End of a Night

It's been a long night.

I woke up with blood all over my legs. My head feels better than it ever has. My pistol is missing, as is my camera. I still have the photograph, though.

The front door was wide open again when I woke up. I'm alone in my house, though; I made sure of it. There's a long trail of blood leading out into the woods.

I can't explain it, but I have the feeling that thing's not coming back. I'm sure it's still out there; I'm certain it's literally not a man, and that bullets could never stop it. No one's ever gonna believe that, but I don't care. I can be a crazy lady. It's better than what I was. But I'm sure the thing won't bother me anymore. Because I was once afraid of it, while now it's a bit of a fading memory.

I can't even remember what its face looked like. The descriptions I read on this blog just sound like ridiculous imaginations, impossible to picture.

Let me just.. say that again. I'm not afraid anymore. I went through a horrible event sixteen years ago, but it's over now. I've grieved. I've shed my fair share of tears, and I've faced my fair share of inner demons. During the past few weeks, I let my memories get the better of me. I committed acts that made me no better than the people I always despised.

And for that, I'm going to turn myself in. I murdered my boss, and I'm going to turn myself in for it. I want to be a new person, to forget all about the creature that's been stalking my mind all my life. I won't let it haunt me anymore.

Thank you for the blog suggestion, Mister Reginald. You're a fantastic counselor.

My name is Veronica, and I'm done suffering.