Sometimes I wonder if I’m going mad. It hasn’t been waking me up as often, but in exchange, I’m starting to see it everywhere I go. Just tiny glimpses out of the corner of my eye, little jumps that make me wonder did I really see it or am I just becoming so paranoid that a street lamp or shadow can convince to me run in the opposite direction?

I had to work late last night. I’ve tried very hard to avoid doing that the past few months in order to not have to be out after dark, but I couldn’t find a way to explain to my boss why I couldn’t stay later to finish my project. When I was finally able to lock up my office, the lights in the hall were out and there was no one else there. Confession time. I never quite outgrew my childhood fear of the dark. I always sleep with the TV or a small lamp on because if I wake up in the middle of the night and it’s completely dark, I panic. The hallway wasn’t pitch black which was actually worse in a way. There was just enough light to make the shadows seem to grow and dance while I crept down towards the stairs.

It was silent. Not just quiet where you can hear sounds that you don’t normally notice, but dead silent, like someone had hit the mute button on the world. The only sounds were the ones I made. My shoes clicking against the tiles, my skirt rustling as it moved around my legs, and the sound of my breathing which grew shakier and harsher as I kept going.

It felt like forever, but in reality it couldn’t have been more then three minutes. I made it to the stairs and the silence just became too much. I started to sing, just to hear something besides my panic. The only thing I could think of was nursery rhymes.

This is how it starts isn’t it? The final run before you lose your mind or become one of its toys. The nursery rhymes. Hey Diddle Diddle, London Bridge, Three Blind Mice. Never The Crooked Man though. Never ever him.

I made it to my car and got home with no problems. It didn’t even show up at the window last night. So how much of that was it and how much was just me?

I never actually considered the possibility that I would lose my mind or turn into one of its pets. I’ve been so focused on the fact that I will be killed that I forgot about the parts that aren’t as merciful. Maybe I forgot on purpose.

Screw you. You will not do that to me. You’re going to kill me eventually. I know this, I’ve known this from the moment you showed back up in my life. But I will not be yours. My mind belongs to me. Zeke Strahm once told us that it’s not better to end ourselves, to make it work for its food. But I think our madness becomes part of its food. And if it comes down to that, I think the gun that Mr. Spender left me will come in handy after all. At the end of this mess, I am almost certainly a dead woman. But I refuse to become a mad woman as well.

And in that vein of thought, I went to see my lawyer this week. We dealt with several different issues, such as the minor non otherworldly related harassment currently happening. Unfortunately there’s nothing we can do at the moment since I have no proof about this being my ex’s handiwork. The bastard’s smart if nothing else. And then there was the other much more important item.

We started drawing up my will. My savings, a few small investments, but most importantly, the house.

Cathy. We may not have started talking until after your life fell apart, but I know what happened to your house. So I’m leaving mine to you. You can keep it and live here or you can sell it and find a new home wherever you want. I want you and your girl to have somewhere to go when this is all over. You’ve become so dear to me in these past few weeks. I don’t have the right words to express how much your friendship means to me and if I’m going out, I want to know that you and Cynthia have a home. There is one small catch though. If you keep this house, as long as Tony is still homeless, he is allowed to use the spare bedroom. I wouldn’t feel right giving you and Cynthia a home without making sure that her father didn’t have to sleep in an alley.

That being said, I’m still holding on to that dream of you and I and Cynthia having dinner together. Although at this point I think we need to add Thage and Mr. Spender into that picture. It’s nice to have dreams to keep us going.