foniasophobia
the fear of being killed. 
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YY/MM/DD

7:05

It's silent. Everything is silent.

The only thing I hear is the clock above me. Its hands are consistent, steady as they rotate, but I could not feel more messed up than I do right now.

My fists are clenched so hard that there is blood on my fingernails. I'm sweating, but a constant shiver goes down my spine. It aches. Everything aches. There is something terribly wrong with me, and there is something terribly wrong about what I'm about to do.

It's not too late. I'm still in my apartment, and I can stay here instead of going out. Instead of committing a murder. Instead of making, perhaps, the most foolish decision anyone could ever make.

But, I can't. The voice in my head is screaming at me to do it. To go out there and kill someone.

It's torture, that's what it is. The louder the voice becomes, the more vulnerable I become. I feel trapped. Caged. There's nothing I can do, other than to give into its submission.

Now, I can't take it any longer. If I resist the temptation, I'll go insane. Perhaps, I am already insane. I don't know. Eventually, it'll become too much for me to handle and I'll kill myself, or possi