The Story You Don't Know

"I padded across the room, gingerly, almost afraid to scare him away. Over time, my curiosity had grown. Who was he, no, what was he? I was dying to know but almost afraid to find out. I did not even want to think of all the sinister things my imagination could cook up.

"What are you?"

I reached out a tentative hand towards him. My voice was barely a whisper, but it was the loudest sound in the eerie silence of the night.

And then he was gone, fading from my touch like smoke. I dropped my outstretched arm as if I'd just been burnt. That night, I found myself standing there in the middle of my room, shrouded in shadows, musing. For when I reached out earlier, I could have sworn I'd touched a solid, warm, living body."

-

11 March 2016, Friday

I know I'm a gone case. It doesn't help that everyone in my life reminds me of it.

I try my best; I try not to be careless and forgetful, I try to study, practise my piano, be a good kid, but I still get nagged at so much by my parents. There's no room for defence - I'll just be accused of talking back and get into more trouble if I try to clarify myself. I wonder if any other kids have it like this too? Probably just me.

And in school, I try my very best to make myself as small and unnoticeable as possible, to make myself invisible. And yet, the first thing I hear when I walk into the class this morning, and every other morning for all that matter, is the same sarcastic voice. "Oh look, Freak's here."

They pick apart everything about me, from my hair to the acne on my face to my smile and the sound of my voice. Your bangs are so oily. The pimples on your face are disgusting, do you even wash your face? Your smile is so gummy. Your voice is so shrill and squeaky. Everyday there's something new about me for them to judge and criticise. And they laugh it off and say it's just a joke when I glare at them. They'll ask me to smile for my besties, and I'll force a smile and pretend their words never hurt me. They're people I love and care about, but why do they hurt me so much? I'd jump to save them but they won't bat an eye at talking me down.

Then again, I have no one else to confide to, no other friends in school. I'm afraid of everyone else. Everyone around me used to be my friend. They all turned on me. It's funny how you can lose everything overnight and never gain it back. When the teasing crosses that fine line between acceptable and making your life a living hell. Kids can be cruel, naively cruel. Years ago, they took all of me, and I've never found me back.

It's been years, but I still walk with my head down, face shielded behind a curtain of bangs meant to divide and hide me from the world. It's been years, but I can't look into someone's eyes or hold someone's gaze. Can't talk to someone new without my mind racing, wondering for what reason they'll suddenly start hating me for, just like everyone else.

Sometimes, I want to pick up and take off, run far far away, but I don't know where I'd go. So many and so little places to run, no matter how far I run I can't run from my demons.

-

"He was late.

I waited. I began to miss the familiar presence I'd grown strangely accustomed to. I tossed and I turned. The dark was too dark, shadows swallowing up everything in the room like black flames. I couldn't make out any form in the shadows. It was so hot that night, the heat waves rolling over my body, making me sweat.

And then, the dark got darker and the heat got hotter. I writhed like a snake on hot coals. My clothes clung to me. I gasped for breath, feeling suffocated.

I slowly became aware of other sound around me. A thousand voices clamouring in a language I didn't understand. Other voices, chanting. Louder and louder, echoing in my hears. I felt an instinctive need to escape. I struggled but couldn't feel my body.

And then the screaming started. Desperate, agonized cries that only got louder by the second.

My eyes flew open.

The morning sun filtered through my blinds, casting shadows that played on the walls in time to the swaying of trees outside. Birds chirped their morning songs, but the screams of my harrowing dream still rang in my ears.

He didn't come after all."