They're Coming For Me

I am sitting on my bed, shaking with fear. They’re coming tonight, I know they are. They’re coming for me. I can’t stop them, there are too many of them.
All I can do is stay here and pray they don’t find me.
I could run, but that would only make them try harder to find me. They would track me down wherever I go.
If I run, it will only make things worse.
What was that? A noise from downstairs. The front door slowly opening. Footsteps, creeping quietly across the floorboards.
This is it. They've come. What can I do? I could try to defend myself, though I don’t think I stand a chance.
I reach out in the dark and my fingers curl around the object next to me. Maybe this will stop them. As quietly as I can, I stand up. I creep down the stairs. The front door is wide open, letting in the cool night air.
I can see a shadow moving inside the living room. Just one shadow. Maybe this will be easier than I thought.
I step inside the room. There is a figure the shape and size of a man standing over the dead bodies of my parents. He turns around when he hears me enter and stares at me without saying a word.
Immediately, I lift the gun in my hand and pull the trigger. The loud noise seems to fill the whole house.
The man stands there for a moment before dropping to the floor, dead.
I don’t think he was one of them. I think he just came to see what the loud noises earlier were.
If he had been one of them, he probably would have been wearing a uniform and told me I was under arrest.
Category:Mental Illness
Category:Micropasta