Paranoia

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I woke up with a start, shivering under the covers of my bed. It happened again and the feeling was same as always. I wish I could figure out what has been causing this recurring nightmare. The dream started out as usual, the hooded figure chasing me, tripping and falling on the pothole, the figure just about to lift their hood, then I wake up. But this time there was a slight difference that made the whole thing more eerie. Instead of only seeing the path of concrete ahead of me, I had the ability to look around and gather all there was to see. It was nothing much, just what seemed to be rows and rows of buildings. No streetlights to be seen causing the whole area to be shrouded in shadows. I wracked my brain for more details, but nothing. Except for one detail which was the most prominent of this new change. Between every building, there were a pair of golden yellow eyes staring at me. Just bringing it up made chills go down my spine. The way those eyes looked at me gave me an instinctual urge to get as far away from them as possible. Figuring it was best to get on with my day, I flop out of the comfort of my bed. I begin to walk forward but then...

Crash!

Without noticing, my left foot had gotten wrapped up on a white fluffy blanket from my bed. The blanket made me trip and now I find myself flat on the cold floor.

"What a great start to this morning. I'm sure that I'm gonna have a great day." I grumble in a sarcastic manner. Pushing myself to my feet, I brush myself off and make it through the bedroom door. I can hear the bustle of my family down below. Scanning around my bedroom, I feel prickles of fear. Nothing really seems out of place though. My window overlooking my neighborhood is tightly shut, no items on my desk missing — except for the pocket knife I still have yet to take out of my bag — and nothing out of place on my dresser. Except for the fact that my underwear drawer looked to be not as tightly shut as I thought. Chalking it up to paranoia, I exit my room. On the staircase my mom dashed past me, heading into her room without any explanation. I turned and watched as she shut the door as hard as she could without actually slamming it. My head tilted to the side in confusion. As far as I know, she's never really acted like this. Mom has always been soft spoken and relaxed, never truly in a rush. She had always been near my dad's side, letting him lead the way. Making my way to the kitchen, I spotted my dad. He was leaning on the counter with both his hands, seemingly stressed.

"Dad, is everything okay?" I ask, rubbing my eyes absentmindedly.

He looks up at me blankly, "everything is just fine kiddo, no need to worry."

"If everything is fine then what's up with mom?" I tilt my head. My father still seems a little groggy whereas I'm wide awake from the nightmare. His hair was ruffled and not neatly set like usual. The whole family seemed disgruntled this morning for a reason they had yet to reveal to me. I sigh, "there's obviously something going on. I'm not the gullible toddler I used to be."

This got a small chuckle from my father. I could tell his whole heart wasn't in it, but it still lightened the mood a little. His face grew solemn again soon after though.

"A cat. While your mother was taking out the trash this morning when she saw a dead street cat. It was pretty beat up and bloody so she freaked out." Dad pursed his lips, clearly uncomfortable with having to be the bringer of bad news.

It took a moment to process all the information. Before fully forming a sentence my mom comes down, seemingly a bit more calm but still unnerved.

Mom states matter of factly, "Andrew, I think we should call the police. That poor thing is definitely a victim to some cruel idiot. There's no way that something natural happened to it." It's visible that she feels very passionately about this, but her words are very levelheaded.

Dad shook his head, "I understand where you're coming from, but it's completely unreasonable. It was probably two street cats quarreling over territory that ended kind of rough for our poor fuzzball. This isn't the first time something similar has happened in the neighborhood, you know?" He patted her shoulder comfortingly.

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