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I was in school. College perhaps, because I recall being able to call the teacher "professor." I think, even, that the teacher in question was one of my teachers from college. Liz, we called her. Her first name was Elizabeth. I can't even remember what her formal 'teacher name' would be. She was always just Liz. My class and I had a project to do. A last-minute, end of the year project that was thrown together due to poor planning on the professor's part. I had to go to a particularly large classroom - literally quite grandiose, with stacks of bookshelves for some reason lining the walls - and I had to put on a performance for a class of younger students. We were tasked with performing Star Wars - just the first movie, Darth Vader and all that noise. But we had no costumes. Nor did we have any preparation. We had to do it right then. The only costumes we could find were (and this may be dangerous to say around these parts)... animal costumes. Fur suits. All I can remember was being mad. That wasn't what I signed up for. I was failed by the educational system. Failed by my professor. I remember yelling about it, making a scene, in front of the audience, about how much of an utter disgrace the whole thing was.

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A thing was watching me and if it watched me long enough it would kill me in a slow and painful death. It watched my mum and killed her. I saw the thing watching me and so I closed the curtains so it couldn't see me but it was still there. It was then still outside but not looking at me so i ran outside and killed it by hitting it jumping on it and then slicing its neck with a knife. I then put what seemed like a head with lots of hair in a bag and put it in the bin and then went inside. I then got told by my master that I had to do this once a year to survive.

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