance to escape than to hide - after all, if you leave the bedroom, you have the whole of the rest of the house to try and lose the apparition in. Ducking a thrown book, you make for the door...

...only to slump against it before you can more than half-open it, a lucky hit from a silvered candlestick striking the side of your head. Death is instantaneous, and the last thing to go through your mind before darkness takes you is a fragment of your skull.

pleasant, hmm? Maybe when the wheel of life brings you around for another go at life, you'll fare a bit better.