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It's here again. That goddamn thing. I HATE it. It won't go away. If you're reading this, you are probably confused, so I guess I'll write from the beginning before the door breaks down and I'm done.
About a week ago, I was at school. Normal day. I'm a small kid. Weak. But I'm intelligent. That morning my parents had a big fight, so I couldn't concentrate that day at all. I went throughout the day not talking. My friend Jake confronted me, but I blew him off.
"I'm fine, Jake, just a bit tired. Insomnia came back."
"Okay, whatever you say dude, see you later."
My insomnia hadn't come back, but I wasn't going to tell him the truth. He can get annoying trying to help things that can't be helped.
I went through the day just fine. Quiet, but fine. Until gym. We were playing volleyball. I asked to sit, but apparently it "helps" to get active when you're sad. I had to try hard not to call B.S. on that. I just stood in the back corner, I already sucked with my mind on the game. Apparently, that was a bad choice. Jamie, the team captain, spiked the ball right into my face. I was out cold. It wasn't the ball, but the impact with the ground that put me down for the count.
I woke up four hours later in a hospital bed. Mild concussion, nothing they couldn't fix. Jake was of course the only one there besides my mom. He's my only friend in this hopeless world.
"Hey, Hayes are you alright?"
"Fine dude, just banged up."
I'm not fine you idiot, I have a concussion! Still, his heart's in the right place. When the doctor walked in, I began screaming. Then I was back out. Guess I exerted myself. But the doctor, she had roach arms! I know it seems stupid, but roaches freak me the fuck out. And you would scream too if the lady trying to medicate you had roach arms. I woke up to the same doctor, but now her arms were normal.
"Why did you have those arms?"
I asked, groggy from the sleep medicine they apparently gave me to calm me down.
"What? My arms aren't any different than anyone else's. Are you okay? Are you dizzy?"
"STOP LYING!" I yelled angrily.
She knew what I meant, I saw it in her expression, her eyes. Her EYES. That's when I noticed she had bug eyes.
I said to my mom, "I'm ready to go home now."
That's when my mom told me I had a babysitter that night. She had to "go to a meeting". I accepted and didn't argue, didn't want the doctor to make me stay.
That night I told the sitter (not too bright, she just sat and watched the Kardashians) I was going to sleep and not to bother me. She turned to tell me okay and now SHE had the roach arms, eyes, and a full on ROACH HEAD. I ran, assuming I was seeing things. I stepped in my dark room and heard crackling. I switched the light on apprehensively, and the room was an ocean of roaches. I closed my eyes, and opened them to a clean room. I decided sleep would be good.
I woke up and for the next five days, nothing happened. I would sometimes hear the crackling, but I brushed it off. That afternooon I walked home and came in to my parents sitting on the couch. I walked over to say hi when I realized that they had been eaten from the chest down. I went ballistic. I knew immediately it was the roach thing, who else? Then I found a note on the table. I didn't know to open it or not. I decided to open just to see.
How in the hell did it know my name?
"I have been watching you quite closely. Those roaches were in essence just like you said. In your mind. But I put them in the real world where only you could see. That impact was supposed to crack your skull, and eventually kill you. But I saved you. But you were so ingrateful, just whining about how, 'oh a concussion, it hurts so bad' 'no you idiot, I'm not fine, I have a concussion!' You are ingrateful. Now I plan on torturing you. Making you grateful for what I gave you until I finally take it away."
Holy shit, was this the worst, or was it going to get worse? How long would he torture me?
"By this time, my friend is probably halfway up the stairs." I heard scurrying "If you are downstairs, I suggest you run to your room." I ran and locked the door once I was in. "That is all I will inform you, toodles." Then I heard the scratching. And that's where I am now, locked in my room waiting for it to end. I'm hungry. The window is jammed. I guess I'll sign off, the door is cracking. Sorry if you're expecting me to go fight it. All I can do is close my eyes and hope someone finds this note. If you did, then run. The thing will probably wait for a new victim. It will take the form of your greatest fear. Run now before you enter my insanity.