She sat at her desk. She did nothing but sit there.
But she felt them. She felt their eyes everywhere she went.
Every door closed. Every window, closed blinds.
I feel them. They watch me always.
The daemons crept unseen around her, but they knew she felt them. They watched a tear slip down her face.
They saw what was in her mind. The ones watching her seemed to pale in comparison to the ones they saw in her head.
They watchers saw the scenarios the others implanted in her head. The death scenes.
They were her death scenes. The ones that creep in on her every move.
Go get the mail. A car flew off the street and hit her.
Open the letters. Her letter opener flew out of her hands and stabbed her in her chest.
Take a bath. The water is over her head and running through her body; drowning her.
Shave your legs. She breaks the razor and uses the blade to cut her arms.
She stood up. It surprised her watchers.
She felt them staring. She felt them watching.
She walked over to her bed and lay down. She put her head on her pillow and closed her eyes.
She felt them watching. And she didn't care.
Her eyes were closed. And they'd never open again.