The terror attacks often. And it's never just a dream. *My excuse for putting this in the MCR category is that I pictured the father as Ray.* ~Revised~ Ch2 to come...?
But I don't want to go to sleep. I can't go to sleep. If I close my eyelids she'll come for me. Ghost, spirit, demon, whatever the fuck it is- it's visits are becoming more frequent. Sometimes I don't even have to sleep.
I pull the thin blanket over my face in attempts to conceal my identity. I know it won't work. She knows who you are. You can't hide it.
The creak of the house's aged floors then a tapping on a wall. That's routine. Her fun begins soon thereafter. Yet it's always different.
A falling book distracts me from the sharp pain-a scratch-on the side of my neck. Looks like the game has begun.
"What do you want?" Salty tears sting the back of my eyes.
I know it's no help. You're only allowed to hear what she wants you to. But her voice comes across as thin, breathy whispers. Harsh, inaudible tones piercing the air.
"Can you please leave me alone? P-please."
I cry out in pain at the cuts forming down my legs. My new cuts bleed out covering the elder scars. The bleeding shows no signs of letting up. I wrap a sheet tightly around a leg in hopes of quick aid. before being pushed back by an overpowering source. I can't move. I'm pinned.
"Just stop!" I whisper into the air. Sobbing profusely, a small shriek is amitted from my voice.
"I win. I always win." The words shove themself down my ears and wrap around my brain squeezing it tightly. Like a noose.
As the pressure in my head builds, control is back in my hands. I sit straight up, screaming and in the familiar cold sweat.
I watch the young girl walk towards the frame of my bedroom door fading as she goes.
The doorway is filled with the silhouette of my faster who rushes in at he sight. He pulls me closely into his chest and sits next to me. We stay like this for what seems like forever. Just me sobbing into his chest wetting the fabric.
"Those dreams. It was those dreams again wasn't it?" Running a hand through his mop of curly hair, he lets out a long sigh.
"But they aren't dreams, daddy."