Hello >:3

Week 3: A Writting That Takes Place in One Room

I couldn't believe I was having to invest more of my weekend time into this.  To be entirely honest, it was starting to annoy me how he would continuously evade death, as though he were a piglet in a petting zoo, slipping away from hyper, sticky-fingered children.  When I realized my past failures were starting to stack up, I decided I would try a different method.  I had quickly found a space suitable to camp out in for the night.  As I wait, I steal a glance at the knife carefully placed immediately to my right, before refocusing my gaze to the single entrance of the party room.  Eventually, I heard them, footsteps, swiftly increasing in volume as the source crept closer to my current location.  The loud metal clanks reached a sudden stop, just outside the door; my hand snapped to my knife's handle.  Brandishing the sharpened blade, I calmly rose from my position on the floor, watching carefully as the knob slowly turned with a labored creak, instantly followed by an ear-peircing screech as the old door swung open, revealing the very cause of the anger, stress, pain, and sadness I had endured for all these years; I had been right, he was here.  As he stumbled into the room, dimly lit by the street lights shining through the small covered window in the back corner, I made my move.  I sprinted to his side and, mustering every bit of strength I could, plunged the knife as far as possible into his chest.  I then made my escape, propelling myself toward the window; I froze when I reached it, realizing the glass was much too thick to shatter.  When I turned around, I saw him lurching toward me, seemingly unfazed by the knife I had successfully placed nearly a foot into his chest.  As I sat there cornered, accepting my fate, I recognized what I think I had already subconsciously known; he was unbound by life and death, immortal, and I would never be able to truly bring an end to what he started.  No matter what I do, he will always come back.