As I huddle in this corner of my room, as far away from any entrance as I can get, I can hear them coming for me.

I cringe as I hear them whispering my name, close my eyes as I see their shadows run past my windows and door. They're at the door now, beating against it, scratching it, whispering all of the grotesque things they want to do to me.

WHY  WON'T  THEY  JUST  LEAVE  ME  ALONE?!

I feel the cold steel of our kitchen knife in my hand, and I barely notice myself lifting it up, pointed at my neck.

I feel a moment of clarity now, as I close my eyes. It's better to die by my hands, than by theirs. This is my last moment of resistance.

*Goodbye