Fear likes to to take the easy way out.

He scurries away from the foreign and dangerous. He jumps at every startling sight, every eerie sound. The door creaks ajar with a haunting moan. Branches claw at his bedroom window like grotesque witch fingers. Dolls wear the same stare, like they're plotting something. Monstrosities lurk in every corner, concealed in forbidding shadows. Flashes of hazards send shudders racing up his spine.

And worst of all:

The guy that sits beside him in his math lecture had borrowed a pencil and he returned it back while sick.

Gasp.

Oh, the horror!

The germs could spread to him. His pencil has been tainted now. He would burn it, but he doesn't want to risk a fire hazard.

He is Fear and he will scream louder than his ten-year-old sister.