Fear

Stop. 

Inhale and exhale, shallow and uneven. 

Eyes flick about, every shadow catching. 

Sweat beads from every pore. Fear. 

Heart pumping crazily, adrenaline surging through but paralyzing. 

Fingers clutch at the textured bed sheets, suddenly every thread is perfectly clear to the touch. 

Things creak where they shouldn’t. A board shifts and pops under weight that is wrong.  

Rustle across the room and a shadow shifts. 

“I’m alone. I’m alone.” Repeated whisper. “It’s just the house. It’s just it settling, just the heat.” Words to calm the nerves. 

A noise of friction across a floor. 

Breath catches.

I’m not alone.