The small clock on the corner of my computer screen glared mockingly at me as the numbers went higher with each passing moment, as another minute ticked by and another minute of sleep just slipping away. Small numbers read 3:58 AM, on just a regular wednesday night, just below it said 6/18/2014, letting me know that another boring, wasteful day has passed by once again. And knowing that tomorrow would just be the same thing. Endless nights, and passing days, filled with screams of laughter and happiness, along with the sounds of seemingly voiceless music trying to drown out the sounds that others could not hear, only to be bore upon me, a lonely, confused, lost, and broken child who was forced to grow up way too soon, but not fast enough.
The sounds of terror, anguish, and hatred cuts through the music, and flutters into my ears demanding to be acknowledged. I close my eyes and try to focus on the music, foolishly hoping that if I ignore them long enough that they will go away, knowing that they won't, I try anyway, as the sounds get louder, I start to sing, hoping that I will somehow manage to get them to quiet by trying to talk over them. But it doesn't work, as per usual. I get cut off in the middle of the song, because even though those sounds, those increasing voices, are still present, I feel a tickle on my leg, hoping its nothing, I brush it off and continue singing. But my ignorance is futile as the brushing feeling, starts feeling a little more real, a little heavier, and a little more like fingers dragging themselves across my ankles until the hair on my legs stand up. Knowing that what, or more presumably who has my attention, it starts to drag its hand up my legs, until it rests heavily on my thigh. By now all the hair on my body is standing on edge as this creature decides to say hi, in a more, peculiar way. I keep my eyes shut tight praying that this is all just a bad dream, and that my imagination is running wild. I held them shut thinking that if I can't see it, then it can't be real. Most people when dealing with a situation like this would open their eyes to disprove their thoughts, but not me, no, I always hated opening my eyes, because I knew, that right there in front of me would be another monster, pretending to be a human.
I had stopped screaming for help when I was 7 years old, because everyone always tried to displace the things I see by declaring that they weren't real, and that I had an overactive imagination, or that they were just nightmares. I had gotten so tired of hearing the same words that held no comfort to the terrified adult-child, who had on several occasions, touched these strange things that followed them everywhere, who had seen them hurt other people, who brushed it off as nothing, because they couldn't see what I could, hear what I could, feel what I could, and if they did, they 'just imagined it' was their explanation, and that it was nothing. But sometimes they couldn't hide the twinge of worry in their voice, or the flicker of fear that is gone as fast as it had come, that showed me that it wasn't just my imagination, if it was that at all, which I have doubted since I could remember.
The hand decides to start moving up, up my hips, my sides, and all the way up my arm and neck till its just resting gently on the side of my face, brushing some of hair off my face and behind my ear, before pausing for a moment, studying me I figure. And then by some miracle, it pulls its hand away, and the noises stop, and a glimmer of hope runs through me, that maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay for once.
I knew somewhere in me that it was to good to be true, and my thoughts were proved right as I felt the covers move, and the bed next to me dip. I prayed once again for it to just leave me alone for once but I know it won't, it never does. A pair of arms wrapped themselves around me, pulling me closer till there was no space in between us. I still haven't dared to open my eyes from where they were currently buried in the things neck, but I could feel the body pressed against mine. It had a thin, lean body, long legs, strong, but thin, arms, a kind of hallowed out neck. I could feel its every bone pressed against mine. Once again, I was feeling scared and confused. Not because of what most people would be, but because I felt safer, and more relaxed in those gangly arms. Because instead of being frightened and repulsed by them, I wanted to get lost in them, and to never leave. That was what scared me.
I know that I say I want all these sounds, voices, and everything to stop and go away, but its not because they scare me, or because they are mean and call me names and tell me to do bad things, which they do, but because of how much comfort I take in these things that others can't see, of how much better they make me feel then the human people I call my friends and family around me. Its terrible I know, to feel this way, but I can't help it, I just feel like these things care for me more then any one else ever has. I mean, they are there for me when ever I need them, and when I don't, they are always willing to listen, and they never make fun of me, or try to tell me im wrong. Yeah sure they might not be the nicest or anything, but at least they never lie to me, and they don't use me. I'm not saying nobody human are not like that, or not like that to me, I'm just saying, I have always felt safer with the creatures hiding the shadows more then the ones lurking in the day.
I feel warm breath ghost across my neck as the creature says something, and it sends a shiver running down my spine. I hadn't heard what it had said, as I was to wrapped up in my thoughts to pay attention, which probably wasn't safe, but I couldn't bring myself to care.
"I'm sorry, but what did you say?" I asked shyly, slightly afraid of the answer to come.
It chuckled softly, and if I said my heart didn't start to race, well then I was lying. "I said, what is your name?"
I blushed slightly, and whispered back "It's Sara, but you already knew that, didn't you?"
My only response was another soft chuckle, and to be pulled closer in the already impossibly close embrace. I finally forced myself to open my eyes. I was greeted with pale skin contrasting greatly with the darkness of the room, and of my blanket. I gently moved my head so that I could look at it- I mean, his, face. It was a face so familiar yet so different to me, so inviting, and so loving. Every night, he would visit and would hold me tight and ask the same question, and every day he would hang in the shadows, always there but out of sight, always on my mind, but never enough for me to catch him. When he first started the pattern, I used to ask him why, why he would do this, why the same question, why his smile always seemed so relieved when I answer with my name. Its like he knows something I don't know, like hes trying to hide something from me, but whenever I feel like I am starting to get close to finding out, he kisses my forehead, and its gone, everything I thought I had figured out just vanishes, and then we play the waiting game again. Me waiting to find the answers again, and him to erase them, and it's a cycle that will play on, and on, and on.
Sometimes, I think it's best I don't know what ever it is he is trying to hide, that maybe its so terrifying, and he just doesn't want me to have to remember, or go through it. But then sometimes, I don't think its fair for him to keep it from me, sometimes, my curiosity gets the best of me, and then I become angry annoyed with him. But he somehow always manages to make me relax, and to settle my curiosity for the time being, until the next time I have a question, or the next time I get upset. And then I remember just how come, I don't scream, or run, it's because, I don't want to. Because somehow, along the way, I fell in love with this mysterious man, who isn't quite human, but who isn't quite a monster either.
I move and hit the once forgotten computer. I pull myself up and look at the clock which now states that it is currently 6:30 AM, and the sunlight streaming through the window confirms that, as I groan and shut my computer before putting on the floor and settling myself in bed, still not having been to bed. I knew it was going to be at least another 2 hours before I fall asleep, and I know that by the time, he will be gone, leaving me with all the sounds of the world, and all the unheard sounds in the shadows. Until night falls, and I am once again, edged on with fear and adrenaline of the night ahead.