Please note: this is fiction.

I look down the stairs and gulp. Why do they suddenly look so menacing? I’ve walked them a thousand times on my daily commute, they didn’t look scary then, why now? Just because it’s night time and not day time? Just because I was misbehaved and went out for a drink with co-workers instead of staying home like a good girl?

“Don’t fall,” whispers a voice just as I’m about to take a step. Then an image pops into my head of my body rolling down the stairs. I gulp again and stumble a few steps back. Why oh why must these thoughts come into my head? I bet other people don’t have to deal with these horrible thoughts, why am I dealing with them?

I approach the stairs again and blow out a breath. I’ve done it a million times. It’s easy-peasy, just descend the stairs, swipe my pass, get on the subway, and will be home in no time.

Instead of charging down the stairs as I always do when I go to work, I descend the stairs slowly, holding tight to the handrail, making sure I don’t miss a step and fall. After what seems like an eternity, I arrive at the subway entrance. I made it down the stairs. Nothing bad will happen to you. Nothing bad shall happen to you.

MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Photo Challenge