I can’t tell the difference anymore Dreams and reality tore I can’t tell the different between fake and real Not in the ghastly night or when the sky is teal

I struggle to connect all the dots To finish the puzzle without missing spots But I have lost the last few blocks The empty parts of the picture mocks

I see monsters In figures on posters I quit my job Because of the haunted mobs

I don’t know how to fix it It’s like an unremoveable oven mitt It seems so easy to fix With just the count of six

But I can’t pull the fabric off When can I get out of this deep trough?

He’s infront of me.

There’s a knife in his hand. It glints like it’s real.

Not real not real not real

There’s a sliver of blood on his neck from the blade. Then deeper. Deeper, deeper, deeper.

Blood everywhere. Blood on the floor. Blood in his hair. Blood on his hands. Blood on his clothes.

Blood in my hair. Blood on my hands. Blood on my clothes.

Bloodbloodblood, so much b l o o d.

There are tears in my eyes. Sunlight streaming through the window. He’s behind me.

Breathing.

In,

Out,

In,

Out.

Alive. Breathing.

He brushes the hair out of my face, “We’re you crying?”

“No,” Conceal, conceal, conceal, “I’m fine.”

I’m acting.

I’m concealing.

I’m f i n e.

(Author’s Note: Alright! I found a prompt that goes with it! So for ya’ll who wanted to see my cringe first attempt at a novel, here it is! Btw, this is straight from the unedited draft, so it’s the same as when I wrote it a year ago 💀)

Is it a Dream?

Squeal! Squeal!

Ballari breathed in ragged breaths as she hid behind the crowds of farrows, each tinier than the rest. She hugged herself tightly, trying to bury herself beneath the piglets who squealed loudly as though they knew who was coming. She knew who was coming.

This nightmare had happened many times before, each time in the same location, a slaughterhouse, a place of despair. The crimson red blood of pigs stained its old, rusty walls as if it was dried paint. Each wall had thousands of pig heads on a mount, a reminder that there is no escape and that your time will come. The ceiling was made of bars, allowing light to come through as streams of darkness. Ballari felt chills along her body as the door beyond rows of pigs opened, a stick thin man entered with an ax covered with dry blood.

Pig blood

He's here.

Ballari tried to think of nothing, and nothing she thought of, it was as easy as pulling a weed; the only thing in her head was the smell of urine and other cursed substances of the terrible slaughter house. Squeal! SQUEAL! The piglets were as frightened as she, their squeals were high pitched and their beady eyes wide. They bundled up, trying to calm down, but failed to do so. She heard the first terrifying shriek as sprays of blood flew into the air. And then another. And then another.

Ballari scooted away from the sound of dying pigs, moving her crouched figure as fast as she could with the rows of pigs trampling her arms and legs as they ran from the danger. The shrieks became louder and louder, urging Ballari to go faster.

Hurry, Ballari!

Blood covered her bare feet and soaked dry in the lower half of her dress, spreading across the delicate white cloth like an artist menacingly stroking red paint on a canvas slowly. _ _ Hurry!

A shadow covered her body with its presence. The poor girl shrieked louder than any pig had as the man stomped on her back over and over again, pushing her in the mushy dirt floor as hard as he could.

HURRY!

But she couldn't, it was too late. Ballari felt the sharp edge of the ax against the back of her neck, her eyes widening as the cold metal sent waves of pain through her veins. Ballari screamed one last time as she heard the ax swoosh high in the air then come down with a force of a thousand strong men as it cleanly sliced off her head, disconnecting it from the rest of her body.

BALLARI!

CHAPTER 1

Ballari woke up to a shrill, piercing shriek. One that should have alarmed her greatly, but she already knew why and what had happened; it happened every morning.

The poor girl pulled herself off the bed, still shaky from the nightmare of the night before, and ran a dark, oak brown hand through her tangled, curly hair. She would have to brush it out later, when her chores were complete.

The shriek sounded again, this time less human than before, though the creatures it came from went at all human.

Ballari finally got out of the room, dressed in a pale colored, knee-high dress, and went outside barefoot, grabbing a bucket of slum from the porch as she continued on.

Several more shrieks called on and on, growing more impatient.

Ballari opened the gate to the pig pen and was surrounded by hungry, and very angry, pigs. All of these pigs were large, fat and fierce looking, though Ballari knew differently. They had manners, they just forgot them from time to time.

“Alright everyone," Ballari raised both of her hands, signalling them to calm down. It took them a minute, but soon all of the pigs were silent.

Ballari put one hand in the slum, and took a handful of the disgusting mess out. "I have enough food for everyone, okay. I just need you all to cooperate for me."

She heard a few replying snorts answering back, then they started backing away from her, giving her space to walk around. Ballari gave them a small thank you and gave the food in her hand to the nearest pig. Then, after the pig finished, she patted the pig on the head and dipped her hand in the bucket again, redoing the cycle all over again. Ballari liked to personally give out the food rather than putting it in the trough; she liked connecting with the pigs.

After a few minutes, all the pigs, hog and swine alike, were full and joyous; they wagged their tails in delight and sniffed Ballari's feet in appreciation.

Ballari would have loved to stay and play with them, but she had other work to do before MISS came home. The girl shivered from her head to her toes as she remembered the last time MISS was angry.

The woman had came home, already angered by the events that had happened at work, welcomed with dirt on the floor, the wall, the table, the kitchen, everywhere, even her beloved Vivorian couch! MISS had found Ballari hiding in the closet immediately, as that was where the girl always hid whenever she knew she had done something wrong, grabbed her by the arm and then asked why, what, and when this had all occurred. The highlights of questioning.

The girl had answered meekly, "The little piggies were bored, so, around lunch time, I brought them in to play with me..."

Ballari still had a scar from that evil wooden spoon.

Though Ballari was near 17 years of age now and had never gotten another beating since that time, she was more than sure that MISS would still punish her with that wretched spoon if she did something wrong, so away from the happy little pigs and full steam ahead to endless scrubbing and dusting, like normal. Ballari was just about to open the door when she saw something in the corner of her eye.

Ballari turned around out of curiosity and saw a boy standing right outside the gate to her house.

He was around her age maybe, though honestly Ballari hadn't seen many other people while growing up, so she really didn't know. The boy had snow white hair covering a pair of forest green eyes, narrowed down as though in concentration, and pale lips in a thin line. Ballari felt her heart race for no reason at all.

They stayed that way for a few seconds, the strange boy staring at the now shocked and confused girl that still had one hand on the door knob. Ballari was confused, why wasn't he speaking?

Unless.…

"Um... can you speak?" Ballari said, her voice just above a whisper.

She was afraid that the boy didn't hear her, because he didn't answer immediately, but, after a few moments, he nodded.

That made no sense, if he could speak, why didn't he say anything. Why did he just nod his head? Then, Ballari thought that he was just nervous, that would explain why he was staring at her like that. So she gathered all her wits and strength, which wasn't much for a young woman her age, and made her way to the gate.

Then she was right near the boy, the gate separating them both by only a few inches. This close, Ballari realized that the boy was much caller than herself and that he smelled like…pine needles.

Ballari suddenly felt quite nice and every fear that she had about this boy was washed away, it was the first time in her life that she felt free.

“So,” Ballari looked straight into his eyes and he looked into hers, “What is your name?”

The boy cocked his head to the side, as if trying to remember, and then looked back into her eyes, face still ever so neutral.

“Alistarie, my name’s Alistarie. Would you like to be friends?”

(If there’s anything you want me to explain, just ask. I made so many google docs for research last year 🙂‍↕️ Also, if you didn’t know, chapter 2 already is on if you want to read more cringe; Anyways, Thanks for reading, and if you continue, I will pray for your mental health. This stuff gets so cringy it hurts.)

It all started in the corner of my bedroom. The corner I would always find myself gazing at as I drifted off to sleep. It was gradual. One morning, after a particularly gruesome graveyard shift, I tumbled into bed excited for the oblivion of sleep to take me when I noticed a spot of a depthless black staining the apex of where wall met ceiling. As I stared at this speck of darkness, my very being recoiled, as if every animalistic instinct was begging me to get as far away as possible. But I was stuck. I could not move a single limb, I couldn't even blink. Sweat soaked the sheets as I began to tremble from within, as if my soul was begging to be released from its flesh and bone prison. I do not know how much time passed before I woke up. I didn't even remember falling asleep. The darkness was gone. But still, the terror remained and my whole body ached.

The second time the darkness visited, a week had passed. It was bigger, now the size of my palm. The despair I felt the first night felt minuscule compared to the paralyzing perturbation I felt in that moment. The more I was forced to look at it, the more sure I was that I could hear the distant torment of hellfire. Agonizing pleas that ripped through the fabric of the universe and condensed in that godforsaken corner of my bedroom. Sleep was no longer possible. I spent the night staring at the black hole, in its unfathomable shade of darkness. When the sun rose and daylight bled into the room, the darkness burned with it.

I quit my job. I have been suffering sleepless nights for six months now. The darkness' appearance was sporadic, each time growing bigger and more miserable. I was certain that the next time it appeared, it would swallow me whole. I tried therapy. Was prescribed antipsychotics. Nothing changed. I tried praying. Nothing changed. I tried shamans and supernatural experts, and relentlessly, nothing changed.

Tonight I am sure will be my last. The last time I was visited, the darkness was a deep gash, swallowing the entire corner of the room in its shadow. My hands grip my bathroom sink as I swallow my last pill. I cannot recognize my reflection. My complexion is pallor, my cheeks gaunt, my hair thinned and dull. And my eyes. It is as if the darkness had seeped into them, overtaking almost the entire iris. I trudge into my bedroom, looking over at the corner. Nothing but pale plaster. Sitting on my bed, I do not bother lying down. With my back against the headboard, I wait silently. As color drains from the sky and the moon blankets the night in its pale glow, I wait. The alarmclock next to my bed ticks 3:17 in the morning. Still, nothing. My eyes grow unbearably heavy, as do my limbs. I cannot not stay awake a moment longer. But as my head bobs up and down, a racking scream splits my head. I flinch, my eyes slowly trailing to the corner.

My stomach bottoms out and tears sting my eyes. The darkness is here. This time, it suffocates the entire room, my bed the only thing left untouched. Paralyzed, I wait. This is my end. It has to be. The darkness slowly begins to writhe, as if alive. Synchronized howls of infinite torment fill my head until I am sure it will split in two. My whole body trembles and I feel as if my blood is forcing its way to the surface of my skin. The wails — are those coming from me or the darkness? I cannot tell. I feel as if my body is collapsing and I can feel my lips part as the darkness wraps around my ankles. A searing, white-hot agony splits through me, and my jaw unhinges. The darkness slithers up my body, caressing my cheeks, my lips.

The darkness plunges into my open mouth and I cease to exist.

Zimon gasped as he sat bolt upright, clawing, scratching at his skin. His breath came in gasps and he sobbed, trying to gain some kind of control. Black spots danced in his vision and his stomach heaved. He wrapped his arms around himself, shaking, trembling feeling as if he was falling apart. His skin felt as if he was on fire, he was burning, each breath singeing his lungs. Zimon groped for the glass of water on the nightstand, fumbling until his fingers closed around it. As he managed to sip at the lukewarm, day-old water, he slowly calmed. He forced himself to uncurl and place his feet on the cold tile of the floor, he drank in the feel of it, the cold soothing his pain. He furiously scrubbed tears off of his cheeks, angry at his mind for betraying him and his body for reacting so violently. He forced himself to go about his normal morning routine, even managing to choke down a piece of dry bread. Forcing a smile on his face, Zimon walked out the door. Not trusting himself to drive, his hands were still shaking too badly, so he chose to walk to the bus stop. He tapped out a message to Kai letting him know before letting his mind wander. Before long he reached the bus stop. Zimon then checked the time and saw he still had a half hour or so before the bus would arrive. He sat exhaustedly and closed his eyes, he was too tense and keyed up to truly rest but he still tried. Letting his mind drift, Zimon lost track of time. His eyes flew open and he jumped, startled, sometime later. “Kai?!” He exclaimed, his breath coming in sharp gasps. “Breathe Zimon, breathe.” “I am.” Zimon gasped. Kai rolled his eyes, “Breathe in a way that doesn’t sound like you’re dying, your stress is making me stressed and that’s really annoying.” Zimon laughed tiredly, “Sorry.” Kai leaned back, “You okay now.” “I think so.” Zimon shrugged. Kai slung an arm around Zimon’s shoulders, “Let’s go get food.” “But we were going to…” Zimon began. “You’re clearly not up for a big party with everyone, let’s just go chill.” Zimon nodded weakly, grateful for Kai's understanding. The two decided to eat at a small diner in the center of town. They say down to order and Zimon slowly started to relax. He chatted with Kai and felt generously lighter. Suddenly, everything happened at once. The chef burned something in the adjacent kitchen, a child tried to drink hot tea, and a car alarm started blaring. Zimon began scratching the skin of his forearm, pain flared against his skin, and beads of bright red blood dotted his arms. “What are you doing?” Kai exclaimed. “H-have to make it stop,” Zimon gasped, “It hurts, it hurts so bad.” “Zimon, please stop,” Kai begged. Zimons faintly noted that he was being led somewhere. Bright light hit his eyes and he squeezed them shut, sobbing. “Make it stop, I'm sorry, please just make it stop.” Zimon shook violently, legs giving out. His whole body was on fire, where were his sisters, he couldn't leave the them. “W-where are they?” “Zimon please, you’re here with me, we're outside the cafe.” Kai wrapped his arms around Zimon, “You’re safe.” Zimon slowly returned to himself, feeling wrung our and exhausted. Kai blinked at him with worried blue eyes, “What happened Zimon?” “The noise, the smell.” Zimon’s stomach heaved and he pressed a hand to his mouth. “Zimon?” “G-gonna be sick.” Kai placed a hand on Zimon’s back, “Shh, you’re okay. You’re safe, I’m here, you’re going to be okay.” Zimon finally calmed leaning against Kai in exhaustion. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. Kai shook his head, “No apology’s, you went through something horrible, no one expects you to be perfectly fine.” “I didn’t realize how much it still affected me, I mean there were the nightmares, and the panic attacks but I didn’t think it was affecting my everyday life.” Kai narrowed his eyes, “You didn’t tell me about the nightmares.” “I didn’t want you to know,” Zimon sighed, “I felt weak.” “Pain isn’t weakness.” “I think,” Zimon began softly, “I need help.” Kai nodded, “I understand. I’ll be right here if you need me.” Zimon stood slowly, “I’m scared.” Kai stood also, “It’s okay to feel scared, but I’m proud of you. Asking for help isn’t easy.”

I wake up, sweat clinging to my forehead as I gasp for air. It’s the fifth time I’ve had this dream. The dream that’s begging me to tell Maisie what I’ve done.

“It’s almost been a year,” I sigh. Wiping my wet forehead with the back of my hand. “A year since I met you.” I shut my eyes as if Maisie were sitting in front of me.

It’s been a year and I’ve been lying to Maisie. How can I do this? She’s Maisie . . . She’s been through so much all because of me. I shouldn’t treat her this way, she doesn’t deserve it.

I look over at the alarm clock that’s glowing on my bedside table. It’s six, the same time I’ve been springing awake all week.

“I need to tell Maisie,” I mumble, sitting up. I can’t go another day without her knowing who I am. A killer, a murderer . . . A heart breaker.

. . .

The whole day passes me as fast as the wind that’s blowing past me as I walk down the cold sidewalk. It’s close to sunset, which used to be my favortie time of day. But now, it’s the time of day where I have to tell Maisie the truth.

It’s the time of day when I’ll lose her forever.

Tears threaten to spill as I walk up her driveway. The cars not parked so her aunt must be out. It’s like the universe is telling me I should do this, her aunts gone, Tommy was really supportive telling me it was right even if I lost her, and I’m here. I haven’t turned around or decided to just tell her I love her.

I suck in the cold evening air as I raise one of my hands to knock on the wooden door.

“One sec!” A voice calls from inside the house. I hear footsteps and the click of Maisie turning the lock.

“Hey,” she smiles when our eyes meet. “Wanna come in?”

Do I have to do this? She’s so beautiful, she’s so happy. I smile as Maisie steps out of the doorway, her hand still on the knob.

“Can we talk?” I ask, spinning around as she shuts the door.

Maisie’s eyes squint as she stares at me. “Yeah, what’s going on?”

She knows! Of course she knows it’s Maisie. She knows something’s wrong and she knows it’s going to ruin everything between us.

“Can we . . . Sit down maybe?” I hint, hoping Maisie get’s the idea that this is something that’s going to shake her world. And mine.

Maisie nods, leading the way to her living room. We pass the kitchen, the warm scent of vanilla filling my nose.

Maisie takes a seat on the grey couch, leaning against the dark blue pillows as I sit a few inches away from her.

“What did you want to tell me?” Maisie asks, playing with the pony tail holders on her wrist.

How do I say this? Should I just come out and say I caused the crash? Or should I slowly bring it up? Fast right?

“That night . . . The night of your crash.” I sigh, looking away from Maisie. “I was kinda there.”

I look back up at Maisie, she’s frozen her eyes shining with confusion.

_Keep your eyes on hers. If you’re going to tell her this then you at least need to be strong about it. _ __ __ “I was in the other car,” I say, keeping my eyes on Maisie’s. “I was the one that . . .killed your mom.”

Maisie doesn’t say anything. Her eyes aren’t even talking for her, she’s just sitting there.

“Masise?” I whisper. “Can you say something?”

Now everything changes. Maisie’s eyes explode with tears, her hand raises to her mouth. She shakes her head, shutting her eyes as she chokes out sobs.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I really am . . .”

I stand up, my heart beating fast in my chest as I walk down the hallway. Maisie’s sobs follow me as I reach the door.

How could I have done this to her? I open the door, stepping out onto the porch as I slap my hand over my eyes, falling to the ground.

To Be Continued . . .

I met Will on a dating app. Never in a million years would I anticipate the emotional awakening I would have the moment I laid eyes on him. Certainly I had been in love before, but I had never quite felt a love like this.

We met on a surprisingly cool South Florida night. We rarely get those here. I couldn’t tell you where we were exactly. It was a random parking lot somewhere near the water. I remember the salty wind whipping my hair in my face and cooling the sweat that had been dripping in a slow line down my spine. The nerves had gotten to me. I hadn’t been out with anyone new in so long. Will was only supposed to be an experiment, you see. I had caught my (now ex) on that same dating app trying to hit on a bunch of women and when I confronted him, his response was, “Yea, I may have tried but I honestly barely got a response and only was on it for 3 days. Go ahead and try it for yourself. You’ll see.”

Cue Will. We met, we talked and walked and laughed. He told me about how he had been forced to travel all over the world as an army brat. He was originally from Louisiana, but was down here for drug rehabilitation. Most people would see that as a red flag; I grew up in a very dysfunctional household so I saw it as a green light. I was very young and very naive. He was not much taller than me and had darker hair, which was pretty much the opposite of my ex. I had found myself mentally comparing him the whole night and loving all the differences.

After hours of walking around and talking, we ended up on his back porch, sitting on a couch together. He looked at me as if I was an exquisite piece of art he was seeing for the first time and he just couldn’t avert his gaze. He leaned in and kissed me. It was at that moment I knew a big piece of my heart was always going to be his.

I never believed in love at first sight, and to be honest - I still don’t. I can tell how I feel about someone best when we kiss. There is something intangible that sparks when the chemistry is right. Things got heated and I’ll spare you the details. The next year and a half of my life I spent in, what now has a beautifully coined term, a “situationship”. I was in, he was out. He was in, I was out. We were constantly either fighting or fucking but no matter who else came into my life or his, he was the only one that held my heart and he knew it. He struggled on and off with his sobriety, which, in reality, was the main cause of all our turmoil. When he would go off the rails, he would push me away.

Finally, there came a point where I could see a future for us. He was sober. I had become sober myself. The only thing that worked against us at this point? Time. He needed to have a year clean before he could date anyone, and after all the fighting and betrayal, I had a really difficult time waiting. I waited nine months and thought, isn’t this enough already? But he rejected me still and I just couldn’t handle the rejection after all the deception.

I met someone else. Someone who, at the time, seemed to be the exact opposite of everything he was. Stable, successful, genuine, honest. Although Will would always have that piece of my heart, I thought I was doing the right thing for myself by letting him go. Our fights were toxic, the betrayal ran deep, and our relationship was dysfunctional. I loved him deeply, but I had to choose myself at a certain point. I thought that maybe this new person could be a fresh start.

It didn’t take long for Will to realize he was losing me for good. He reached out and wanted to meet up in person. He wanted to make amends. I knew for a fact if I saw him in person, there would be no stopping whatever happened between us. The attraction, chemistry, spark, love, whatever you want to call it was too strong. I was a moth to his flame. Only this time I had been reborn with lessons learned and knew better than to keep going back and burning myself. I didn’t want to tempt myself and risk losing what I was building with this new person. So, although it pained me and I did tell him I forgave him for everything, I denied him and myself the opportunity of seeing each in person this last time.

A couple of months go by. I had to block him. It was too painful to see him and too tempting to receive calls or messages. One night I received a call from an unknown number. It was around three in the morning, I answered, and it was him. My breath caught in my throat, I hadn’t heard his voice in so long. He had been kicked out of where he was staying and needed a place to go. He was clearly inebriated. The old me would have dropped everything and everyone to run to his rescue. The old me had been there with him once, holding his hand, sleeping in a plastic chair and waiting for him to wake up while he laid in a hospital bed after he OD’d on my bathroom floor, after he swore he wouldn’t bring that shit in my house. I put my foot down, and I told him no. I would not come running to his rescue tonight. Not anymore. I wished him well, but I wouldn’t be bailing him out anymore. Tough love…Right.

A few more months go by. This new guy was starting to show me his true colors, but that’s a different story for a different time. All my life I have struggled with having horrible nightmares. Dreams so vivid I get woken up by someone else because I am screaming and crying in my sleep. I can recall a lot of them, although I really wish I couldn’t. This night I dreamt that Will and I were walking and talking again. It wasn’t romantic or anything of the sort. It was more like he was trying to tell me something but couldn’t get the words out, or I just couldn’t understand him. He sounded muffled. He drank a sip of the can of Jupina (and for those who don’t know what that is, it’s a pineapple flavored soda) that was in his hand and a second later vomited right where he stood. When I looked down, it looked like he was throwing up chunks of dirt. He looked back up at me and smiled with pieces of soil still in his teeth. He looked sickly and pale. That’s when I startled awake.

I picked up my phone and the brightness of the screen blinded me semi-permanently. It was three in the morning. I was feeling unsettled about the dream and thought maybe I should just check out his Facebook page and do a quick social stalking to see what he had been up to, make sure everything was okay. I unblocked him, pulled up his page and my heart sunk.

Only three weeks before, his sister had posted a memorial video to his page. When I did a deeper dive to uncover what happened I discovered that he had nowhere to go, so he moved back home, to Louisiana, presumably around all his old drug buddies. This is where he OD’d and died.

I dreamt about Will for years after this. Dreaming that he had never really died in the first place. I think my mind just didn’t want to accept it. It’s been difficult to face that he is really gone, and so is the piece of my heart that I left with him.

They don’t ever go away. The demons. The monsters. Whether I close my eyes or open them. No matter how far I hide under the covers. They. Won’t. Leave. They just sit there… Laughing, screaming. Their twisted smiles of jagged teeth. Their long, thin fingers with sharp daggers on the tips of them. Their large eyes poking out and staring at me. The blood dripping down from their teeth. My terror is what they feed off of. The fear is what keeps them coming. I try. I really do. To not be afraid of them. But I can’t. It’s their purpose. It’s the whole reason I am the person they torment. Their names are depression. Their names are anxiety. Their names are fear. Their names are tears. Their names are Satan. The devil himself. I can feel his presence. I can feel the burn. I can feel the hate. I can feel the stabs. I can taste the blood. I hear the bones cracking. No one understands what I mean when I see things at night. When I see them, I know they are the only ones who understand. The demons get me. The demons hate me. But everyone hates me. That’s why I hate myself. And I hide myself. Because no one should have to go through what I go through. But no one should judge me for what they don’t understand. Yet they do. They do so much. The demons aren’t just demons. They are basically scarier looking humans. Should I be afraid of these so called nightmares? I don’t know. But all I know is that yes, I am terrified.

(Oh btw Merry Christmas!!)

Whoever told you that monsters were just under your bed, lied to you.

Whoever told you that people can’t change, lied to you.

Whoever told you that magic wasn’t real, lied to you.

And whoever told you that the voices in your head were fake… lied to you.

No, I’m not sick. I’m not dying.

Hell yes, I’m probably driving myself crazy. But that’s part of the fun right?

Laying here in this hole… Remembering every little thing you did. It hurts, hurts like hell. How could you leave me?

You didn’t try to patch. Didn’t even try to fix.

Shit, I’d be surprised if you even thought about how it hurt. I think I might fall over in shock if it even crossed your mind for one damned second.

Isn’t like you’d catch me. Hell, you’re too good to help anyone but yourself. Or so you thought, yeah, you thought.

All that laying awake at night… Close my eyes and I see it. Peel ‘em wide open and pin them up. Somehow you’re still there, here.

What the hell’s the matter with you? You can’t take a hint? I don’t want you. Go the fuck away.

Yet the memory sticks close. I’d be damned if anyone even fucking read this.

Doesn’t matter. I know where I’m going. Oh, boy do I know.

Once you said; I’m the monster. And I know what I’ll do.

And no.

You won’t put me under your bed. You won’t hear me in your mind. You won’t try to change me.

Because baby, I’m not coming after half of you.

Haha, no honey. I’m coming for all of you.

I toss and I turn again and again, night after night. Always so afraid to close my eyes out of the fear of what I might see.

The man in the mask who scratches all of the windows with his hook for Hand walking round and round my house only pausing to peer through my bedroom window selectively casting his gaze on to me. And then I wake up with a scream.

The woman in red who I find in my bed and as I go to flip her over she’s missing her face. I pull back the sheets and has no limbs. And I open my eyes and I’m frozen.

Night after night, I wake up in a fright. The images haunt me while I’m awake, I can’t function. I’m afraid I’m starting to break.