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.