(The song is Little Girls from the 2014 version of Annie. The metaphor is the orphans are my hallucinations.)

My POV

“I don’t want to be here- but I don’t wanna go home either. I don’t want another nightmare.” I glanced up at Giuliana. “I saw what you typed in the group chat.. What even happened?” Concern was written all over her face and body.

***

In a sweat, I grasp my blankets desperately. I begin hyperventilating rapidly. My eyes were clenched closed tightly. The worst mistake I can do is look up, I tell myself.

But I can’t help it. I open my eyes gently, blinking. My vision is blurry, but the pink LEDs helped light my way.

There it is. Smiling at me.

(“Everywhere I turn, I can see them.”)

I grab a piece of my hair, twisting it around my finger and pulling out the tiny strands. It’s smile widens, seemingly growing bigger the more I blink.

(“Guess I’ll go tear all my hair out..”)

Does anyone think I’m crazy because of this? Am I schizophrenic? Do I seem like I’m going insane? What if anyone finds out?

(“I should be famous, and apart of history!..”)

My hands return under the covers, scratching at my legs out of panic. My finger nails dig into my flesh, leaving pink scrapped skin in their wake.

I hate it here. I hate doing this every night. It’s all the same. It haunts me.

(“But I find myself here at the snot house..”)

Hatred and fear is the only thing I can feel as I continue to stare at it. If it keeps smiling wider, the sides of its lips will split open. It mocks me. I know it finds my fear funny.

(“Little shoes little socks!”)

Steaming hot tears emerge from my bottom eyelid as my bottom lip quivers. If it wants to do that, then it should just do what it wants.

The tears flood down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I blink it away, not being able to rip my eyes away from it.

(“Please kill me- I’m serious! Please kill me, I’m not singing, I’m asking!”)

I feel like a prisoner here. Like it’s holding me captive. Like a demonic attachment. How am I supposed to get rid of this?

Nobody can help me. Their advice is useless. My nails seem to go into my legs further out of pure panic. I gasp, realizing I had been holding my breath.

(“Locked in a cage with all the rats that slipped through the cracks, and now I’m stuck with the scraps and I can’t seem to find my way back!”)

(“Get me out, Get me out of here..”)

Sinking back down into my bed, I force myself to close my eyes and don’t move. Hopefully, it won’t bother me now.

***

I bite the bottom of my cheek. “Uhm.. It’s sort of a long story. Just know I have sleep paralysis.”