No-one was about to hear me whether I shouted or screamed. There was only me, so a whisper was all that was required. Only I needed to hear it. Only me...
Was I trying to convince myself? If so, it didn't work. My own voice sounded as if it were mocking me. Laughing in the face of my fear. Except, I wasn't afraid.
The shadows crept closer as the sun set outside, the glowing yellow disc of safety turning it's back on me, what might happen being too much for even fire to watch. No. Leave it to the moon, cold and unfeeling, to witness my fate.
I'm not scared of you!, I yelled in my mind.
It didn't matter. I knew it was untrue. It was too late and fear was my only friend. Fear was all that would keep me company. I'd heard the screams of my family in their rooms. Screams that, abruptly, were silenced. I knew it was only a matter of time before it was my turn. I wouldn't cry out. I wouldn't give the satisfaction of the verbal incarnation of my inner turmoil. The shake in my hands did that for me.
Staring into the mirror, my reflection was fading too. I welcomed its disappearance, even as it meant the shadows would consume me. Its smile was unsettling. A demonic slant on lips thin and dry.
I looked at my trembling hands. At the blood. At the knife.
Lifting it to my neck, I pulled it across my throat.
"I'm not sca........"
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This is written for the _creepy_pasta September prompt, 'I'm Not Scared of You.'
