Trapped 2

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Trapped

I don’t know what’s real anymore. Reality is slipping. The lines of fact and fiction are blurring.

Maybe I should end it all, I have one bullet left. The only thing that’s stopping me is fear of what’s on the other side, oblivion or hell.

And the visions, the fucking visions. I see their faces every time I close my eyes: my mom, my dad, and my best friends. They’re all dead.

The pounding on the door isn’t helping me either. It says it can help, but I don’t believe it. The thing is a monster, or a demon, or some sort of hellish creature and it is the foundation of lies. It is my pursuer and my madness.

I have no idea if it’s real or some nightmare from the deepest recesses of my mind. I don’t want to die, but death may be better than demise from this creature.

I am writing this story to preserve myself if death or insanity be my fortune. And if it is, at least someone will know my agony. This creature crept into my life when I was 3.

I remember I said, there were monsters in the closet and my mother said, “It’s just your imagination.” I never believed her because I knew there was something there; patiently waiting to attack, as I drifted off into sleep.

The doors opened and it came out. Its flesh was in a melted form. Its eyes were hollow sockets with a yellow glow within. The eyes stared through me, into my very soul.

I was terrified. I hid under the covers, but that was no help because I knew he was there staring with those damned eyes. It happed again and again. Days turned into months, and months turned into years. My torment seemed eternal.

As the years progressed, he got closer. When I was about 5, one night he began hovering over me and I couldn’t take it anymore. That was when the screaming started. It got so bad that my parents couldn’t take it. They had my room soundproofed.

When I was ten they took me to a psychiatrist to talk about my “problems”. My “hallucinations” as Doctor Frank called them, were getting worse. I began to see it during the day, lurking behind my teacher’s desk, in the woods by the playground, he was everywhere. My waking hours were plagued by this poltergeist and my dreams were my personal hell.

On my thirteenth birthday, no one came. I guess no one wants to be friends with someone who is crazy. When my parents went to get the cake and presents, he came out of a dark corner and dragged me by my collar. The door flung open at his touch and he dragged me into the woods, then I blacked out.

The next day my parents found me, two miles away curled up in a ditch. My memory was fractured, so we went to see my psychiatrist. To help with the “hallucinations” he prescribed me some crazy pills saying that the schizophrenia had progressed far enough to be in need of medication.

I took the pills. They didn’t work but I lied and said they did.

Today when I went to school he closely followed me everywhere. Where I was he was, no one could see him but I. Upon my arrival the day had become weird, he stopped following me. Instead, he started to follow my friends.

I went to meet up with my friend Nick before first period; I hadn’t seen him since I got to school. He was standing behind Nick with his hands on Nick’s throat. He raked his clawed hand across Nick’s neck, blood poured out from the wound in a cascade. Then Nick’s body dropped like a ragdoll.

I started to run but he pursued me, I had to get out before he killed again, I knew he was toying with me he wanted to torment me until I begged for death. I saw my four other friends running in my direction they were the only people that mattered to me in this world.

“We need to leave” I said.

Before I even finished this statement the alarm bells sounded, all the doors closed and locked. We were out here trapped with this monster alone. All we had was each other.

We backed into a dark corner by the front door and tried to stay quiet; he emerged out of the darkness and slaughtered all of my friends. This unseen terror destroyed them leaving nothing but cold corpses in its path.

The blood, oh god the blood, it was everywhere and I was covered in it. Shaking I sank down to my knees and started sobbing uncontrollably. I had to leave now!

I grabbed a book that was lying on the floor and hurled it at the window and with a crash it flew through. I jumped through the window and ran home. I ran up the driveway and put my key into the lock as fast as I could. The door flew open and I ran inside and slammed the bolt home.

I bolted upstairs into my parent’s room and found them lying on their beds with a bullet in each of their eyes. This was no time for tears I told myself. I went over to the nightstand and pulled out the six-shooter revolver and locked myself in my room, hiding in the corner crying.

The door was moving in and out as if the house was breathing. The door would soon break and my end would be upon me. The voice of the monster spoke in a raspy tone. “I only want to talk. Please open the door.”

I caressed the revolver in my arms, knowing I had one bullet. The door broke violently and splinters rained down to the floor. I put the gun next to my head and pulled the trigger.

There was darkness falling, falling, falling. There is no light at the end of the tunnel just emptiness. In death there is nothing.

A bright blinding light appeared in my sight and I woke. All I could see was white. As things started to come into focus, I realized I was staring at a tiled ceiling.

Confused, I tried to move, but I was restrained, I looked down and I saw that my hands and feet had leather straps on them. And on the wall was a mirror, I saw myself. I was half of a whole, A husk of what I had once been. My head was bandaged, and one eye was covered from the linen.

Then I noticed something strange; a figure was standing there. Then it all came back to me. I must have fucked up again because I can’t even kill myself. I realized where I must be. I was in the midst of a mental asylum.

A doctor walked in. He seemed shocked to see that I was awake. He ran over to my side and asked, “Do you know what you did?”

I said that I tried to kill myself.

“No, you killed your parents and 5 other people.”

“No, I didn’t!” I screamed. I then pointed at the mirror.

“He did.”

I looked in the mirror and the thing tied down in the bed was the monster.

Credit To – Case Bosma

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