Sometimes, I wonder. Why do you not love me for me? Why do you never look my way? Have you forgotten about me? Am I really that insignificant to you? Do you not care for me? Is my presence suffocating to you? Do you want me to leave?

But I can't.

I can't leave you.

You need me. Deep down, you know it's true. Without me, you wouldn't be living still. I am the reason you breathe each morning.

I would like to be the air that inhabits you. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.

Only the sound of heavy breathing and the silent tick-tock of the clock hanging on the wall could be heard. She drew a shaky breath, straining her legs. The clock's short hand reached eleven , but the girl didn't stop. She only pushed herself harder, throwing herself more enthusiastically into the dance than before. It seemed that, these days, dance was her only escape. It was the only thing that kept her sane through the months.

She felt as if her mind had left her these last few months.

Everywhere she went, she could hear footsteps following a little distance behind her; she could feel someone breathing down her back. She would hear things, see things.  People called her crazy, saying that she was hallucinating, that there was nothing there. They claimed that she was letting her imagination get the better of her. But they were wrong. She wasn't imagining anything. She could really hear something. She wasn't going crazy. She hadn't lost her mind. But no one wanted to believe her when she said that there was always something-no, someone- there watching her from the background.

She raised the volume of the music, trying to block out her thoughts. Sweat dripped down her forehead and neck, and she clutched her heart, trying to catch her breath. She collapsed onto the ground, her legs shaking. She stopped breathing. Was that a tapping sound she heard? She paused, looking around. She got up and noticed that the door was left slightly ajar. She frowned. Hadn't she made sure that the door was closed and locked securely before she started?

She shook her head, turning the music back on. Music flowed and echoed throughout the eerily empty room. The lights were on, aimed at the center stage that she,  the sole dancer, occupied. Her movements were graceful and fluid. Sweat stained her brow, and she gasped for air. Slowly, her movements became lagging, and it soon became apparent  that every twist, every turn of her feet was painful. But she kept dancing, pushing herself harder with every painful breath. Finally, her own feet betrayed her in mutiny and gave out from beneath her. With a sharp intake of air, she collapsed on the stage. 

She gasped in pain, making sure that her ankle wasn't broken. She sighed with relief to see that it was only a slight sprain, but it was already swelling up painfully. Groaning with frustration, she turned off the music and reached for her phone, rummaging through her bag. She pulled her phone out, pressing the display button repeatedly, but screen wouldn't light up. Dead. Angry, she threw the phone roughly back into her bag.

She lay on her back, trying to control her erratic heartbeat. She should leave soon. She wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place. Sighing, she nursed her wounded ankle. How would she get home at this time? Judging by the clock on the wall, it was already the dead of the night. She rubbed her eyes wearily. There was probably no one awake at this ungodly hour. She would probably be stuck here until dawn. She closed her eyes. She would probably be stuck here for a while, might as well make herself as comfortable as possible. Pulling a towel from her bag, she spread it across the floor and turned off the light. Curling up on the towel, she closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

Her eyelids were getting heavier and heavier, but she could never fall asleep with the cold draft of the room. She shivered, trying to conserve her body heat. Finally finding a comfortable position, she sighed and closed her eyes again. Suddenly a loud slam reverberated throughout the room. She sprang up on her feet, "Who's there?"

No answer.

She shuddered, feeling that she wasn't the only one in the room anymore. "Show yourself," she demanded. Again, there was no reply, only a soft tapping sound. She whirled around wildly, her eyes frantic, "Who's there?"

Footsteps echoed throughout the room, so she couldn't pinpoint their location. She gasped, clutching her racing heart. "What do you want with me?" The footsteps sounded, and they were definitely closer this time. She whirled around in the opposite direction, "Answer me!"

But she didn't need an answer, because she knew.

She knew it was him.

And she knew he had come for her.