As he finally finished breathing, the blood in his punctured lungs having done its work, I felt relief for the first time in years. I'd finally be able to sleep and not have to worry about him finding where I'd hidden the kitchen knives or where the lighter was or what the combination for the medicine cabinet was.
I thought I was finally safe until I saw a faint outline rise up from his body and rush towards me, knocking me into the bedside table. I woke up a few hours later, dazed and bleeding from somewhere on my head. It was hard to tell exactly where when the pain seemed to radiate with every pulse.
I staggered to my feet, fumbling about for my phone to report that we'd definitely just been attacked or it was a robbery gone wrong. If I got detail muddled then that was because of the head injury they gave me and the vague description of an average height man with brown eyes and brown hair would lead then nowhere, much to my obvious dismay - my attacker and his murderer might never be found!
Just when I thought it was all settled, as I laid in the hospital bed I felt like I was being watched, turned my head and saw that the faint outline was crouched next to me. I felt my blood run cold when I realised he wasn't ever going to leave, not til I was dead and even then the bastard would find a way to follow me.
He was right all along - I'll never be alone.
He won't allow it.
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