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The Police Can't Save You Now


I was lying in bed by myself, nodding off to sleep, when I rolled over and saw someone standing in the corner of my room.

He didn’t even bother trying to hide himself… He just stood there, staring at me.

It was too dark to make out a face, but I know the figure of a man holding a knife when I see one. I was too scared to scream, so I just lay there in my bed, accepting my fate.

He walked over, his boots on my carpet breaking the already horrifying silence, and leaned down to smell my hair, and caress my face.

After a minute or two of it, he walked out of my room. I waited half an hour to get up, because I was too scared to even bat an eyelash.

I called the cops, filed a report, and the man didn’t show up again. I had so many questions; was this just a random thing? Did I have a stalker? Am I a murder or sexual abuse target?

I went to the police station again the next week in hopes of finding out more, thinking of the atrocities that could be my fate. An officer saw me crying, and came over to hug me and console me.

As he held me and let me cry into his shoulder, he softly whispered into my ear, “You smell different when you’re awake.”

—
Credits to: wesleykeith7

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