He didn't show

Just what the title says folks. Monday came and went with no sign of Tom. I’m not sure what to think right now. I just keep sitting here playing with my favorite piece of quartz.  I haven’t slept since early Sunday afternoon which is probably making that whole thinking thing even more difficult than normal. I’m hungry, but the idea of eating is making me nauseous. And my hands are shaking so badly that I couldn’t cook anything anyway.

I looked at myself in the mirror earlier. I mean really looked at myself. I’ve got such dark circles under my eyes that they look like those bruises you get when you’ve got a broken nose. I’ve lost weight and I’ve gotten so pale from not going outside anymore. My skin is pulled so tightly against the bones of my face that you would swear my cheekbones are going to cut right through it.

This isn’t living. What would have happened if Tom showed up and I did manage to stop him? It’s only a matter of time until it comes back. I haven’t seen it since the night it killed my godchildren. But I know I’m not free. How can any of us ever be free? I remember the night it grabbed my hair with it's tentacles and how it burned when it brushed against my scalp and it felt so dirty like slime like filth and it took days of showers before I could touch my own hair again without using gloves and how could I bear it if that thing touched me again?

I don’t know if it’s even worth fighting anymore.