Is it all in my head?

All in my head Pt. 1

I wake to the sound of the creaky door. The pungent stench of cigarettes wafts through the air. His shadow creates a stretched out long black void as he stands in the doorway blocking the light. He clears his throat loudly, then turns his back to me and walks slowly out of the door.

Looks like he’s back, because you’re too much of a coward to stop it.

All day I dread this part of the night, it creeps into my thoughts as I go about my day. The feelings of anxiety never ceasing, years and years pass and it still keeps happening. You think the old man would get bored, that he would find someone else to shame, torture, and ruin their lives instead.

You should feel guilty for wishing this upon someone else.

I wince, feeling guilty at the thought.

Peering around the room, I ensure that my sister is still sleeping. Her soft breaths fill the small room comfortingly. As if she is silently ensuring me that it will all be ok. At least she’s oblivious to what is happening.

My body feels like it’s made of stone. I strain to make my way out of my bed. Now on my feet, I scramble to the living room where he will be waiting for me impatiently. He’s always sitting in the same exact spot. Smoking his off-brand cigarettes and putting them out on the couch.

Mother would go ballistic if she witnessed this bastard burning holes in her brand new couch.

“Took you long enough, now come here, Harlow.” Angrily he says holding out his hand as if I am going to take it. He motions me closer growing more impatient every second I don’t move.

My heavy legs don’t want to move properly. I drag my feet. Forcing them forward, slowly making my way around the couch, trying not to make a sound. I edge closer but just out of reach of his dirty, translucent hand. I raise my eyes to meet his. Seeming satisfied he drops his hand with a loud thud against the couch, sending a small cloud of ash into the air. A disturbing smile spreads across his face like spilled paint, revealing his broken rotten teeth.

“I’ve got an extra special decision for you to make today.” The old man says shifting in his seat with excitement.

His sickening grins sends shivers down my back. Goosebumps careen down my body, hitting me in a wave. The acid in my stomach starts to creep up my throat. Coughing slightly in hopes to push it back down.

“Well what is it that I have to do this time?” I ask hesitantly, wringing my hands until they are devoid of blood.

He stands up slowly, towering over me. He puts his heavy, grubby hand on my shoulder, The weight is too much. It’s too much. He is asserting his power, holding me in place so I couldn’t move.

His touch always make me feel like there is impending doom. The feeling that I could drop dead right this second and finally get release. As if sensing my thoughts he tightens his grip, pinching my skin between the folds of my shirt. I wince at the feeling, He seems pleased.

“Tonight you are going to choose...” He starts slowly. The uncomfortable grip tightens on me even more. “Which siblings gets the punishment. It is going to be you choosing.

Your baby sister stays up all night crying.. the noise won’t stop and it disturbs everyone. I know your brother has been wetting his bed. Which one will be punished? Which one is going to wake up and see your face as you are ripping their nails out one by one?”

Gasping at his words, I am horrified. He lets out a disturbing laugh. He releases his grip on me, reaching into his pockets. I recoil with disgust, knowing what will happen if I refuse to choose. Knowing that it won’t do any good for any of us for me not.

Slowly removing his hands from his pocket he brings a set of pliers with them. He makes a gesture for me to take them, like he’s offering a me a treat, trying to silently coax me into his sick game. I hold my hands out shakily, he drops them into my hands. The weight is surprising, I grasp at them trying not to drop them. The metal is cool and rough, rusted in areas. Attempting to open them, I try to pull the two handles apart, failing. I try again, opening and closing them a few times successfully loosing them up.

These rusted pliers are going to make doing this disgusting task more difficult.

He did it on purpose, wanting you to suffer more than you already are. Maybe you deserve it for not doing a damn thing to stop this. Instead you cower away, and feel sorry for yourself.

The voice in my head likes always remind me how useless I am. It seems to be getting worse.

“Are you done wasting my time?” He says impatiently looking at me like I am an idiot.

I can feel the blood rush to my face, feeling embarrassed. Why he is making me feel like this when it is obviously wrong. Am I scared to disappoint him?

“You know you don’t have a lot of time and if you don’t get this done you will have to start all over tomorrow night, only this time I will be choosing.”

Fear washes over me, draining the color from my skin as it makes it’s way down my body. I feel the heat of fear running down my legs and creating a puddle on the floor.

Looking down embarrassed, being grateful that it is dark so he can’t see the puddle grow as I stand there, briefly paralyzed. He examines me too closely, eyes veering down the length of my small body. Startled that he might see the mess I’ve made. I move quickly to turn towards the hall. It seems to be stretching the distance with every step I take. Growing longer and drawing out the inevitable.

Beady eyes burning a hole in my back. Watching me suspiciously. His eyes, always watching, feeding off the fear and pain that bleeds from my body with every task. He gets off on the pain, the suffering, the cries, the blood. I can feel it every time, like he’s physically draining something from my body.

My small hand doesn’t look real to me as I reach for the handle to my brothers room. Grabbing and twisting the knob, Wishing I finally had the courage to fight, to say no! To protect my family once and for all.

The door opens silently. The moonlight casting in from the window illuminates the room in a blue haze. It makes everything look softer, more comfortable. A stretched out shadow appears along the floor growing bigger. I look to see that it is an owl, that has perched on a post, eyes bearing into mine.

The owl even knows what you’re doing is wrong..

I shake the thought away and try to focus. I have clear view of the path as I inch my way slowly towards the bed. Feeling the pliers slip, I shift my now clammy hands, the pliers glint in the light like they are ready to be causing pain.

As I reach the bed, I can hear the soft snores of a sleeping baby. I examine the room, making sure that the others are still sleeping, hoping they won’t wake up and see what I am about to do. I look down and examine my brothers face. He has a soft, sweet face. He looks so at peace while he is sleeping, softly moving his tiny lips as he dreams. Hoping that he is dreaming of something soothing, happy. I gently smooth his hair with my free hand carefully, as to not wake him. 

If he is dreaming of something happy, you’re going to ruin it. You’re going to ruin him.

I withdraw my hand as the shame fills me with self-loathing and regret for what I am about to do.

Moving the blanket softly, it exposes his hands resting on top of his chest. I grab his chubby hand and pull it gently into the light. Softy running my thumb across the perfectly soft skin, I shakily ready his finger in between mine. I hear the Old man gasp excitedly as I raise the pliers, prying them open and then back shut around the first tiny finger nail, making sure they have a decent grip. Inhaling deep, I hold my breath until my lungs burn. Exhaling hard, I tug the pliers hard, bringing back a tiny bloody nail with it, along with the alarmingly loud wails of the baby. The demented laugh of the old man rings through the house, shattering everything into a million tiny pieces.

 I wake with a start, jolting up, gasping for air.