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It Happened Again Today

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It happened again today. It always happens on days like today; when I let my guard down, when I am distracted by the little things that won’t matter by the end of the week or even tomorrow. But these things get in the way and make me feel like I can live normally. But then it will happen again like it always does. It never fails, every time I feel like I can be just like everyone else ‘he’ reminds me. Reminds me that I will never be the same. Ever since that day at the tattered church when we found each other. I thought it was over when I left, when I got home to what I thought was my safe place.

There is no place that is safe anymore; no matter how many people are there or where it is ‘he’ will be there. Watching with those I-can’t-really-call-them eyes. They're more like pits of nothing, pits of absolute nothing; just blackness so dark that no amount of light can ever penetrate this darkness. And when you look into those pits its like everything that matters dies; you don’t care about anything, you feel as if death would be a better option than living for another two minutes. His voice, my god his voice; once you’ve heard it, it will haunt you.

Never before have I heard such a thing so low it seems to makes make my fingers tremble, or maybe it’s the smell of blood when he talks it's so overwhelming. His figure is unreal. He stands a good eight feet with hands that don’t seem proportional in any way, palms the size of small plates, fingers that seem too long.

His thumb seems to be about the length of two of my middle fingers. And his hands are strong; for having such a thin frame it's incredible that he could lift me to eye height with him. Note I’m not very tall nor am I light, but he did. He raised me face to face with him holding me by my neck. This is when he told me his name. I will not repeat this name for it seems to make him angry when people know it.

I believe it's why he hates me. He does not choke me in public. No, then people would want to know what happened. No, he likes head games, like when you're walking between classes and then all of a sudden there is blood everywhere and everyone is dead. And it’s not like just a simple death but horrific sights that even the sickest of people would cringe at.

It happens so fast that I can’t help but scream, or he will stand at the end of a hall, and stare, and point those dead branches of fingers at you, or someone you care about and pull a smile so wide it seems to tear open his mouth revealing those spikes that we would call teeth. But the worst thing he does, the thing he did today, is take the form of myself and make me watch as he tortures me; I can almost feel the pain breaking my own arm to the point the bone bursts forth from the skin as I watch the blood shoot forth like a fountain everywhere even on me. I can smell it, feel it, taste it; it IS my blood there is no doubt.

Or he will snap his neck completely around and smile and wink at me. He tortures this body, which tortures my mind. This is the first time I’ve said anything to anyone, and I dare not say anything aloud for he’s not always watching but he’s always there. I think he’s mad now. He’s standing in the doorway hands clenched into fists. I don’t think I’ll see tomorrow.

If you feel something watching you now I’m sorry, I’m not sure if me telling you this will let him know you exist but I truly am sorry. If he asks you your name, don’t tell him. If he tries to introduce himself, don’t listen. For as soon as you know each other's name you belong to him.

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