I take my pills and after i do so, the memory of my father tries once more to cut through my life.
YOU NO GOOD WHORE! my father had yelled.
my mother had begged and cried but had done nothing to help herself. A gash of crimson blood spilled from deep within her leg and onto the floor.
mommy!! My five year old self cried in the shadows of the room, helpless.
The meat cleaver cut throgh the scream swollen air and...
stop.
my eyes compress untill they feel as if they would fall out of my head. My finger nails are driven into my palm. no, i tell myself. no no no. it didnt happen.
Opening my eyes, I force myself to focus upon the geography of my new home - my first one, rather. I take pride in what ive done and congradulate my self for being able to set the house up in such a magnifisant way, dispite my self not having experiance. I think of each peaice of furneture and remember how i obtained it. I think of every detail, even the boring parts. with the matter of firneture being the central part of my mind as opposed to a memory of a non exising event, I feel safe enough to continue on to my bed.
Turning off the light, I step from the kitchen and grope my way through my home, for witch is engulfed by darkness. I find my self at the bedroom door.
YOU ARE READING
At the foot of my bed
HorrorSuffering from PTSD by day and plagued by night terrors and insomnia during the suns hiding hours, 21 year old Noah smith is finally gifted with a few hours of restful sleep. However in the midst of this, a noise from within his new home awakes him...
