II. Paranoia

She’d be reading in her chair, or snuggled up in bed watching tv. There’d be a knock at the door and she’d wonder who was at this odd hour. She wouldn’t be scared that it’s an axe murderer because for some reason she just knew it wasn’t. And so she’d get up and walk to the door and she’d be looking real good, which is impressive because she’s not even wearing pants right now and her makeup is off and her hair is a day old. And she’d open the door and there he’d be. Like some crazy movie scene. And she’d be caught so off guard that for a second she’d forget his name, even though she knew it all too well. And he would say a lot of things really fast but nothing made sense until he kept saying I want you back I want you back I want you back.
She would be terrified.
Stuck to the ground and cemented in. Petrified. Glued to her threshold like a woman in a horror film and she’d be yelling to herself run run run, why aren’t you running away. Yes just say yes he’d say. And she would stand there. Unable to speak. Vocal chords suddenly vanished from her dry throat. Immovable. Eyes bulging and white and round about to pop out of socket. Her head now getting warmer and warmer. Her ears on fire. Say yes say yes. Say no say no. Don’t you dare say yes. Tell him go tell him go. She’d stand frozen and shaking. Sounds echoing and clanging and ringing. She saw him standing there, on repeat. She could feel herself leaning forward while another voice pulled her back. And he looked at her with such sorrow, like a child angry and sad that they’d been left by a parent, but still so much love. It ripped and pulled within her. Say yes he whispered, his voice turning into a soft plea, drawing her in. Say no said her own, screaming at her and pulling her back. She could feel her ligaments straining, her ears bleeding, the hounds of paranoia tearing at her limbs.
And then she’d wake.

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