2. Night number two - Of the mess that has been made.
I finally posted my letter today, after some damn hard work and writing. Only a few papers ended up thrown into the bin and I seemed almost pleased with myself as I slotted the thin envelope through slot onto the post box and proceeded to wander down the street with my hands buried in my pockets. The street that I lived on was extremely bland, houses lined the whole road in a neat line, but the exterior was worn and the paint on the walls was wearing and peeling off, the doors neglected and unwelcoming, the windows smashed by local school children, throwing rocks was fun nowadays? Huh, I would never have guessed.
I got home soon enough, retreating to my study to get started on the illustrations for my boss, I figured that since I'd written my letter, maybe I had got my concentration stride back? I was wrong. As soon as I stepped a foot into my study I stopped at the sight in front of me, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, gaping in surprise at the usually organised room.
The picture was horrific. The drawers had been ransacked, years of work lay splayed out on the shag carpet, the complete content of my desk was thrown to the ground like entrails that had been spilt. But what really caught my eye was the writing on the wall, it read: 'Remember me?' with a smiley face drawn next to it, and when I reached out to gently touch the red fluid, it felt sticky and smelt oddly like copper. I stumbled back and tripped, landing on my back on the floor, hissing in pain as tears stung my eyes. Not again... please no...
I couldn't stand it, I stood and immediately ran as fast as I could, out of the room, only taking my keys, locking the door and possibly even locking the unknown person in, I constantly felt like someone was watching me, and I tried to shake the fuzzy feeling from off of myself as I ran down the road that evening. Away from all horrors and scares, or so I thought.