by Ciara Bazile 2 years ago in fiction

Jessica's Journal


I hate this room. It’s drafty with dirty eggshell wallpaper and dark gray granite flooring. The lone rectangular window sits high on the outside wall, allowing only a tiny beam of sunlight. Sometimes I can see people walking. Thick white spider webs float in the corner by the door, some resisted underneath my desk. My rough cotton knitted blanket and brick-like pillow are the only things on my bed. I hear heels clicking down the hall before the echoes of my door unlock. The aroma of cleaning supplies quickly fills my 10x10 room as my door swings open. She walks into my room and immediately sits at my desk.

“Good morning Jessica,” she says sweetly.

“Morning.” I sit on the bed looking at the bundle of paperwork she brings with her.

“How have you been?”

“I can’t sleep!” I jump up from my bed and begin to pace back and forth.

“These pills aren’t doing anything! It…It comes every night now. I feel its breath on my neck at night. I swear I do! It cuddles me like, I’m its baby. Stroking my hair. I never see it but it always tells me…”

“You never saw it?”

“No. It won’t show itself. I looked deep into her eyes. She had grey eyes so clear I could see my reflection in them. I look horrible. I haven’t slept in days or was it months? It's been so long I lost track of time."

“I’m going to up your dose,” she says as she writes notes on her notepad.

I didn’t know my dose could get any higher. So now I will take two orange circles and two green triangles, topped off with a glass of dirty warm water. Together everything tasted like bitter copper pennies.

“Will they help me sleep?”

“These aren’t sleeping pills Jessica, you know that.”

“Well, that’s what I need, sleeping pills! Not this other crap!”

“Yes, I understand. But we have to address the main concern first,” she said calmly.

This is a routine thing for her, she makes me talk about how I can’t sleep but doesn’t give me anything to achieve it. She thinks I’m crazy.

“Ok, I’ll see you in a week,” she gatherers her papers. I nod and sit down on my bed.

Before she leaves my room, she stops and turns towards me.

“We must face our fears, Jessica. We should strive, to tell the truth, lies only make things worse. Next time we can discuss those fears in better detail. Sound good?”

“I do face my fears!” I yell back.

I hear the echoes from the door locking behind her as she leaves. They’re so worried about keeping me locked in and not thinking about what they need to keep locked out. She didn’t notice I made my bed today as usual. Next time, I’ll tell her what It tells me. I’ll make her listen. I lay on my back studying the strange patterns on the ceiling until I feel my eyelids getting heavy.

I hear what seems to be hooves scraping against the floor. Why is she in my room this late at night? I quickly turn my head following the noise as it moves throughout my room. I see nothing. Its back. I hear the hooves move toward the opposite side of where I’m lying. I can’t move. If I scream who would hear me? Who would come? Everything feels paralyzed from the neck down. I hear my bed springs tense from the weight of its body. I turn my head to face it and feel a deep gush of wind hit my eyelids before hearing.

“Kill her.”

Ciara Bazile
Ciara Bazile
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