In the night, I hear whispers in the shadows. I toss and turn, but the whispers never stop. I fear the whispers shall become something else. Last night, I felt cold hands touching my forehead and hair. Playing with it, almost inspecting it. But it didn’t start just last night. Another night, I saw eyes observing me from the darkness. Eyes that were human. Bloodshot eyes, filled with anticipation and a certain hunger. They were not grouped in pairs either. They shifted, moved around, never having one spot. I don’t know what I shall do tonight. I hope they’re not hungry.