I’ve been trapped in my home for a week, and I think my wife is starting to rot.

Every door is locked and barricaded. Even the windows are nailed shut and covered so no light can come through. I’ve been sitting in total darkness every day, and only now have I decided to write this and post it wherever I find suitable.

I’ve been sitting in the darkness for so long that I’m convinced I’m not the only one in this house. They may not think I can see them, and I can’t, but I can feel them. They’re here for me just like they were here for my wife, who now lies lifeless in our bed as I sit here on the floor in the living room.

I don’t know what they are. I’m not even sure if keeping locked in here with me will even save anyone in the end. I think of this as my noble sacrifice, my way of atonement for what I’ve done. If I’ve done anything at all.

I pray every night that they finally take me like they took my wife. It’s damn near a joke that they haven’t, but maybe they’re just toying with me.

How much longer can I take this?

The house is starting to smell. My poor wife is rotting away, and as much as I’d love to bury her properly, I can’t bring myself to involve anyone else. I could escape, but they’d hear me. Besides, as I said, my goal is to keep them in here even if it means being here with them.

I’ve had sparse amounts of food and water to keep me from dying. To be honest, I’m glad I’m running out; not much longer and I’ll meet my wife again. No longer will I be trapped in this pitch-black nightmare. No longer will I have to deal with this pain.

It’s hard to bear sometimes. Moments upon moments of considering ending it early. If only I had the guts. I’m too soft; that’s why they did that to my wife. It’s why I’m here now when I should’ve been before.

It’s strange actually; I feel like a kid hiding from the boogeyman. I’m hiding under a thick blanket with a laptop in front of me, typing this out as carefully and as quietly as I can. I think I can hear one of them walking around near me. God, I feel like such a coward. Is this really worth the heat and sweat? Maybe I should just jump up and scream and let them take me out now.

One of them just sat near me. Not sure if it can tell I’m here or not. It sounds like it’s muttering something. I’m tapping the keys as softly and calmly as I can just to type this out. Another one just sat down. They’re both muttering to each other now.

It sounds like English, if that English was simultaneously being overwhelmed by the sound of a chalkboard being scratched. If they know I’m here, then they’re taking their sweet time.

What right do they have to fuck with me?

I feel tired all of a sudden. Figures. I’ve tried to keep rest to a minimum so they wouldn’t hear me snore. I’m tired, but damnit, if my fear wasn’t the only thing keeping me awake, then I’d just lie down and die.

I don’t mean to mention death so much. I’m trying to be optimistic, but honestly I don’t see hope at the end of it all.

How much longer must I endure?

I fell asleep…

I can’t hear the usual noises of movement around the house. I don’t believe they’d just stop; something’s wrong.

The lights…

The lights are on…

I can see it through the blanket…

I’m going to uncover myself now; if I don’t continue writing, then just know this conversation between you and me was the most important thing for me. It’s been forever since I’ve felt like I could just talk. If you are reading this, thank you, truly.

I don’t know what awaits me when I uncover this blanket; I’ll update if I can.