There is a sharp pulsing in my forehead, something writhing beneath the skin. It's been there ever since I fainted on a hike in the lake district, steadily growing and always moving. Always whispering to me, warning me about all the monsters I've been surrounding myself with over the years.
At first I thought this was just a concussion, something that would fade as I got better. Only instead of fading it became more coherent and those faint garbled words soon became full sentences soon became rambling monologues about how sharp Sharon's teeth are.
And in her defense, her teeth have always been a little too sharp.
When the pulsing in my forehead began I started to see the monsters around me for their true selves and Sharon's sharp teeth were the most human part of her. I swear I can still feel her thousand eyes staring at me, even after I carved them all out of her and threw them into the river.
The pulsing in my forehead will soon outgrow me, it whispers as much to itself when I'm asleep and its words seep into my dreams where it can't reach me. It's working its way down my face right now, heading for my mouth where it'll break my jaw and be free at last.
What it doesn't yet realise is that the flat has been filling up with carbon monoxide for hours.
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