He Is There

You can see him, just standing there. You can smell him, that putrid rotting flesh. The darkness does little to conceal him and only makes the sight more frightening. You want nothing more than to crawl into your bed and forget the haunting sight. You wonder why he chose to stand there, night after night. Nothing ever seems to change.
Every night you hear him creep closer. You hear his footsteps first in the distance and then outside your door. The acrid stench of long decayed flesh wafts in from underneath and threatens to choke you with every breath. You want to scream, but you hold it back out of fear of him hearing you, but you know it's pointless.
He knows you are there, and you know that he knows it. That's part of what's been driving you mad. He knows that you know as well and is content to let you wallow in your fear. You wonder what you did to deserve his terrifying presence. Was it that you murdered your mother?
Surely not, that bitch deserved to die. Was it the time you refused to help that dying woman? No, she was old and bound to die anyway. Could it have been that you turned your back on your daughter and did nothing while her attackers did as they pleased with her? Of course not, she was a little whore anyway.
No matter, even if you did nothing to deserve his presence, he was there regardless. Always there. You got a few moments of relief in the daylight, but the smell clung to your clothes and even in your very pores. You were never truly alone.
Even within the pure white walls of your only sanctuary, he was there. Just outside the door. You can see him, and you could smell him. The men in white coats tell you that it's all in your head, that the guilt of your crimes caused you to have a psychotic break. But you know they are lying, you're too smart to fall for it. You never regretted what you did, you know he was sent as a punishment for getting caught. That had to be it!
You can see him outside the door now. Just standing there like he does every night. But wait, this time is different. You can see the door knob is turning, and as the smell of putrefying skin and bone overwhelms you, he is there. Next to you, watching you, killing you.
Category:Beings
Category:Mental Illness