The purring of the cat echoes in the dark room.
The hair on my body rises and it gets colder and wetter.
The heart starts to pump fear instead of blood.
It's hard to be brave without seeing,
And is even harder to have the courage to see.
The creaking of the door makes it even scarier.
The souls slither in and start to whisper.
The whispering gets louder by every tick of the clock.
When they got impatient I was the victim to their violence.
They kept beating until my body went sore.
Soon the wounds started to bleed fear,
Eventually it stopped.
I knew the wounds were Healing
Because my heart was still beating.
But this time it pumped blood