In Your Head

six

The hum of a car passes our street from below, the noise traveling through my open window, carried by the night breeze. Shadows cast over my walls, lighting up pieces of my room—my Nirvana, The Craft, Britney Spears, Blink-182 posters—before the dark takes over again. But it's never completely dark in our house anymore, the hallway light remains on through all hours as it cracks through my bedroom door, mixing with the moonlight that's much brighter on this night for some reason. I'm asleep, but not at the same time. My senses heightened with my eyes closed, the sounds louder and my feeling amplified. Sometimes my eyes blink open, demanding I stay awake. But the next minute they'll close without my control, the other half of me demanding I sleep. I often fight both sides every night, sleep no longer comes easy to me. And on those miraculous nights when I can actually keep my eyes shut the second they hit the pillow, I can't stay asleep. Every little sound sets me off—every car, every lamp post flickering out my window, every time my mom washes her hands or flushes the toilet in the middle of the night. It's everything and anything. And sometimes, if I really listen, pay close attention, I hear things that aren't really here.

His heavy footsteps above me. Shuffling, then picking up speed. The rattling of the locked door, holding me down in the cellar. His footsteps once again on the stairs coming down.

*BANG*

*SNAP*

The leaves and old twigs hitting the locked and barred window close to the ceiling. His breath, raspy and hoarse, spreading across my neck. His glare startling me awake, as if he's standing in the corner of my room, his presence intense, overwhelming. His touch, his grubby hands wrapping around me, burning my skin.

No. Get away. You aren't here. Go away. Leave me alone.

I say to myself sometimes, talking to him like he's in the room with me. And some nights, I swear he truly is. A hazy ghost in the shadows with no outline, unable to let go of his hold on me.

"You're mine, Kara. You always will be. No matter where I am or where you are, you'll always belong to me. You might think you got rid of me, that I'm gone forever from your life, but that's not true. I'll always be here, walking with you. Talking to you, sticking by your side. I'm stuck in your head, Kara. I'm not going anywhere," the dark calls out to me, his voice emerging in the room, creeping in the corners within the black pixels.

I'm wide awake now, there's no closing my eyes and falling back asleep. My heart races, running away from me along with my breath.

He isn't here. It's not him. This is all in your head.

I don't know why I bother repeating this useless chant. I don't believe it. And like I've said, there's no convincing me, I'm not someone you can easily fool anymore. I've tried so hard this past year not to be.

"You're mine, Kara. Forever, and always. Remember that, you can't get away from me," the dead voice of Mr. Val hounds me. No matter how many times I'm reminding myself he isn't here, he keeps coming back. And I can't lie here anymore listening to the dark.

Peeling the covers off me, I roll out of my bed carefully, trying not to stir too much and wake Mandy who's asleep beside me. But honestly I don't have to worry too much about her, she sleeps like the dead most nights.

Dragging my feet, I open my door across the room, the cool night air from my open window brushing against my bare legs, sending shivers all over. But it's not too bad in the bright hallway, it's warmer if anything. Away from the chilly fall air of the night, my exposed legs grow goosebumps as my baggy T-shirt sways against my thighs, and my long, thick hair sticks to my face.

My mom's room is wide open, as if waiting for me to crawl into bed with her like the many nights when I was younger and had a bad dream. I'm not like that anymore as we've said. Sure, I still have bad dreams, much worse than when I was a kid. But I don't crawl into her bed with her anymore, I hardly enjoy being around her during the day. I don't know what it is though, as if she's developed this new power of draining the energy, the life out of me whenever I get close. But she's my mom, I don't want to feel this way, I didn't used to.