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What was that strange noise? Was that.... Was that my heart?

Placing a hand on my chest, I felt my heart pounding against my palm rapidly. It was begging to be freed. I was sweating, but my hands and feet were cold as if I had stuck them in ice for hours. I wanted to cry. My throat was all scratchy and dry, my eyes prickled with tears, and my vision was disrupted by the droplets. My knees were trembling slightly, threatening to give out as I leaned against the sliding glass door. I was terrified to be outside right now.

The sound of guns going off made red flags of fear go off in my head and I dropped my book and blanket, sprinting for the door. I tried to get my hands to work so I could lock the door, but my fingers were shaking so bad that I couldn't get the stupid lock to work. Frustrated, even more scared, and suddenly exhausted, I gave up and started for the stairs.

My hands held on to the railings on either side of the stair case. They helped me stay on my feet. My knees weren't the most trustworthy right now, they wanted me to give up, fall on to the floor, and just lay there, like I did the last time this happened. I refused to give in just yet. I pushed on until I got to my room and that's where I managed to get the door to lock.

I collapsed in a heap on to my bed on my side. I stared blankly ahead at the television that wasn't on. The silence was screaming at me and that's when I turned the tv on to drown it out. A few more moments passed as I listened to my heart beating wildly in my ears still.

My knees were brought up to my chest and my arms were tucked between my knees and my chest. Warm, wet tears ran down my cheeks, dampening my blankets. This was so exhausting.... so tiring. As my crying and sobbing continued, I eventually fell asleep.


Knock. Knock. Knock.

I brought my hand up to rub my eyes, turning over and reaching out for the blanket, but then realizing that I had never actually covered myself up with a blanket.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Was that really a knock I just heard? I lifted my head up and listened for a moment, but nothing happened. I laid my head back against the bed and stared at the ceiling. My whole body ached, but my head hurt specifically. It felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to it.

Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!

The knocks were a little louder and more demanding now, which made me realize they were real. I pushed myself out of bed and brushed a few pieces of dirty blonde hair back that stuck to my face. I wasn't expecting anybody, so I grabbed my sig-sauer p226 from its place in the top drawer of my dresser. I slipped it into the back waist band of my shorts and made sure my top covered it.

Only when I was two steps from the door did I remember I was in clothes I had been in for the past two days. I glanced down and took note of the very short, but comfortable shorts and oversized ugly t-short I wore. I snatched my cream colored large cardigan off of the back of the sofa and continued on to the door.

Knock! Knock—

"I'm coming." I grumbled, my voice a little scratchy as I unlocked the two dead bolts and the chain on the front door. It was pitch black outside with the exception of the moon shining brightly down on my front yard. There were four people standing out on my porch.

"Can I help you?" I asked, flipping the porch light on. I winced as the light burned my eyes and kind of sunk back into the darkness of my living room.

"Widia, it's me." A familiar feminine voice spoke. "Can we come in?"

"Natasha? What the hell? I told you not to show up at my house." I ruffled my questionably clean hair and silently wished I would've put it up before answering the door.

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