When The Darkness Arrives

Chapter 2

Of course, this isn't where my story began. My family used to always sit around the table for dinner and talk about our days. Now that I think about it, I always hated when my family wanted to know every detail of my day, I now realize how selfish I was. I was lucky to have someone who cared enough to want to know about how I'm feeling and about my day. No one cares about how I feel or how my day was, not anymore. I feel worse about my little brother, because by the time he's in middle school, he will vaguely remember what it felt like to have parents who care. I'm sure he will barely be able to remember moms voice.

I still remember her screaming my name, the day we swerved off of the road on that dark snowy night. Everyone thought we just hit a patch of black ice, but I'm the only one who actually knows the details about why we were in that accident. If you stick around, maybe I'll share them with you.

Let's go back a few years so you can understand my story more clearly.

Back when I was in elementary school, I wouldn't sleep for days, upon days. My parents figured it was just nightmares, and told me to go to sleep because nothing could hurt me.

Boy, were they wrong.

I was bruised and scratched, I had things, people pulling my hair and telling me to keep them a secret, and they told me if I didn't keep them a secret they would hurt my parents. Of course I decided not to tell anyone. I mean, they would go away with time, right?

Wrong.

I could only see them at night, and never heard or seen them once during the day.

It took me a few years to realize they weren't living, or perhaps they were just all in my head. That didn't describe the unusual shaped bruises up and down my arms and legs, but I thought nothing of it.

Until one night, one of them stepped ahead of all of the others. He had pale skin, almost paper white, and black hair that hung just past his eyes, and his body was overly thin, I'm sure you could see his spine and rib cage, without him even having to suck in.

I remember him sweeping his hair away from his face to reveal that there were no whites of his eyes.

Just pure black.

Ten year old me, just tried to close my eyes and wish them away.

Instead of them leaving, I felt the pale mans hand fasten around my neck, and I soon didn't have my airway open. I clawed at his hand and tried to call out for someone. Anyone.

I pushed his arm, but he just remained with his hand tight around my neck. Eventually I was yanked off of my bed and was being choked, my feet not even touching the floor.

If my mom hadn't had come in, there is a good chance I wouldn't be here writing you. I remember the horror in her eyes as I hit the ground; she ran towards me, and I was still shocked from what that man had done to me, that I didn't even care if my mom saw as the warm tears rolled down each of my cheeks.

"Alice, what happened?" She said, and as I sat up, I felt her cold hand touch my neck, right where the mans hand had been just moments ago. Remembering the treat that my night time "friends" had given me, and replied with a quick

"Just fell off my bed."

"You have a hand mark on your neck. Don't lie to me, Alice May." She demanded, giving me a look of concern. Damn, she pulled the "full name" card. You know, when your parents say your full name, you know you need to fess up or you'd be in deep shit.

I sighed and shifted my weight, still sitting on the floor. I looked up at her deep green eyes, and I couldn't handle keeping it inside anymore. I told her everything, about how it wasn't nightmares that kept me up all night, and how I'm not alone at night, I told her about how they threatened to hurt her or dad, if I told, I also told her how the man had tried to choke the life out of me. I didn't stop telling her until the very end of what I had to say and I must say it felt great to get that off of my shoulders and out into the open.

The look on her face told me that she would have preferred to hear anything other than that, but still she pulled me in for a hug and said,

"Come and sleep with us tonight, okay? We'll keep you safe, and tomorrow we can schedule an appointment with the doctor, we'll get this all worked out, you'll be okay. I promise" and she pulled away, and gave me a light kiss on my forehead. I smiled and got to my feet, still unsteady from losing so much oxygen at once, and followed my mother out of my room, only stopping to turn off the light. That night, I got no new bruises or scratches over my body, and I must say I was relieved to get a bit of sleep for once in a very long time.

Just as I had expected from the doctor; he told me it was probably just my brain developing and it's my own way of having imaginary friends.

But he didn't understand that they weren't my friends and he didn't believe me when I told him I nearly got killed the night before by one of them. I mean, I don't blame him, I was only ten, and I couldn't even count how many ten year olds lie. What the doctor said seemed to be a good enough explanation for my parents, and they seemed to listen to the doctor more than their own daughter. I was sleeping in my own room that night. I don't blame my parents for listening to the doctor. I mean, a doctor has more knowledge than a ten year old. There was still so much that my parents didn't know and now I wasn't sure if I'd ever get the chance to tell them without them believing its just my "brain development."

The doctor was wrong. They aren't my friends, they don't just come to keep me company, and they are going to hurt me.

Not only did they hurt me, they hurt someone who was very close to me and that I loved very much.

My mother.