Where am I?

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by xiomaramoonshine

by xiomaramoonshine

I have this really funny story, actually, about me and my sleep

Or lack thereof
See, my parents don't get home till late at night so most days I was left home alone

I don't know if it was the various sounds my head told me were happening

or the additional 14 missing and partially found recent bodies of teenage girls in the area that year

or the fear of men distilled into me

but I had learned to carry weapons around wherever I went

even in my home, I sleep with knives because you're most vulnerable when you're unaware.

Women are always the "vulnerable" ones

whether it's from the men she has to walk past,

the man standing at her window watching her sleep,

the one watching her on her way to work,

the one who just can't get over her,

the one sneaking in and smelling her underwear,

or the ones that she calls family

Little girls are getting kidnapped, possibly raped, and murdered

all because that man just couldn't... leave... them... alone

So I sleep with a knife

For some reason, covering my face with my my little pony blanket doesn't protect me from the monster in my closet,

under my bed,

or the one who leaves his scent on my pillows,

like it used to.

maybe that's why i'm in this weird concrete room...