We the Living

She remembered being buried so deep in her own mind surrounded by nothing but darkness. And the voice that called to her.

"Just give up," it'd told her. "You're better off dead."

She remember hearing stories of the creatures that snuck into the minds of the lost. They take over. They were the reason no one went out past eleven or before two. The reason bodies covered the roads.

"No one wants you," it'd chanted like some sort of mantra.

There were special teams of people who patrolled the streets for these monsters. The kind of creature that rotted you from the inside out.

She remember being told that once one got you, you were better off dead. And, after several agonizing days, sometimes even months, you'd be dead. It ate your soul until there was nothing left and then jumped to the next body.

She felt it tugging at her meager existence.

"Just die," it's told her. "Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die."

It's claws dug deeper into her very soul, trying to pry her open and eat her from the inside out. She could feel herself start to crack. Darkness swept in like waves during a storm, tying itself to whatever it could.

"Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die. Die."

"Shut the hell up!" She finally shouted.

She ground her fading soul into the creature until she was nearly part of it.

And then she pulled back.