heathens

wait for them to ask you

there's blood on my hands. i don't know who's it is or why it's there, but it's slowly dripping off onto the floor.

"no," i mutter. "i'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" i can feel something closing around my throat and i start to scream.

my eyes shoot open to see the man with the drumsticks from earlier. his hand is over my mouth and he's shushing me. i realize i've been dreaming the whole time.

"calm down, tyler, it was just a nightmare," he says softly.

my eyes widen slightly. how does he know my name? slowly, i breathe in through my nose in order to calm down. he eventually moves his hand away.

"who are you?" i ask, almost in a whisper.

"that's not important," he responds, putting his hand on my knee. it'd be comforting if he wasn't a complete stranger in a prison. "i know what happened that night."

"w-what? how?"

he smiles. "you're just going to have to trust me. go back to sleep." he gets up and walks out the door, leaving me alone.

when i hear his footsteps grow quieter, i get up and go over to the door, pushing it so it'll open, but it's locked.

how did he get in here?

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just finished the outline for this story. y'all are gonna hate me. -g