Tick Tock

I hear the slightest sound in the middle of the night. 
Both my heart and my breath have ceased for the moment.
I am completely motionless.
There goes another noise.
This time, it is more distinct.
It is a creak—a sound that could have only occurred because of one thing.
I violently turn my body in the direction opposite of this disturbance.
I know exactly what is coming next.

There is a sliver of light at the bottom of the door. Someone calls my name to ask if I am awake.
Of course I am. But they can never know.

I get fewer hours in a night than I should (which is something that may hurt me later on in life). But my mind is so alive and analytical, how can it possibly rest with all of this creativity flowing inside of me? I stir in my bed at night because I crave to satisfy this guilty pleasure of mine. I must continue or I will simply go mad.

The person shifts from foot to foot on the loose fitting piece of the hardwood floor. At last, the light has faded, and I suddenly breathe again. They mustn’t catch me.

At least not tonight.


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