Tick

I've been up all night. Scared... Yea, I'll admit it. Terrified. Theres been this "Tick" in the back of my head all night making me paranoid.. I've got my back to the corner. I've got my sawn-off. I'm talking to you guys now through my phone. Light's all through the house are on and every tv is going.

Nothing's coming. Monster's don't exist. No one breaks into houses here. There's no scary sounds. No tapping on my windows, or shaking closet doors. The dog is sound asleep, as jumpy as he is, if anything was coming he'd be flipping shit.

Nothing is happening.

So why am I scared? Well, what causes fear? Fear of burglars, fear of monsters, ghosts and galactic travelers? It's our weakness. Inability to protect ourselves. Well what do you do when you CAN protect yourself, but what protects you from all those, can't protect you from that... "Tick"?

That thing no gun can stop. That thing no logic or reason can deny. That thing you can't buy away, or count to ten and make disappear. It. That unstoppable thing. That Tick. That god damn Tick. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. I'm sitting here, of course, staring at my clock. Time. Time time time never enough time, too much time, time moving too fast, too slow, you can't stop time but this. This fucking... Clock. It's mocking me. Has been for minutes... No... Hours. Days. Weeks, months, seasons, years, Two... God damn decades...

But there's something wrong... I shot that clock hours ago. The only time piece in my house.

I've turned up all my TVs. All my stereos, my headphones are blaring.

But it's still there... That god damn tick...

...Where did I say again.. The back of my head?