Wax was everywhere. I wasn't sure if it was hot or wet or what but... I shuddered. But I was left feeling empty and lonely, not sure if it was or I am. But I don't like it.

You always want to know what I'm doing -- I'm always running. Always. It chases me. It hunts me. Sometimes I want to turn around and scream at it, but something always makes me turn around and keep running.