Daydreaming

Nothing Was to be Seen

Warning?

"Goodnight, sweetheart. Don't let the bed buggies bite." My mom whispers pinching my cheek in turn making me giggle. She kisses the tip of my nose, and swipes her calming hand over my cheek.

I was only around five and a half at the time, and I had no idea what was about to happen. Now at the age of 27, I am terrified of living. All because of the story I'm about to tell. The same damn story I've been telling for twenty-two years. Nobody gives a damn, nobody listens. They all think I'm insane, and that's why Ive been inclosed in these same well-lit four walls, and my arms wrapped tightly in this jacket with metal belts; because they think I'm crazy.

As I said before, my mother had tucked me into my snug little bed, and I had begun to close my eyes and drift to slumber. Then I felt a tap on my foot. My eyes snapped open, and I jumped up under from the covers.
I looked about the room, but nothing was to be found.

So I once again, shoved my feet under my comforter and sheets, and began to get comfy again.

Now you heard me say UNDER the blankets and such, which is why it's such a wonder that I felt a sharp nail dig into the arch of my foot, twisting and applying more pressure each second.

This time I bring both my feet to my chest, and look at the bottom of my bed.
Nothing was to be found.

I finally talked some sense into my young self, and nestled back into my large bed. This time, nothing scratched or rubbed or anything else to my feet, and I fell fast asleep.

Abruptly, I felt myself being nudged. At first it was soft and tender, but then it became violent and I felt I was being thrashed around with the covers. Then I had grabbed a hold on myself, and sit up on my pillows.

That's when I had noticed I wasn't alone. At the bottom edge of my bed, there stood two figures. One was large, it seemed to be a man, and a strange face shape, I think was a pit bulls head. He was all black; his suit, his point ears, his snout, his arms, but his mouth and eyes. His eyes glisten a dark orange, almost red, and his lips seemed to be a humans smile, with piercing white teeth, but in the shape of spikes.

This man was holding hands with what seemed to be a young girl, by her gray sun dress, and black Mary Janes. She had very pale skin, and was a huge contrast to the dog man beside her.

Her face was more peculiar, as it seemed she was wearing a costume mask head. It was a white bunny head, including both ears, but the one was broken off, and all you see is the wire support remaining. The eyes were up in a slit, and I don't know if it was paint or blood but it was smeared straight across the head in splatters. The mouth and whiskers were of neutral standers and no real emotion showed. She had looked nothing like the Easter bunnies in the mall my mother had taken me to, numerous times before.

I was shaking all over staring wide eyed at the creatures, unknowing of their actions. Until the the man let go of the girls hand, and sent her to the side of my bed were I slept. The tall man himself crawled into the bed beside me , and laid making full eye contact with me.

It wasn't until he did that, I had noticed I was completely frozen in fear, and unable to talk or move.

The man smelt of smoke, and decay, a smell I only knew from the previous summer when my cat had died. "Child watch." He commanded in a low booming voice. My head uncontrollably snapped to where the girl had stood.

She came forward, and grabbed my hand, singing a soft melody of Mary had a Little Lamb.

Which seemed to have calmed me down enough that I was able to move my body once again. I reach out to her face and rubbed her just as my mom had done earlier, but I had a plan. It was a somber moment, until I jerked her mask off of her head, making her scream like a banshee.

So loud that my ears began to tremble, and I gripped them to release some of the pain, but it was of no use. The little glimpse I had got of her face was the open sockets where her eyes used to be, and the dried blood surrounding them.

The man grabbed a hold on my neck, and pinned me to the bed, digging his long sharp claws into my throat. I couldn't breath and I scratched and punched and kicked and wriggled under his grip, but it was of no use, because he wasn't letting up. The girl began to cry beside me and hit him in the arm, I thought in my defense. What seemed like ages, he let me go. And just stared into my eyes.

He pressed each of his fists into the cushion beside my head. I was coughing my breath back and breathing heavily. His smile closed into a pucker form, and he laid his lips upon mine. I realize now, that's how the devil stole my life.

He bends down to my ear and begins to whisper "You have awoken Lucifer."

With that said, they disappear, and I could NOT go back to sleep. I hadn't told anyone yet, and I wished I hadn't said anything in the future. I actually didn't go back to sleep for days, until they gave me some ️sorta sleep medicine, and It knocked me out. Although after I had slept again and I tried to tell my parents why I was so afraid of the dark, is when I did start to behave weirdly. I would be close to my mother and then she would anger me, and one time it drove me to bite a gash into her cheek.

I had slept with a knife, and carried them everywhere I had went. My friends beforehand were all now afraid of me, and I enjoyed skinning dead birds and cats and roadkill, and things of that nature.

One day it just seemed to transition to me not even caring if they were alive, and skinning them. Seeing torture in their eyes would just drive me to jab my knife into the bottom edge of the socket and pop them out.

With the eye ball itself, I would start a small fire in a old vegetable can, and roast them. The way it popped in my mouth when I bit into it really drove me to do it more.

After some time, my parents just couldn't deal with me anymore, and they sent me away. That was their mistake.

Repeating the actions that I had done with the animals, I skinned the infants in the nursery of the orphanage I had lived in. Nobody accused me of it though, guess I'm good at hiding things.

The day I turned eighteen, I tracked down my parents, and tied them into the dining room chairs.

My father, had done nothing but love me my entire life, and didn't deserve what I had done, but my mother had rid of me, and not trying to help me figure out what had happened to me.

I kissed my father and apologized to him what I was about to do. I made her watch as I took my knife and pushed it into his body, slowly, blood spurting everywhere. The knife puncturing into his organs, and the life remaining started dying out.

His screams were muffled by the sound of the radio I turned on earlier, and she started screaming out "Jim!" "Jim!" Shes such a fool.

Once he was undoubtedly gone, I dug my knife into the bottom of her sockets, and ripped her eyes out. She screamed just as loud as the little girl did when I was younger, and it made me cower in fear. I sat in the fetal position on the floor, and cried at what I had done. Or at least that's what I thought I had done. Apparently, she was stabbed forty-eight times in the chest.

To this day, I'm locked up inside this looney bin, and I don't know why. I was possessed by whatever the hell had visited me. None of that was my actions, but they didn't believe me.

Those figures in my room, now visit me constantly, and taunt me by talking to me in my father and mothers voice.

Kill me please.

A/n
Sooo. I think this story kinda stinks but I needed to get it out of my mind. It kept replaying, and such. Over it 😂 ✌️✌️✌️