May 31, 2012

No. 104 - Mark's Meltdown Part 3

He didn’t stop screaming until he made it out of the house.
Mark stood in the street and tried to slow his breathing. Everything seemed so ordinary out here.
He fell to his knees on the lawn and tried to flush the impressions of what just happened out of his mind. It can’t have been real.
But there must be something wrong with him. Nobody just thinks their TV is trying to kill them. He decided that he should probably still call somebody. An ambulance, maybe, given the severity of the attack.
He felt in his pocket for a phone. It wasn’t there. He must have dropped it in the hallway. Unless it fell out onto the grass. He looked down at his legs.
They were bleeding. His pants were torn to ribbons, and there deep slashes on his thighs and shins. His hands were covered in blood, too.
He stood, and ran for the neighbor’s house. He had to find someone who would help him.
He banged on the door, ignoring the fact that it was the middle of the night. He heard the lock click, and the door opened a crack.
“Mark?” asked the man at the door. “Is that you? What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. Please help me.”
The man on the other side of the barrier peered as far around the corner as he could, checking the rest of his yard and driveway suspiciously.
“Mark, what are you doing here? You moved away three months ago.”

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