Michael

Donavan woke up with terror, he knew what had happened and his blood went cold, the sound of the glass shattering downstairs had done the same to his nerves. He had come in. After weeks of watching and stalking him, that creep had finally decided to break in. The window provided him with the perfect entrance.

Donavan laid there in bed, in the blackness only illuminated by the small amount of clear light that the moon provided through the space between the curtains. He listened for the creep, listened to see if he was inside, secretly praying that everything would be silent. The terrifying cracking of glass under his feet confirmed his worst fear, the creep had finally made his way into Donavan's home.

With this crushing realization, Donavan, now shaking, grabbed his steel baseball bat and crept downstairs deeper into the darkness, determined to confront this creep once and for all, secretly hoping though, that he would run away when he saw him as he normally did. Donavan stood at the bottom of the stairs, listening. At first, all he heard was the cracking of glass under the creep’s feet, then, for the first time, Donavan heard the creep, breathing heavily, mumbling “Donavan” under his breath. The creep was gradually getting closer to Donavan.

Now out of the kitchen, the creep was finally off of the glass. he walked almost silently now, strangely more agile than it looked, especially considering how clumsily it ran away. Donavan realized what he had to do. He grasped his weapon tighter and... Froze, unable to move. He knew he needed to attack it but he just couldn't. The creep was still human. The creep was in the living room now and edging closer by the second, yet Donavan was still too terrified to move, this creep became the embodiment of terror to Donavan.

Donavan stood at the bottom of the stairs, shaking. He heard the creep getting ever closer, the sickening sound of mumbling amplified by the almost pitch darkness. The creep was nearly at Donavan, he had one chance to fight him and he wasn't going to waste it.

The creep stepped into the doorway to the stairs, Donavan was hidden just to the left. He tripped and delivered a weak blow; the creep quickly blocked the attack. The creep's block caused recoil, staggering himself back, then stopped and looked at Donavan, his wild eyes staring into Donavan’s soul. Donavan’s eyes grew wide at who he was looking at, it was Michael: Donavan’s oldest friend. Donavan’s heart shattered as flashbacks of times that Michael and him shared in their childhood. However, Donavan also started to feel a deep fear of Michael unlike anything he had ever experienced. Michael smiled and immediately jolted towards Donavan, drawing his blade out in the process.

Michael punched Donavan in the gut, winding him. Donavan fell to the floor in pain, unable to breathe. Donavan rolled onto his back and scuffled up against the wall just behind him. Michael watched him until he reached the wall, at which point it walked towards him and looked down at Donavan as if it were judging him, lying there, helpless. Donavan rose up, bat in hand, gripping it tighter and tighter, then with all the strength he had left, Donavan ran towards Michael ready to strike him with the bat. But as soon as Donavan got close enough, Michael vanished. Donavan then noticed something breathing behind him and quickly turned as Michael heavily kicked Donavan’s side, making him collapse to the floor. Michael then laughed as he forcefully stamped on his chest, snapping the ribs. Tears began to stream from Donavan’s eyes, the pain so intense Donavan thought he was going to vomit.

Donavan, now incapacitated, had nowhere to go and no way to fight and he knew he was done for. Michael, looking down with a smile, placed his blade on Donavan's stomach, pressing down, ripping into his flesh with his rusted blade. With Michael’s blade now fully through his stomach, Donavan started to cough blood. Tears streamed down his face. He passed out from the pain, and then died. Michael loomed over what was by now his bloody corpse. Michael descended his empty hand toward Donavan and then tore away a bloody piece of flesh from Donavan’s chin, dislocating one side of his jaw in the process. Michael continued to tear and eviscerate Donavan's corpse until everything Michael could eat had been devoured. Michael then left... Calmly, silently, with pure madness in his heart. Michael left, the same way he came in, through the window, saying one last thing, “Goodbye… Donavan.”