Mirrors (Haunted)

2

I didn't think after the shower incident couldn't get any worse.

I thought wrong.

From then on, I hated being alone. Mostly because I didn't feel alone. I could feel a pair of grotesque eyes watching my every move. Even my showers became quick and less frequent. I had to awkwardly change with my towel on because I could feel a pair of eyes burning into my skin. I could even feel the presents of someone watching me change. It was disgusting. I could easily picture a greasy man with dark, oily hair and a wicked grin curled over his chapped licks. Sometimes I could feel him watching me dress and undress from the corner of the room; and sometimes it felt like his eyes were studying my skin just inches away from me. I half expected to feel the warm breath of someone to tickle me at any second.

No matter how violated I felt, I kept my mouth shut. How could I explain such a perverted thing to my family anyway? It was all too awful for me. And whatever this was, it was feeding off of me. It was like a shadow. It followed me around that house all damn day. I never realized how much it became invested in my life until it became very comfortable with me and my shut mouth.

I recall one day I passed my stepdad's office that he never used. The door was open, and I noticed a red light blinking on the answering machine. No one ever used it, so it stuck my curiosity. As I walked in, it became clear that only 1 message was waiting to be listened to. I sat on the leather chair and pressed play. All it displayed was static noise, close to the sound of someone butt-dialing. I pursed my lips to the side and reached out to press delete, but froze in my tracks when I heard a voice. It was cracked and whispered, so much I couldn't believe what I even heard.

"...Laurissa...."

My name.

It knows my fucking name.

I sat there with my jaw dropped, feeling goosebumps trickle down my arms. I shook my head, and relayed the message over and over again. But there was no doubting it. That was my name. It was said so sinister like, so awfully and eerily: I never wanted to hear my name spoken again. I deleted the message as though I was erasing it from my memory.

Though I was a quiet girl, I wanted to cry to my mother about it. But I couldn't. I would literally stare at my mother while her attention was fixed on something else, and could just imagine myself blurring out: "Something is after me."

It was like their hand was clasped over my mouth, watching me suffer with pure bliss, and feeding off of my dispare. Even as I write this now, I feel slightly dizzy as I pick out the horrific memories in my head. The feelings I felt as this monster chose me to torture. I wish now that I grew a pair and just told someone before it got out of hand.

I wondered countless times if it was just me. I was going insane.

One night proved that wrong.

I was home alone for the weekend. Mom and my step dad went out of town for the weekend and Ava was spending the night at a friends. Being the introvert that I am, I was the only one home for the night. Which should be fine. For some reason, that day didn't feel to awful. I didn't feel a pair of eyes on me all day. It felt normal. It was...

Calm.

But as they say, it's always the calm before the storm.

I retired to bed, curling up in the blankets and comfortably nuzzled my face in my pillow. It was the first time in months I actually felt brave enough to sleep with my lights off. I began to doze off, feeling like I was actually going to have a good night sleep.

That was short lived.

Through my door that was across the room was a small sound. Just enough for my eyes to blink open. I listened closely, and it grew louder. It was the sound of nails dragging on carpet. It grew louder and more distinct, like someone was digging their nails down on the carpet in the hallway as they approached my door. My breath was hitched and rapid, and I thought my heart was going to burst when the sound stopped.

It was replaced with the sound of the door opening.

The old, wooden door yawned open, slowly and eerily. I clutched my comforter until my knuckles were white. My eyes were wide open. I wanted to look so badly, but fear paralyzed my muscles. The door slamming shut is what finally made me squeak out a scream. I let out small whimpers, praying and wishing it would go away. I didn't care if it stayed in the house, just out of my room.

No footsteps were to be heard, making be believe for a spilt seconds that it was actually gone. Then, I felt it.

It was in my bed.

I felt the warmth of it slither under my covers and next to me. I held my back to it, tears brimming the corners of my eyes. I couldn't breath. I just laid there and held my breath as I listened to it's instead. It was husky and moist, like it was horribly sick. Like its entrance to my room, it's started out soft; then louder and louder. It was like it was leaning closer to me.

As if the sound of it wasn't awful enough, I felt a cold and stiff finger pull back a lock of my hair that fell on my shoulder blade, and felt it's breath on my neck. It was hot and putrid, sending a sworm of goosebumps down my spine. Its broken and sickly voice whispered so softly, I almost couldn't tell if it was real or my imagination spiraling out of control at this point.

"S...sleep now..."

Sleep was the last thing I wanted now, buddy.

I bolted out of bed, tripping over my blankets a few times as I made my get away in a panic. I nearly broke my door down as I sped out of my room and into the bathroom down the hall. I locked the door and finally screamed. I crumbled to the floor and cried because I was still able to feel it's moist breath stain my neck. I couldn't be alone now. No way in hell.

It was eleven o'clock at night. I had no friends to call, my mother would make probably call the councilor again, and Ava wouldn't hear it. The only person I could think to call was to call my cousin, Paul. Hesitant at first, I opened the bathroom door open, letting it creak open as I inspected the hallway. It was dark, only slightly illuminated by the bathroom lights behind me. Down the hall and on the right of the wall stood my open door, my room pitch black. I sucked in a deep breath and raced down to my room. I switched the light on with a trembling hand. My room now was bright, and I wanted to cover my eyes in case I saw anything. Yet thankfully, there was nothing. My bed was empty of anyone unwelcome, just my blue and white comforters a mess. Even the space on the right was empty. Not a trace of someone there. I felt myself sigh with relief. I picked my flip phone (How cool was I as a teenager?) off the nightstand.

My light bulb turned off with a simple click.

The small, but dangerous sound of it popping made me scream as I was swallowed in darkness, and I don't even remember how I got to the living room. For as someone as chunky as me at that age, I sure as as hell did run fast. I dialed for my cousin, tears streamed down my cheeks when he picked up. I begged him to come over. I didn't care that he lived 30 minutes away, he needed to get over here now. Paul had just gotten back from work and was too tired to drive over, but sympathy was tinted in his voice as he rejected my request.

"Why are you scared if it was just a nightmare?" He asked on the other line.

I laid on the leather couch, curled up in a ball of fear. "It felt so real. Please come over."

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I would but I don't even have enough gas in my car."

"...Will you at least stay on the line with me until I fall asleep?"

"Yes, that I can do."

"Thank you." I mumbled into the throw pillow, talking to Paul until my eyelids fell heavy with sleep.