It is not wise to let someone like that know your name. Maybe, if I had known that, I would have stayed silent. Maybe I would have had a chance to get away: to save myself. Now it's too late though. I have been marked so there's no going back. I have to keep running, constantly living in fear. If he catches me, I'm as good as dead. No one has been said to avoid him. When he wants something, he goes after it: no hesitation. Everyday I live in constant paranoia. It feels as if I'm not living at all anymore. I feel like a puppet, a marionette. It's as though he's controlling my every move. I can't deal with it anymore. Every time a floorboard creaks or there is an unexplained shadow, I think he's finally come for me. I can't help but think that he's already here, stalking me, watching my every move, calculating me. It's a game to him. He doesn't care what happens to me. He thrives on pain and paranoia. It's like I can never let it go. Everyday, I look back on those few moments. The feeling of the icy chill on my cheek made me feel as if I would never be happy again. It was as if all the joy and happiness in the world was being sucked out of me. It was all because of the frozen lips of Death.
It was a cold, winter day in December and I was driving home for Christmas. The snow was falling in torrents, pelting the windshield. I wrapped my gloved hands around the steering wheel, trying not to let the frigid temperatures get to me. My vision of the road was practically nonexistent through the white sheet of heavy snowfall. My breathing made visibility even worse. The vapor condensed on the window, resulting in me having to wipe it off every few minutes with my old sweater's torn up sleeve. The radio kept cutting in and out, allowing me to only hear small bits of the weather report. In between the blasts of the crackly radio reports, the silence was deafening. Michigan's winters are known for sometimes being torrential and unpredictable, this year more than ever. One day the sun may be shining and it may be in the sixties outside, but the next it would be dark and snowy. My first year of college had so far been a bust. The weather was so awful that we never knew when we would be able to go outside and when we would have to stay locked away in the dorms for weeks at a time. I had lived off of frozen dinners and Ramen noodles for most of the year anyway but now, it seemed as if that was the only thing stores wouldn't run out of. Canned food disappeared off the shelves in a flurry of people.
Everyone could sense that something bad was coming, though no one knew what. That's when people started to disappear at a rapid pace. Many speculations arose surrounding the mysterious disappearances. Some said the government was taking people in for experimentation, while others believed it was the work of a group of highly dangerous gang members. This was a very peculiar thing, as we had never had any problems with either type of people in the past. No gangs were present in the area and almost the entire town supported the government's views and work around the city. The roads were frequently taken care of and it was relatively clean for the most part, give or take a few blocks. The only time we had to worry about travel was during the dead of winter, when even snowplows could not be present on the icy roads. Black ice was always a concern, of course, but normally, they were able to salt the streets thoroughly to prevent skidding.
At this point, my voice was nearly gone and even the occasional cough to prevent total silence had begun to sting. My shivering had become more rapid and violent, leaving me with no choice but to pull over. That's when I started to feel paranoia sweeping over me. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to slow my breathing to a more even pace. It felt as though someone was staring at me, calculating my every move, much in the way a lion stalks its prey. I don't know where it came from but suddenly, I felt as though my senses had been heightened. I could hear the pounding of my heart in my chest, beating in a rhythmic, slightly soothing pattern. I turned the key and let the car slowly come to life. Turning the steering wheel, I began to pull away from the side of the road. The snow had subsided quite a bit and I pressed my foot down on the gas. Something felt so wrong, so unnatural, and I was determined to get away from the feeling. I sped up, waiting, hoping that the feeling would go away, even temporarily, and give me some relief. Some parts of me urged my mind to believe that I was delusional, that I was making up something to keep my mind occupied. I couldn't believe that though, no matter how hard I was trying to. It felt too palpable. It was almost like if I reached out, I would be able to touch whatever was watching me. I felt as though, at any moment, it was going to grab me.
