My parents never believed me when I was 2, when I would wake them in a state of hysteria, trembling and covered in sweat. Instead, they put me back to bed.
My parents never believed me when I was 5, when I would frantically try to explain the incomprehensible noises I heard coming from underneath my floor. Instead, they told me it was the sound of the floorboards shifting with the wind.
My parents never believed me when I was 7, when I relayed to them the messages the voices would say to me. Instead, they told me I just needed some more sleep.
My parents never believed me when I was 9, when I would wake up with cuts on my arms and legs and chunks of hair pulled out of my head. Instead, they told me it was something I merely did in my sleep.
My parents never believed me when I was 12, when I made eye contact with a grinning creature in my doorway, never breaking it for what seemed like hours until he slowly shut my door. Instead, they told me it was my imagination.
I never believed my parents when I was 15, when their screams pierced the air like knives, turning from terror into pain. Instead, I told myself it was only the wind. Perhaps my imagination. Maybe I just needed more sleep?
Thinking back, I only remember one thing: I was smiling.
YOU ARE READING
Warning: Don't read before you sleep.
HorrorIf you like creepy and scary stories, this is the book for you... Prepare to be scared enough that you won't be able to sleep. The haunted ghouls and evil objects are looming over you right now. Don't look behind you! You might just find something y...
