Them
He was breathing loudly. His eyes were staring in the darkness; blood was beating in his head, but he had already calmed down. Below, thirty meters below the point where he was standing, he saw some strange light - these were the cars passing. He had nearly fallen down, and was now clinging to the wall. They were following him again, and it was only here that he was safe.
At last, he carefully moved forward, very slowly. Thus he got to the open window and, squinting behind his back, quietly got in. Only there he felt safe. He didn't even realize he was in somebody else's flat. The only thing that mattered was that he got away from them.
He remembered their ruthless eyes, eyes that wanted blood. "You will kill for us," them would say. "No!" he would answer, and kill... He couldn't but agree. For, when they got another victim, they left him, they went away... for some time.
He looked around. Only then he realized where he was, that he was no longer clinging to the building wall decorations with all his might. They were far, but he could already hear the sound of their breath. He could see the red dots of their eyes. They will soon be here. This week he decided to free himself from them. They are powerful, they rule the world, but he decided to try, for each time they left him alone he was terrified.
It was dark and dry in the room. He quietly crossed the room and came up to the entrance door. Everything was quiet. The flat seemed to be empty, so he decided to wait for them here. He went back into the room and sat down on the floor near the open window.
"They will never make me do it again!" he whispered furiously. His hand caught the knife he had to carry on him all the time. He wanted to throw it away, but they didn't let him. He was afraid of them. And he didn't do it. The knife was part of his body, the continuation of his right hand, his fate and verdict. He made an effort to take his hand away from it. They were already here, inside the flat. Huddling in the dark corner, he felt sweat all over his back - it was always the same, each time he met them.
They stopped near. He caught the knife again, staring at the headlight running across the ceiling. Then he leapt to his feet and jumped to them. Everything went dark before his eyes, when he plunged the knife in the soft flesh. He jumped back, quite aware of the fact that they have no flesh, that it was a woman instead of them, that she was wearing a night gown, that she was gasping for air, that she was trying to keep her life, oozing away from her, drop by drop... They conquered him again.
But it didn't matter - he was free again. For some time.
Original Author: Slayer 1998.