Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. What is night versus day when the light of day never reaches your eyes? It could have been a month and it could have been a day. Time lapses without my knowing it. The intricacies and trouble people went through to create the modern clock has no meaning when it is not accessible. Power is worthless unless you can reach the switch, unless it is safe for you to let the light in. For the warm glow to illuminate what I can only guess at is too perilous, even if I knew where to find the switch. The switch allegedly meant to signify the change between light and dark. My switch would be to switch from life to death. Seeing to darkness, feeling to numb, taste to bland everything and anything ripped from my grasp. I saw the room briefly when I entered. The ceiling is triangular, however the room itself must be square for I am forever huddled in a corner. Whatever the amount of time it has been is too long. Clenched muscles feel the same as those relaxed. Sometimes I consider coming out of hiding just to end it all. What though would be the purpose of all this waiting? I might make it out alive, I have the one thing in my backpack that could save me. They have one too, I saw it on my way in, it made me wonder if they are the type of people who could really use it. Could they really look me in the eyes when it came down too it? This however is not what keeps me here, it is my past that holds me back. I promised myself never again, never again would I steal something as valuable as life. Life, time, memory, sense I took it all away and I feel their ends like metal weight slung over my back. Sorrow, regret, guilt, shame, remorse I suppose, yes I feel remorse. You see the faces of- life stealers lets call them- yes life stealers on the news and you see only what you want to see. You see hate and frigid insanity. This is only because it is to intimidating to understand that these people are like you. It is too daunting to imagine you could really do that if the weapon was put in your hand and you had no other choice. Yes, you could be the one to pull the trigger and live in the cold shadows of remorse. Like a broken record I live the moment over and over again in my mind wishing I could go back and change it. I don’t want to fix it so I’m no longer on a most wanted list. No, I want to change it so I can live again. I want to live without seeing all the pain and loss flash before my eyes every time I blink. I just want a chance to be the good person I know I can be. I slam my fist into the ground in frustration, there is no use in trying to change the past.

“Daddy!” the small voice calls, “I hear something in the attic”

Small and feminine, young and pure. This sound so sweet could never be perceived as sinister as the words are to me. The death of me, those words are my finish. If I was clenched before it is nothing compared to how I am now. Every muscle in me is wrenched to emergency overload. It feels as though at any moment I will burst out of my skin and blow the triangular roof off this place. I am armed, I promised I’d never use it again but it may be the only chance I have to get out alive. I close my eyes and try to talk myself out of it. Humans have a tendency to think great things of themselves until these very moments. It is these microscopic instants in time when you know. You know that it is in your nature to fight for yourself physically until the very last second even if everything else inside you screams to spare your opponent. The luminosity is instant, whoever flipped the switch felt to apprehension to let the warmth in. I glance around, I am officially trapped. There are boxes, I wonder in these final moments if the people would give up all this stuff for the life that is to be lost. I guess I could hide, not for long though I would be found within minutes. No, I will stand my ground, I will go down like the man I wish I were. I hear the wire being pulled down, that wire seemed like a lifeline to me when I needed a place to hide. How ironic that my savior is the bridge by which the grim reaper is crossing. I can’t help it, as the seconds pass I pull it out, the instrument that caused me all the pain. I hear each step the man takes up the ladder. I load. I hear each step that brings fate closer. I aim. Then he is in full view. The gun he holds is bigger than mine I can tell his aim is more practiced, he is a hunter presumably. All this analysis doesn’t feel right with all the uncertainty looming only seconds ahead…
“Wha-“