Thirteen

Thirteen Part 4

~You'll notice that I'm posting in parts, because these are just memories of the past two years, I have to take frequent breaks to step back and rethink what I will and won't share. After I finish these up, I will keep an open log about Thirteen, and my experiences with "him" to this day.~

But for now, the beginning of the story must be told. Now, Tuesday, as I mentioned previously, showed up around August. Right before my Senior year of High School, how convenient, right?

Right. Tuesday was a chirpy little thing, a female from what I could tell. She never spoke much, but she was always happy, I suppose. I wrote off Thursday and Tuesday as threats, because they weren't anything like Thirteen at all. They looked similar, but that was about it.

Thirteen grudgingly accepted that he would have to 'share' me with these two, which caused him to start acting out much more. Senior year was hellish for now, Thirteen began to tail me around school, for fuck's sake. I couldn't focus on lessons, and I even began to see awful things.

He seemed to take delight in causing me hallucinations of the hallways going dark, and shadowy, static like beings walking at me. Their movements were always twitchy and jerky, their mouths agape in silent screams, elongated, as if their jaws were broken. The school itself appeared to be old and dilapidated, fairly similar to the rot in Silent Hill.

I can't say this didn't scare me, because it did, a lot. You don't understand how real it looked and felt, I could practically taste the must of the rotting school, and the creatures coming for me looked so real. I remember booking it down the side hall rather than my usual route, which got me a ticket to the counselor's office.

What the hell was I supposed to tell them? I didn't mention Thirteen, because I didn't want him to go away. As I said before, I had grown attached to him. To it. I couldn't imagine a day without Thirteen anymore, and I made excuses to his behaviour.

He just wanted my approval, right? My attention, like before. He was like a child....Right? I was still unsure, by now I'd known Thirteen for a year, and I still had jack squat information on him. It became hard to study and complete classes, I found myself spiraling into another depression and anxiety ridden life. On top of this, I was being bullied tremendously by the students.

So I dropped out. I moved out of my friend's home and back into my old home with my parents. Instead of sleeping in my room, I chose to move to the living room. Not long after this, I met a guy I really liked, and we started dating.

But of course, that just pissed Thirteen off even more. I would wake up to him absolutely livid, growling at me from the doorway across the room. Used to his antics, I brushed this off and went about my business.

He resumed to scare me often, everytime I would flick off the tv, the reflection would reveal him behind me, leering. Or the laptop monitor, even the mirrors in the house were turning against me. Thirteen would sometimes wait until my back was turned, walk up behind me, and scare me shitless when I turned around again. That seemed to be his favourite trick, sneaking up on me and startling me.

My mom started noticing how skittish I was getting, and forced me to see my psychiatrist again. I was placed back on anxiety medication; not that I took it much. It wasn't anxiety hunting me down, afterall.

One night in October, I decided to go for a walk along the 5 acre of property we owned. It was late and dark, so I brought a flashlight and my cellphone out with me, as well as a knife because I was a bit paranoid. Looking back on it, I wonder what compelled me to go into the forest in the middle of the night.

It was calm at first, peaceful. No sign of my friends out here, or anything else that might follow me home. I reached the top of the hill, where the forest forked off into three paths. From the path leading into the darker part of the woods, I heard an odd moaning sound.

The noise started off a far ways away, and I presumed it to be an animal. But it started getting closer, a low, haunting moan. Whatever it was had spotted me, and was coming. I hauled ass up the hill even further, afraid to turn back in case it followed me home. Through the corner of my eye I could see something darting alongside me in the forest, matching my pace.

When I reached the end of our property, I stopped to take a breather. Everything was quiet, and then behind me, the groaning erupted again. I didn't turn around, terrified of what I might see. Instead, I turned my flashlight off, and crawled into the hollow log nearby. What else could I do but hide?

I was stuck there until dawn, when whatever it was finally shambled off into the forest. I decided to name it Shambles, and I wasn't ever coming down here at night again, ever. Picking myself up, I hurried my way back up to the house, and to the living room. None of my friends were around right now, so I sat back and watched some tv, doodled some images of Thirteen.

My sketchbook began to fill up with him, everywhere. Every page, Thirteen, Thirteen, Thirteen. I don't know why, but it was intrusive, I was compelled to focus my energy on drawing him to the very last page.

Through December my family was around more often, as the holidays approached. Funnily enough, I bought my friends presents. One each, and placed them on the shelf near my bed. I told them they weren't to touch the gifts until Christmas, and they seemed to humour me. Thursday wasn't interested in the gifts, or anything at all really, as usual. Tuesday seemed excited, and Thirteen was just....Himself.

Things quieted down when Christmas arrived, my friends did not show up during the day. I was disappointed, to be honest, but what could I do?

I didn't see Thirteen again until January of the next year. He was a bit different, trading in his grin for a scowl again. That scared me, since last time he had done some awful things when he got like this. And I was right to be afraid, as he became abusive once more.

Terribly so. Thirteen would spend hours whispering to me about how worthless I was, and throw me into a dysphoria so bad that I nearly killed myself because I couldn't see the point in life anymore. The feeling is hard to describe. It's as if you're completely numb, almost psychotic, nodding and agreeing with this monster as it put you down.

All too often I would sit in the shower, knife pressed to my neck, whilst Thirteen egged me on. It was a tough time that almost sent me back to the psych ward, but Thirteen warned me if I went, he would hurt my family. So I hid my impulses, and began cutting my upper arms. To this day I have the deep scars to show for this time.

I think Thirteen prides himself on those scars, as if to say that they were proof that he owned me. His possession, his pet. Around February, I began to have very graphic, vulgar dreams of Thirteen violating me in a number of situations.

Unnerving, really, because I was unsure if I really was being taken by this creature. The experiences felt very real, I'd always wake up in a cold sweat, eyes wide, unable to go back to sleep. Thirteen obviously relished this, grinning, watching me from the opposite side of the room. Satisfied with himself, smug, it pissed me off quite a bit.

I can't tell you how many of the dreams I had, I lost track, and I'm not going to go into detail about them, as I'm sure most of you would cringe. And before you ask, no, it wasn't loving, or caring, or some special relationship.

It was just cruel, and terrifying, and painful. Even more so that I couldn't do anything to prevent Thirteen from doing whatever he wanted to when I slept. I started staying up as often as possible, abusing prescription drugs to accomplish days without sleep. I'd come to find out it wouldn't matter anyways.

To be continued.