25 January, 2014

They were here

The wind howled. Tree branches tapped against my window. There was no storm, no lightning and no rain. Just wind, wind and more wind. It roared and whipped around my house, sounding like myriads of voices, hammering at every door and window to be let in.

They said that they would come for me tonight. I didn't dare sleep. What if I never woke up? What if I went missing? I didn't know exactly what they meant when they said they would come for me. Was it to kill me? Was it to kidnap me? Was it to force me to do something I wouldn't want to do otherwise?

I had shoved a knife inside the waistband of my trousers and hidden weapons throughout the house - just in case. Perhaps they wouldn't come tonight. It was very cold and windy after all. Maybe something would dissuade them from coming here.

What was that? And that?

The noise of glass being smashed and crashing to the ground filtered slowly through the wind's multitudinous shouting. I ducked into the only hiding place I could think of. The back of my cramped wardrobe, behind the piles of clothes. I covered myself with a layer of neatly folded clothes and froze.

They were here.

They were here.

The whispering. The footsteps.

It wasn't my fault. The witnessing. The saving of the couple's lives. I mean, I hadn't expected to be there either.

It hadn't taken long for them to find out who I was or where I lived. It hadn't taken long for them to slowly strip away everything and everyone I knew and loved. The first, my cat, had been a warning, but when the police asked me questions, I couldn't lie. I couldn't not tell them about the attempted murders. Not that my testimony had helped them catch the culprits. The couple were killed in the hospital and my boyfriend disappeared.

I moved house and it was graffitied. My neighbours shunned me. Don't ask me why. How would I know?

The media came asking for my story. I was reluctant. Refused to speak to them, but somehow, somewhere, they got the story. Did a policeman tell them? My parents? I don't know. I only know that my parents disappeared, leaving behind streaks of blood. No bodies.

I moved house again.

Somewhere far away and deserted.

It wasn't my fault that they had people in the area dealing drugs and a policeman just happened to be passing by while I was also passing by.

My sister disappeared and a heart-rending, frightening CD had appeared in my letterbox. A letter, they said, with love.

Why target my family? Why hack into my devices and call all my friends for a party only to kill them en masse?

Why not just kill me?

Well. They were here now.

The wind blustered into the closet and found its way to me between the clothes. A rough hand grabbed me. Dragged me. The knife fell out my trousers. My neat piles of clothes fell haphazardly onto the floor. A blurred face. No weapons at hand.

They were here.

No where to go.

No where to hide.

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