I don't wanna die. It's not a controversial statement, but it needs to be said. I'm the last one here. The snowstorm can be heard from inside the security room. The hum of the monitors fills the room as the last worker of the warehouse. Everyone who has left this damn warehouse has been butchered. There isn't a living soul left in this town except for it roaming outside. I don't know what it looks like or how it goes about killing people, but I remember the bodies before they were buried in the snow.

  It's painting this town with a fresh coat of red. All I know about it are the prints it leaves in the snow. They have heavy, enormous feet by the indention. They are easily distinguishable in the snow, carrying a faded red hue.

  My car sits in the warehouse garage, but the streets are filled with cars. I can still see the red stains on the seats or what's left of the driver. I remember seeing MRS Sanchez's car speed down the road from the cameras. I wonder if she made it. She had a tire blown out and blood dripping down her face. The storm has only grown heavier since then. I hope she made it.

  The weather keeps me immobile. I am the last one here. Just me, the soft glow from the wall of monitors I sit in front of, and a damn too jolly voice filling this icebox. I play a small radio, hoping it will drown out everything my mind is forcing me to think. He is acting as if everything is fine. I bet the DJ is far from here.

  RADIO DJ

  The snow isn't stopping any time soon.

  As we all dream of summer and sunburns,

  the polar vortex break guarantees at least a week of snowstorms.

  I hope everyone stocked up on some supplies cause

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  you're going to be stuck inside for quite some time.

  Well, now let's play some sweet tunes wh-

  I smash the radio on the wall, and bits of plastic and circuit board are flung around the room. A week- I won't make it a week!

  I shouldn't have thrown the radio at the wall. The scattered pieces remind me of how short-sighted that was, and now I have no music. The roads aren't the reason I'm trapped here. I mean, the only reason. If I were born under a lucky star, that would be the case, but no. I watch it from one of the monitors plastering the wall in front of me in the security room.

  I am cut off from the outside world right now. Radio silent, my fault. The internet was cut, and there was no signal. I am alone in the warehouse, with just the sound of rats rushing in here for warmth, escaping the tormenting wind outside. Maybe they can keep me company? Either way, it knows I'm alone. I bet this monster tasted the marrow of every person in this town- if it eats us, that is.

  The way the bodies were thrown about. None were eaten, and so many were killed at the same time. I don't think it's for survival; it's playing with us. Maybe I'm giving it too much credit. I would rather overestimate it; that way, I won't end up with a pound of snow covering my corpse outside.

  My eyes scurry from monitor to monitor, trying to glimpse where it is. I know it's still out there, just like it knows I'm still in here. Red-stained snow prints circling the building slowly get covered by the new snowfall. Has it stopped casing the place? Maybe now is my chance? This can be my only chance to leave this damn tin coffin. I can't wait here, that's what it wants.

  I make it to my car parked inside. The metal garage door separating me and the outside world rattles from the strong winds. My hand grips the steering wheel. I turn the keys, and the engine coughs as it tries to brush off the frost forming on it. Now is my chance. I would rather die in the snow than be toyed with in here. My finger hovers over the remote to the garage door, ready to press the button and open the only thing separating me and the snowstorm.

  Something heavy smashed on the garage door. My eyes look up from the remote. With each bang echoing in the room, a dent the size of a pumpkin forms on the door. This continues until I turn off the engine. I can't leave, not yet. This is what it's waiting for. My car won't make it far with how it is, and that's when I lose my life. Either when my car skids off the road or when it finally lets inside and tears this door off as quickly as it will tear me in half.

  I need to stay inside.