The Face is Unknown, the Man was Slender
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Thump...thump....thump....thump....
This beat seems so automatic to me, now. A song in my head. Heart beat, almost. Foot steps, actually.
I thought the scariest thought would be being alone with no one there for me. But, no. The scariest thought is the thought of someone always being with me. The thought of a man constantly being there at times I don't even see him, but I know he's there. That man is not a God that guides you to the light through the forest when I have given up all hope. The man is one who makes me fear hope. He makes me fear moving, or blinking, or screaming for help. I know I'm scared. I can deny it all I wan't. I can yell, "I'M NOT SCARED, COME AND GET ME," all I want, but the fear keeps him dedicated. I don't fear death. Not anymore. I fear living constantly waiting for him to strike. Waiting for the moment when he finally takes me.
Long arms. Pale white. Black suit. No face. This image is permanently in my sight. Everything I see is him. Everything I do, he follows.
Slender.
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