There’s a man in my room

It happened again; I thought it was over. Is there a world where I live in peace? Not struggle with memories, just fade into oblivion? Is this my life?

The room was dark and it felt empty, it looked empty even; I had little to my name and nothing I had was ever truly mine. I moved out of our family home when I had no idea where to go but Lord knows I had had it. I had spent all my life moving from one hospital to another, referred to more psychologists than I could possibly remember but the problem still lingered. What was wrong with me? I was a perfect kid, I had no priors, straight A student and a beautiful boy; everyone loved me but I didn’t like me. I didn’t like who I became at night, when he showed up; he controlled me and I felt weak and useless and a joke.

Everyone knew the bright, confident kid and everyone loved who he was, what he stood for but only I knew the coward hiding away from the crowd; hidden behind the crowd’s opinion. I was a phony and no one knew this but me. It all began when school was over and we walked back, took the same route we always did; my friends and I fancied walking around the block and chatting and laughing, we couldn’t get that in the bus, not with everyone staring, wanting to get in on the conversation. In our defense, school was a couple of blocks away and we lived close to each other, made no sense to waste the trip riding along in a school bus.

It was just like any other day, we would meet on the park right behind the school, take a few runs at each other and just sit and talk. Then, when we felt we had had enough, we’d start to walk home. It was easy to lose track of time lost in conversation but seeing our mothers lined up at the bus stop every time was both sweet and unnerving. They couldn’t break our bond, we tried to keep them happy, show up early in time for dinner but we loved spending the time together and they knew it. I took my mum’s hand as she led me away and it felt warm and wet even, I laughed cuz I knew she must have been busy with dinner when she heard another mum call out; I see them. I didn’t care to ask her but she told me anyway; your dad is mad and you know what he’s going to say. Try not to be late next time, I understand how much you love your friends but can you think about us too? Maybe, on your walks?

I nodded and said ‘I’d think about it, mum shrugged and let go of my hand but I held on still, wasn’t letting her go so easily. She was my bestfriend and my only confidant, didn’t like dad much, maybe because he wasn’t my real dad but I cherished everything he had given us and it helped to think of him as my dad, every once in a while. I didn’t know much of my real dad, he was never really in the picture and mum preferred to keep it that way. We walked up the stairs and into the house, washed my hands and got right to helping set the table for dinner. I saw him but he wouldn’t speak, he only gave me a look which warned, if this happened again, I would be sorry. I took the warning and ate supper in peace.

Later that night, I bid mum and dad good night, entered my room and closed the door shut. I was ready for a good night’s rest, so I climbed into bed and shut my eyes. I couldn’t have been too far gone because I heard a twig snap right outside my window, I brushed it off and thought I could drift right back to sleep but I was wrong. I heard someone climb up the window and into my room, at that point I was too scared to call for help; I was sleepy and imagined this was just a dream, a really bad dream. I rubbed my eyes and got my glasses off the reading table and that’s when I saw him; a grotesque figure of a man, standing right there; watching from a distance.

What do I do? Scream for help? What if he hurt me? What if he just wanted to talk to me? Too many questions with little time to think, I quickly grabbed my shirt, panting as I did. Run past the hallway and into my mum’s room, I knocked impatiently and screamed, ‘there’s a man in my room’.