I don't know. I think they're covering it up, but it's the type of thing you don't ever expect to see. Unless you happen to be living in a poorly written sci-fi soap opera. But I'm not. At least I don't think I am. (and if it turns out I am, fuck you, writer!)
I guess there are just some things the human mind wasn't meant to comprehend. I keep looking over my shoulder, expecting to see him standing there ominously, like some sort of horrible Where's Waldo background fixture. Sometimes I think I can hear him at night, see him from the corner of my eye. He's never there. But he will be. The most horrible part is knowing that it was soon. I could see that.
I think I know how people feel when doctors tell them they have only so long to live. I want to run away screaming, maybe find some nice, hot Caribbean island for the next six months before he comes to rip my heart out of my chest. They still haven't found it, you know. I don't think they ever will. I wish I could just skip college and do something with my life, except I can't. I know that staying here would make me a sitting duck, but I don't know if trying to run would just bring me closer.
Maybe this is all an elaborate prank, and I truly hope it is. Or maybe I'll wake up one night and hear the beating of a heart that isn't mine.
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