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Description
I was calling your name.

My whole existence revolved around that one name, that name that always appeared to be readied inside my throat, ready to escape my lips at any moment.

Whether questioningly, or with exasperation, admiration or with frustration; your name was the one that was always there.

It was your name that I heard the most.

People talk about you a lot.

It's your other names that I hear as well.

Freak.
Creep.
Simply, Him.

It was the tones with which they say it, the slight hesitations or intonation of their voices as they say your syllables. It brings with it their feelings towards you.

But now I am screaming your name with pure and total fear.

It is omniscient, consuming, terrifying to hear. It shakes my core and being, my morals are shaken and spiralling and I feel anger building in my veins in foresight of what could've happened.

What, surely, can't have happened?

Couldn't possibly.

I am falling to my knees involuntarily. Meaning wavers and slips from your name, it becomes empty as I scream it. Shouting it at the top of my lungs.

It echoed in my head. I hardly knew if I was actually saying it out loud.

But now your name is nothing; it is empty and hollow, as silent as your reply. The words you could've spoken hang threateningly, pressuring me towards the tiled floor.

And my lips are moving but I don't know if any sound is coming out. Your name repeats inside my head; softer now.

The hysteria already threatens me, and I am consumed by the foreseeable aftermath, and now is the time for concern, for worry.

And the cold tiles register on my left temple as I must have landed on my side. And the world is blurry and unreal behind the echoes of your name. My existence; my life.

Sherlock

Description
I was calling your name.

My whole existence revolved around that one name, that name that always appeared to be readied inside my throat, ready to escape my lips at any moment.

Whether questioningly, or with exasperation, admiration or with frustration; your name was the one that was always there.

It was your name that I heard the most.

People talk about you a lot.

It's your other names that I hear as well.

Freak.
Creep.
Simply, Him.

It was the tones with which they say it, the slight hesitations or intonation of their voices as they say your syllables. It brings with it their feelings towards you.

But now I am screaming your name with pure and total fear.

It is omniscient, consuming, terrifying to hear. It shakes my core and being, my morals are shaken and spiralling and I feel anger building in my veins in foresight of what could've happened.

What, surely, can't have happened?

Couldn't possibly.

I am falling to my knees involuntarily. Meaning wavers and slips from your name, it becomes empty as I scream it. Shouting it at the top of my lungs.

It echoed in my head. I hardly knew if I was actually saying it out loud.

But now your name is nothing; it is empty and hollow, as silent as your reply. The words you could've spoken hang threateningly, pressuring me towards the tiled floor.

And my lips are moving but I don't know if any sound is coming out. Your name repeats inside my head; softer now.

The hysteria already threatens me, and I am consumed by the foreseeable aftermath, and now is the time for concern, for worry.

And the cold tiles register on my left temple as I must have landed on my side. And the world is blurry and unreal behind the echoes of your name. My existence; my life.

Sherlock