People say that when it’s you who’s the next target, you can hear her. Feel her presence as she crawls up your spine and wraps her Tantalus around your pretty throat. You smell her foul breath as she breathes down your eyelids. She leaves wind chimes chiming and you know the next thing will be you, not chiming but full on bellowing. You can try to escape her all you want but sometimes, it’s just not enough anymore. Nothing is enough to make her go away. Because those sometimes are also the times when the invitation was sent hand engraved by yourself, to her, to come pay a visit. Even though your stomach is burning up, you somehow welcome the touch that you know is made up of embers. And even though bile is curdling in your mouth, you welcome the choke. Because you know she’s nearby. You feel her coming at you and even though some part of you is still rooting for the salvation you’ve always claimed as your birthright, you are acutely and rather obsessively aware of that other part which is rooting for her to come over already.
That’s when you start counting the stages.
My countdown starts tonight.