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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 01, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 01, 2017



I have sensed Them for a while now.

They’re not visible, but I can feel Their presence constantly. I feel Them hanging above my house like thick air that chokes me, every morning when I wake up. I feel Them in the lonely hallways at school.

They never speak, just creep around like thieves in the night. I don’t know what They’re planning on stealing, but They make me feel uncomfortable.

I saw Them for the first time today. They appeared soon after dinner. Mom was shouting at the top of her lungs, dad threw an empty bottle against the wall. My sister was crying in her room. They poked Their hands around my bedroom’s doorframe, grinned at me where I was sitting on the floor with my hands over my ears.

I don’t know what They were looking for, but something in those dead eyes told me They’re going to do whatever it takes to get it.

They have been watching me for a while.

I see Them sitting at the breakfast table every morning, next to my father. As if They belonged there. Always with that same smirk on Their pale faces. They walk with me to school. Just silently following me like a shadow that never leaves. Whenever They were close by, I felt miserable. Like I would never smile again. Like I didn’t have anything to be smiling about. I hated that feeling. I hated Them.

They would even visit me at night. I would fall asleep with Them standing outside my window, those eyes fixed on me. Draining me. Draining me of anything good.

I would wake up at two o’clock in the morning, crying uncontrollably for some other reason, and find Them sitting on the edge of my bed. Their arms would be reached out, like They were trying to grab me, but something prevented Them from doing that.

It was in that moment that I realized that the thing They wanted, was me.

No one else seemed to notice Them. Everyone went about with their own business, not noticing the dark cloud of Their presence that’s always around me. No one understood. No one ever bothered to listen.

They whisper mocking words in my ear, make poison run in my veins. They stroke my neck with Their slender fingers of death. Their laughs cause me to cringe and doubt everything I’ve come to known about life.

It wasn’t long before They finally managed to take me.

I was at my weakest, sitting cross-legged on my bed at eleven o’clock at night. I was rocking backwards and forwards, while tears streamed down the slope of my cheek. My mother was shouting, my father was drunk. Neither of them heard a thing. Not that they ever did.

As I sat listening to them fighting once more, I thought about how everything turned out horribly wrong, and how all the nice things were disappearing like stars at morning break.

As soon as those thoughts started to surface, They climbed in through my bedroom window. They walked closer to me, the same old, familiar grin visible, only this time it was larger than ever before. I was under the impression that They would stop in Their tracks a few meters away from me, like they always did. But They didn’t.

They never stopped getting closer.

Suddenly They launched at me, and I fell backwards onto the bed, trying to pry Them off me. It didn’t work. They pulled back my arms and held it so tight it hurt. There were so many of Them, I couldn’t breathe. The last thing I saw was one of Them reaching for my throat and the sound of their laughter echoed in the empty room as my eyes closed.

I have been with Them for a while.

Living with Them in their mansion, with dark walls that was a home to the shadows and the floor was covered with ice instead of with wood or tiles. The garden was burning with horrible, ravenous flames that seemed to eat up anything happy and good that came up too close to the lawn.

In the beginning I resented Them. I refused to have anything to do with Them. They ruined me. But yet, after a few days, I felt a certain pull towards Them. Without me knowing why or understanding it, I would leave my new bedroom and join Them. It’s hard to describe why. Maybe it’s because They’ve come to be a part of my life. A part of me. I couldn’t even remember a time when They weren’t there.

I would spend my days with Them.

They showed me around the house, gave me lessons on the topic of life. Their version of it. They didn’t really value life that much. They talked about how there couldn’t possibly be a God, or at least not a loving one, because no one that supposedly loves you, would let you experience so much pain and hurt.

I debated this at first, replying that it’s exactly because He loves us, that He lets us get hurt. He wants us to learn to be strong. He wants to teach us that we should be faithful to Him, even when times are hard. But with being in Their company all the time, I quickly buried that idea. I think that was one of my biggest mistakes. Letting Them control my thoughts and ideas that way.

But I did.

At night I would eat dinner with Them and They would tell me all kinds of stories. They were all so different, and yet certain elements were constantly repeated. For example there were always a person who needed saving, and a villain or villains that kept holding that person back.

It was quite obvious manipulation, if I think about it now, but back then I was too messed up to realize or see it.

So I fell into Their trap and it wasn’t long before I saw myself as the helpless victim and my parents as the villains who never understood and held me back. What I didn’t knew, was the fact that my parents holding me back, might have saved my life.

But They made me hate everyone and everything I once loved and cared about.

With every day that passed, I grew closer and closer to Them. It was almost as if They became an addiction that I couldn’t live without.

It was like They led me into a room, locking me in and throwing away the key. I was trapped. Trapped with horrible thoughts that wouldn’t disappear and had no way of escaping. They were prisoners just like me.

Each thought brought forth so many emotions that it felt like I was drowning in them. Each one was like a bullet, a punch in the chest. It was like a nightmare with no end. There was never-ending pain, never-ending tears. And the whole time, They were just sitting there, watching me.

The smirk that appeared as a smile to me during these last few weeks, were now just once again a simple smirk. We were no longer friends, in fact, we never were. I was always the rabbit and They were always the troop of lions. I was just too ignorant to notice and to see Them for what They truly were.

And at that moment, I hated myself more than I hated Them.

I hate myself for thinking I could beat Them at Their own game. For thinking I was battling with Them, when actually the war was within myself. The only question that now remains, is whether They were really ever there and if I was actually ruined by my own thoughts and actions, and not by Them.

A group of people with pale faces and long, slender fingers of death stands in a shaded place. A name is written on a grey stone, a broken heart that the world forgot. After one last glance, the group turns around and walks in the opposite direction.

Their faces becomes visible in the afternoon sun and a large grin is seen on their faces, a large grin could be seen shared among one another.

Their work was done.



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