It was there.
Ringing, in the back of my head. Like a phone call you expect but don't want to answer. Like the doorbell ringing but knowing that all that awaits on your doorstep is death itself. Like knowing that everything you've ever done in your life, all the years of pain and joy, of hurt and healing, of betrayals and promises, of family and friends. Knowing that all of it - all of it - was a waste of time.
The feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when it becomes unbearable. The feeling when you know the next breath you take is going to be your last. The feeling you get when you know your death will be horrifying and torturous.
That is what I felt.
I didn't move. I didn't breath. I felt myself growing colder by the second. My eyes burned and my lungs were caving in. But if I blinked, if I breathed - he would hear me.
I knew it was all part of his plan. His sole purpose. He was here to drive me mad. To destroy my passion, my family, my home, my life. He wanted to take all of it. For what? For the sake of his own damn entertainment. I was a pawn, a playing piece, the computer on the other end. I was the worthless fool - the thing that only comes into existence to be destroyed.
My life was over, and I knew it. Because it was there. There, just in the back of my head.
Static.
