I Am Not Like Them

You there. Excuse me. You sitting there, don't make a sound. Don't move a muscle. They're watching you. Can you feel their eyes on you? They won't blink; they're waiting. They can see inside the deepest chasms of your mind. Oh, yes, they can see everything; your worst mistakes, your excruciating regrets, your most sincere fears. They are hungry for your chaos. Look them in the eyes and they will devour every pleasant memory you ever got nostalgic about, regurgitate your insecurities and promote agony wherever there is space within you. They want to feast on your panic. If you let them know your terror they will crash into your skin with claws like brandished barbed wire. They will gnaw on your spine with canines made of torn sheet metal and craving malevolence. But me? I am safe. You can let me in. I'm not like them. Just open the door. I will protect you from them. Just let me in. I am not like them. I promise. I could never watch you writhe in torment of this hellish night. Not I. Just let me in, or I can unlock the door for you. I would never allow them to treat your flesh like a fecund field sewing lines of red across your stomach, watching your tears drip down to quench my thirst. Just let me in. They wouldn't dare hurt you while I am close. After all, I am their queen. I'm coming in.