There is something hidden in the shadows of my room, something that may or may not be a part of my, our, this world. It’s there yet I can not see it: it frightens me, it makes me wish to hide under my blanket as I have a torch lit in my sweaty palms. I would seek my parents' side if I dared to step on to the floor, but I am afraid what is underneath my bed. Paranoia could be the cause of my fear yet it would make sense, anything can make sense -if you’re afraid enough- in my situation my paranoia got to the best of me.

If only I didn’t sneak a look of that movie, that cursed movie that my mother had forbidden me to watch; ‘Your too young to be watching such movies like this’ she had said, ‘When you’re older then maybe you can watch it with me’ she had spoken, saying I was too young to watch that movie-if only I had listened to her.
A flash of something moving had me looking around my room -expecting the end to fall upon me- but I did not see the creature, the thing from the film, instead I saw eyes, MY eyes, stare upon myself through the mirrors in my room. Tears swelled from my sockets, the fear that haunted me was shown in my eyes-like I was wearing it on my sleeves. I looked down upon my clenched fists that held my blanket, I stood up from my bed, expecting the worst yet I was also expecting myself to wake up as soon as something grabs my ankle. I took steady, cautious steps, I was looking at my feet like I was in a trance; only for my mind to clear just a bit to look up, to see where I was heading, only to trip from nothing.

I fell -what would seem like at an agonizing pace- and as I laid on the ground I had clenched my lids shut and my head turned away from the bed. I mustered up the courage, at least the so little remains of it, to turn my head towards the left, and pried my eyelids open. I was met with a void -the void that had seeped out from under my bed. A chill traveled up my spine: something was there, something was watching me, something terrifying. My heart pounded in my chest, it’s beat was becoming faster and faster and faster. I tried calming my frantic heart.

I breathed out then I inhaled -tried to, I couldn’t breathe, I felt an emotion that weighed down on my chest. My heart pounded under my chest, I stood up.

Run!

I need to run!

I pulled myself up, trying to run towards safety, yet something was dragging me back.


“What do you want!?” I cried out my confusion, in fright. The fear made me unable to think, I should know from movies: that asking this question would never be answered -unless my end is to come- and I should have used the time to escape.

A weight appeared on my back -the pressure agonizing- it appeared as if gravity turned against me. The pressure kept increasing, I tried to lift my head, I teared up; I haven’t even moved a bit, it was almost as if I hadn’t attempted to in the first place.

“S-......p” I was tempted to speak, yet I struggled to vocalize the word stop, almost as if I never knew how to use my vocal cords in the first place.

I could no longer breathe; black spots edged into my vision.
I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I tasted iron in my mouth.

My last thought, if I never watched that movie I would have been sleeping, would I have been in this situation anyway? Would I have suffered this as I slept, sleeping through this torture? Am I being punished for disobeying my mother?

If…..
~
Police tape surrounded a room of a girl, the scene had already been swept and analyzed. A woman and an old detective stood outside the room.

“Poor girl, she was only twelve, young yet died in her sleep” the woman said.

The Detective stood in silence, then he spoke “She died of a heart attack, no one in her family had herity or history of family known to have a heart disease, her heart was healthy, why did she die?”

Sobs poured out from the living room into the hallway. It was the mother-she was the one that had found her daughter. She had walked into the room, her daughter still in bed, she should’ve woken up to get ready for school-only to realize she was not waking up.

“Where’s the father?” asked the woman, pity in her voice, “their daughter died, did he get the memo?”
The Detective straightened up, “No father, took off, probably with a mistress or did something illegal.”

As they were walking out, the woman looked at the mother “so she has no one?”

The End