TRIGGER WARNING: MENTAL ILLNESSES AND SELF HARM MENTIONED AS WELL AS SUICIDE!!!!
"What if i help you battle your demons?" He said
"What if they are to much?" She looked away knowing they were closing in.
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(Pic above is Amber)
Amber's apartment was engulfed in an eerie silence as she stood frozen in front of the window, her breath catching in her throat. The pale moonlight cast an otherworldly glow on her surroundings, creating long shadows that seemed to dance ominously across the room. The man outside remained a mysterious silhouette, a dark figure against the dimly lit night.
As her doorbell rang loudly, the sudden noise shattered the stillness, and Amber recoiled in terror. Her eyes darted away from the window to the source of the disturbance. The shaking girl stole a quick glance back at the window, half expecting the mysterious figure to have vanished. "I knew it was a figment of my imagination," she sighed, trying to convince herself that what she saw was not real.
Reluctantly tearing her gaze away from the window, Amber walked towards the door. The loud creaking of the floorboards beneath her seemed to echo through the silent apartment, adding to the tension in the air. With a deep breath, she opened the door, only to be greeted by a sight that sent shivers down her spine.
Before her stood a small boy, clad in tattered and blood-stained clothes. His tear-streaked face revealed the pain and confusion of a child lost and abandoned. "Mommy, why did you leave me?" he whimpered, tugging at Amber's heartstrings.
"S-Sutton?" she stuttered, her disbelief evident in her wide eyes. "Why—how are you here right now? You're..." Her words trailed off as a sudden crash emanated from the kitchen, a sound that hinted at an intruder breaking into her sanctuary.
"Don't go in there," the boy warned, his demeanor shifting abruptly. Horror painted Amber's face as she struggled to comprehend the unfolding nightmare. "What's in there?" she managed to stammer, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
The imposter child, with a twisted and sinister smile, urged her to play outside. "Come on, mommy, let's go play outside," he chirped, tugging forcefully at her hand. Fear gripped Amber as she resisted, attempting to maintain composure. "No, sweetie, it's late. Little boys should be in bed. Come on now, let's get you to bed," she pleaded, her words a feeble attempt to resist the sinister force at play.
"NO, MOMMY, I WANNA PLAY!" The boy's voice deepened suddenly, and he pulled harder at her arm. The force caused Amber to fall to the floor outside her apartment, her world crumbling around her. Someone—or something—was in her home, and the apparition of her deceased son tormented her senses.
"YOU ARE NOT REAL!" she screamed, the anguish and fear echoing through the empty corridor.
"Oh, but I am," the imposter responded, staring at her with an evil and sinister gaze. And then, without warning, he jumped.
"NO!" Amber screamed once more, jolting awake in a cold sweat. Rubbing her tired, sleep-crusted eyes, she glanced at the clock, squinting at the red numbers marking 1:15 am—the time her son had been pronounced dead on the scene.
Her heart raced as the remnants of the nightmare lingered. A glass of water would help, she thought, attempting to shake off the haunting images that clung to her consciousness.
As she made her way down the hallway, the echoes of the dream reverberated in her mind. "Don't go in there," the warning of her son echoed, the memory haunting her every step. A crash in the kitchen jolted her awake, and she turned the corner, wielding a baseball bat in a trembling hand.
The bat dropped from her grip as she beheld a dark figure sitting on the counter. "What the hell are you?" she demanded, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and confusion. The figure looked up, wearing a mask with a perpetual smile.
"Yes, I'm that little voice you ignored, but you see, I'm no longer small; I was never small," it hissed, creeping towards her. Amber felt a surge of panic, her heart pounding, breath quickening. It was then that she realized—this figure was her anxiety personified.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," it rasped, seemingly reading her thoughts.
"You are not real—you're ju—"
"Just in your head?" it interrupted, now standing over her, locking eyes. She closed her eyes, anticipating the unknown.
Time seemed to blur as she felt a gentle shake on her arm, pulling her back to consciousness. "Hey, Amber, come on, wake up," a voice urged, and as she groaned in pain, she opened her eyes to see her boyfriend Joshua, his worried expression a stark contrast to the nightmare that had gripped her moments before.
