Always Lurking, Just Out of Sight

Some days he would forget why, wouldn’t think about it at all, until, his mind started connecting this idea to that, to that, to this other thing, and there he was again, fixated on something he could never forgive himself for doing.

The thing he could never put in to words.

If he did, it would no longer be the monster under the bed, something he’d see out of the corner of his eye, something he could ignore, when he was busy doing something else. It would become real, would sit down, get comfortable, and ask why he killed her.

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