Thirteen

Thirteen Part 2

Since the last visit from Thirteen, I had moved into my a home with my best friend, closer to the school I would be attending. I also hadn't seen it in a long while, new anxiety medication was a godsend. I was able to sleep much easier.

Until late March, when I woke up to an all-too-similar feeling of time standing still. I wasn't afraid, no, I was irritated. After all of this time, it decided to come back, but I wouldn't be paying it the attention it wanted.

I could see through the corner of my eye that my room door was wide open, and it was standing in the doorway. Instead of giving Thirteen the satisfaction, I decided to roll over and face the window. And I nearly shit my pants.

As soon as I had turned, the reflection revealed Thirteen crouching by the bed, right next to my head, grinning. I took a deep breath and did what everyone eventually does, I pulled the covers up over my head and closed my eyes. For a while, this seemed to be working, and I started to relax.

Then I felt something touch my side. Claws, Thirteen, stroking its fingers up and down my side. Now I flipped, jumping out of bed and booking it across the room to flick on the light. When I did, Thirteen wasn't grinning anymore, and somehow that was much scarier than when it did.

Because now it was angry. Now it wasn't going to be playing games, so to speak. I didn't know what else to do, so I just shut my door and turned the light back off, going to lay down.

I know what you're thinking, "what the fuck, man? That thing was just creeping on you". I know, but you don't understand. I had become attached to Thirteen, in a sense. It had sat with me all of those lonely nights, listened to me, as if it were some otherworldly friend.

Thirteen had seated itself next to the bed, watching me as I climbed back onto it.

"I'm going back to sleep, okay? You can stay, just don't fucking touch me." I managed to stem my anger into just that, curling up in bed. Thirteen seemed content for now, staying quiet. I wondered if it was lonely, and it wanted company?

Another misconception. The next few weeks proved to me that it had been visiting me every fucking night. It had never left, I had just been sleeping better because of the meds. Thirteen didn't smile much anymore, just watching me with its eyeless face, in a permanent scowl.

Thirteen started getting mad at me, too. Really mad, especially if I would turn on the lights or make it stop touching me. Something it seemed to like doing, touching my skin, observing it. That part was going a bit over the line, all to often I'd wake to it stroking it's claws along my arm, scowling.

I started to ponder what it meant by it wanted me to itself, now. Thinking over these events, I wondered if it had sexual undertones. When I was younger I had conducted extensive reading on Incubi and Succubi, but none had behaved like Thirteen.

It started to become abundantly clear to me that Thirteen was male, and he was very domineering as of lately. I started sleeping in my friend's room, blaming my panic attacks and the like. When really, I was afraid of what Thirteen might do next.

I know some people out there fantasize about being fawned over by some otherworldly demon, locked in lust and passion of a dark note. But it wasn't like that, at all. Thirteen was not concerned for my health, my feelings, or my opinions. He did not consider that I am a female, and he did not care if I was scared anymore.

Thirteen was furious when he discovered I was sleeping elsewhere. This was clear to me when I'd arrived home before everyone else, and he had taken it upon himself to knock down some plates from the cupboard.

I was blamed for it, obviously, and nearly kicked out. But I offered to pay my way out of it over time, and the issue was dropped. Which only made him angrier. He took a step further, and began to hurt my friend.

I know, at this point, I should probably leave to save my friend, hm? It's not that simple. I was terrified for my life now, as well as hers, and I didn't want to be alone with Thirteen anymore.

Towards the end of Junior year, I started waking to him standing over me as I slept. I would be on the floor, instead of on the bed, and he would be standing over me, watching me.

He didn't speak much at all anymore.

June is when it happened. Thirteen had me to itself, and I was caught so off guard. Nobody was home, nobody around, no one to help. My memory of the night is still blurry, fogged over. I don't like recounting the details, but it sent me to the nearest psychiatric ward the next morning.

My psyche ward experience wasn't a walk in the park, either... To be continued.