I’m being followed. I know I am. There is the dark entity behind me watching, waiting until I turn around, then it’s gone. But I know it’s still there, I can feel its eyes boring into my back. I try to convince myself that it isn’t there, but I can’t ever go out alone. I can feel the paranoia bringing me down. It doesn’t allow me any comfort or assurance. Trying to forget isn’t just pointless; it’s hazardous to my health. If I forget it and carry on as if nothing is wrong, then it will surely find me. I finally give up. I can no longer handle the shadow at my back. It jeopardizes my sanity. I have merely decided that this thing at my back will either hurt me, or it won’t. Most likely it will, but I’ll chance it, I can never be sure. I walk into the shadows where it is best hidden and turn around to wait for it to spring resigned to my fate. Suddenly it detaches itself from the shadows and springs, and I find myself face to face… with a puppy. I laugh in the knowledge that all this time the thing I feared had just wanted a home. It was after this joyful laughter had even fully departed my lips that I felt a pair of icy cold hands envelop my throat. Before that laugh could turn into a scream I felt a searing pain across my throat. Then, I was no more.