Eyes

The eyes that stalk you are here, in your garden.

Again.

The eyes that haunt you, scare you, watch you, hunt you. They may try to lurk in the shadows, but you can still see them.

You are trying your hardest to avoid eye contact, just as you always do, but for whatever reason, today is the day that you can not control yourself.

You bore right into those eyes.

Staring.

Unmoving.

Before you can process what is happening, the eyes move, and a hand is covering your mouth.

The hand chokes you, making you splutter.

You find it hard to breathe, and as panic sets in, it becomes even more difficult. 

You gag and the hand moves for a second; you inhale sweet, gorgeous air, and feel a small ounce of hope within you.

Then the hand reaches for your throat.

"No, please, no!" you manage to say before the grip tightens and you lose the ability to speak. Tears squeeze out of your eyes and trickle down your cheeks as you choke and flail, desperately trying to remove the hand from your neck.

All you can think is that you don't want to die, you don't want to die, you don't want to-