It.

I woke up to find it standing by my bedside.

I remember when I had first met it. I used to live somewhere else, the bed I used to sleep in was different and I was much younger, I was somebody else back then. Over the years I have met it again and again, it has never changed... not one bit. Even though it is to me what a butcher's knife is to a hen, I thought I should at-least make small talk with it. Ask it how it has been. After-all I've known it for so long.

Still groggy from sleep, I was about to say something in the form of a pleasant greeting when I saw its face. That face filled with hate, devoid of any features. Its body a swirling, crawling mass of everything I hate... Everything I fear. My stomach gave an unpleasant lurch.

"What is it that you want this time?" I whispered.

"I do not want anything. I wish to tell you that something is wrong."

"What?" I blurted out. My pulse was racing like a fucking racehorse.

"You know that I am not at the liberty to tell you the 'what' and the 'how'," it paused, drew in a deep breath, the sound of it like the screech of a sand paper on a black-board, "All I can say is that you are in for a lot of pain in the near future."

"Please. Please, tell me. Just this once." I begged.

"No. You hate me. You fear me. I'll tell you this today, that I am you. A part of you. I am your intuition. I am your conscience. You know all the answers, if only you can open your eyes."

"Motherfucker."

With a cackle of hate-filled laughter, it was gone.