Rather, it sleeps in people. PANIC. This dormant beast. It comes in all forms and loves to live in people. Fear is a parasite. Sometimes terror is a slow predator, with tentacles and slowly climbs from the pit of your stomach and grips your throat.
Sometimes it will attack like a feral animal trying to claw it's way out of your body.
You always want to tip toe... you're always cautious as to not wake it... because it lives and grows off memories and reminders of things that almost broke you. Something stirs... you looked or heard something and the monster is ALIVE.
It's like some sick symbiosis... trauma and your body... it's almost as if one can't exist without the other but I can't think of anywhere that the afflicted benefit.
PTSD, the knot in my stomach... the grip on my throat... the dementor that sleeps in my head.
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