Over the last few hours I have learned the true meaning of fear. Fear is the knowledge that there is no way out. Fear is the thought that your "Judgement Day" is nearing. Fear is the truth that you are going to die... except when you don't. And the fact that you can make someone feel overwhelming fear without killing them makes it the perfect tool for torture. What drives fear is more complicated. Fear can be derived from suspense, by show of power, or even by giving your victim proof of what you can do to them. And even though fear is torture, what I'm feeling is so much worse that torture. What I am feeling is death, constantly beating me with a blunt club. Over and over and over again, no hope, no escape, and no answer to my pleas for mercy.
It's 5:46 in the morning right now, and I didn't sleep at all. How could I? The door is still locked and I've had nothing to do. A day ago, the police finding me and bringing me back home to my parents was my biggest worry, but that doesn't seem as bad. I picked up the note that was left yesterday and read it again. "One day is gone, two to go... what does that mean?" I think. Yesterday was apparently the second day, so today is the last? So that means that the first day was the day I ran a way? "No way is that a coincidence, is this... thing... counting down the days I was away from home?" That thought made me a little sick. What happens when the "timer" hits zero? Something told me that I don't want to find out. I get up to wash my face, and as I walk towards the bathroom, I hear a faint dripping noise from inside. Slowly, I creak open the door to see the strangest sight in my life. The restroom is completely spotless. No stains on the walls, no shit on the floor, no chips in the wall, there's not even a faint scent of piss in the air. Convinced that my eyes are failing me, I glance at the mirror. I instantly regret this decision. All the cracks and swear words are gone, but in their place, something else resides. Another poem, written in what I can only guess is blood, is smeared in the middle of it. It reads,
"Today is your last day of life,
Tomorrow will be full of strife.
And just in case you need a clue,
In eight-teen hours, I'm coming for you.
No need to worry, no need to pack,
Because you're never coming back.
Where you're going, runaways like you shine,
Where you're going, your soul will be mine."
There was no word to describe how I felt, I was speechless. I couldn't move, I couldn't breath, I couldn't look away, and I couldn't help but think that, again, I wasn't going to sleep tonight.