You Were Born Inside Your Head

Chapter 1

I stood on my balcony, the last stub of a cigarette pinched between my thumb and forefinger, the glowing ember casting an eerie light on my contemplative expression.

The night was unnaturally still, the only sound the occasional rustle of leaves dancing with the whims of the breeze.

My thoughts wandered to Alice, a friend I hadn't seen in what felt like an eternity. Her texts grew more sporadic, her emojis less cheerful. Yet, she remained a persistent presence in my mind, a silent companion to my solitude.

She has been struggling with something, that much was clear, but she never confided in me. The more I thought about it, the more my curiosity grew into a thorny vine, wrapping around the quiet moments of my life.

A sudden noise from inside the house snapped me out of my daze. The door slammed open, and the clatter of shattered glass echoed through the stillness. Panic shot through me like a bolt of lightning, and I froze, the cigarette dropping to the concrete, forgotten.

The shadow of a figure darted through my living room, and the sharp scent of fear began to replace the calming smoke. Instinct took over, and I retreated into the corner of the balcony, my heart hammering in my chest like a caged animal desperate to escape.

I heard the heavy footsteps of the intruder approaching, each step a drumbeat of dread. I clutched the ashtray, feeling the cold metal dig into my palm. The only weapon within reach, it was a feeble defense against the unknown threat.

The figure emerged from the shadows, a tall silhouette with a stocking over his head. The absurdity of the situation hit me, and for a moment, I almost laughed. But the glint of a knife in his hand wiped the smile from my face.

"What do you want?" I managed to croak out, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

The intruder didn't reply. He simply stared at me, his eyes gleaming through the holes in the stocking. His silence was more unnerving than any demand could have been.

In a burst of adrenaline, I swung the ashtray at his head. It connected with a satisfying crack, and he stumbled back, dropping the knife. The moment was mine, and I didn't waste it. I lunged forward, attempting to kick him in the groin.

But he was quicker than I had anticipated. He caught my ankle and yanked it upwards, sending me tumbling to the ground. Pain shot through me, and I felt my breath leave my lungs in a whoosh. As I lay there, dazed and vulnerable, he straddled me, his weight pressing down like a mountain.

His hand wound through my hair, pulling my head back, exposing my neck to the cold, unforgiving night air. I could feel his hot breath on my skin, smelling faintly of stale tobacco. The panic grew, my thoughts racing like a wildfire through my mind.

I fought back with everything I had, clawing at his eyes, bucking my hips, trying to dislodge him. But he was stronger, more determined. His grip tightened, and I could feel the warm trickle of blood where the knife had bitten into my scalp. The fear grew, turning my blood to ice.

As the blade inched closer to my throat, a strange sense of acceptance washed over me. If this was to be my end, so be it. At least I wouldn't have to wonder about Alice anymore. The thought of her brought a pang of regret, a sadness that I hadn't been there for her when she needed me.

But even in the face of death, I couldn't help but feel a twisted amusement at the irony. After months of worrying about her, it was I who was about to become the next chapter in someone else's tragedy.