When it hits, you don't run and you don't fight. You go completely still and hope it passes.
Worst case happens and the world goes quiet. You don't bolt and you don't swing — you lock. Your face stays neutral, your stomach drops to the floor, and some part of you just waits for the threat to lose interest and leave. It looks like composure from the outside, which is its own trap, because no one knows to help the person who's perfectly still. The freeze isn't weakness; it's your oldest reflex doing exactly what it was built for. But modern fear rarely walks away on its own, and the thing about staying frozen is that the moment you needed to act in often passes while you're holding your breath.
Get your read — free on iPhoneyour fear doesn't make you run — it makes you freeze and look weirdly calm, which means nobody ever knows to come save the person who's perfectly still.