Mary

Mary was different, special in a way. Nobody knew Mary was real, well, except for me. We moved into this new house in New Orleans and that is when my life changed, forever. I was about sixteen years old and was homeschooled. Most people seem to think this would be a horrible idea, right? Nope, not for me because my parents had me signed up for everything under the sun. It’s because of all these extracurricular activities that I'm able to speak three languages, play the piano, violin, cello, and discovered my love for tennis. I was not some weirdo that never went out and did anything, in fact I did more than most of the other children my age. My mother had always wanted to be "that" mom, the mom that stayed home with her kids, elegantly prepared every meal, cleaned, and maintained her garden. Unfortunately, my mother could not have any more children after me because she had endometriosis and blocked fallopian tubes. Getting me here was extremely difficult, so my parents decided that I was a blessing as it was and enjoyed the family, they were able to have. My dad was in the military for eight years or so, and when he got out, he ended up doing contract work for some multimillionaire. It has not been the toughest life, but it has been remarkably interesting for sure. My dad is a wonderful man that does anything you ask, and he supports my mother to the fullest. Meeting Mary, however, will change everything.

Mary, sort of, came with our house. She was a stuffed bear that sat in a little cradle off the side of what would become my bedroom. She was dressed in overalls and a little cap that had the words "Little Sunshine Bear Company" written on it. I picked up Mary the first time I saw her and instantly fell in love with the tattered old bear. The room was bright, the sun would shine through the windows making rainbows dance across my walls. I had my own bathroom with a cast iron clawfoot bathtub, baby pink walls, and gold trim. The house needed a makeover for sure, but my room was going to stay the way it was. I felt compelled to not touch or alter anything for some reason. The large bay windows in my room looked out to a huge plantation with beautiful oak trees that were contorted, gnarled, and knotted in every direction. The house was old, eccentric, and whimsical in its own way. I loved it all from the décor, my room, and the life I had. Mary, however, would change everything in only a matter of weeks. I was not prepared for what was going to be coming my way, nor could anyone be in such a circumstance. I was always told that I was good at everything I did, even if I came up short. I had no clue what it felt like to be slapped down, stripped of all my dignity, and respect. Let me take a moment to elaborate about Mary.

One night, while I was sleeping in my bed, I met Mary. I was awoken by what sounded like crying in the bathroom, so I shot up out of bed, and immediately turned my bedside light on. I was scared and thought if I tossed the covers over my head the crying would stop, but it did not. The crying just got increasingly louder and louder. I thought at any moment my mom would come kick in the door and check on me, but she never did. I finally got the nerve to climb out of bed and make my way to the bathroom. I cautiously stuck my hand in first to find the light switch, flicked on the light, but to my surprise there was nothing and no one there. The bathtub was on and overflowing onto the tile floor. It felt like someone was watching me. I went and grabbed towels to clean the mess up. At one point I got the nerve to finally squeak out a "hello," but there was nothing in return. The silence made the air so thick; you could cut it with a knife. I finished cleaning up the water and climbed back into bed. Nothing else happened that night, but when I woke up the next morning, I noticed the bear was on the opposite side of my bed. I had no idea how he got there, but I assumed I must have picked it up last night when I jumped under the covers. I went about my normal routine, got up, got dressed, and went downstairs for breakfast. My mother and father were sitting at the kitchen table, but for some reason they both looked quite angry. Mother narrowed her eyes at me and told me that if I was going to listen to music and run the bath at 2:30 in the morning, to at least do it quieter. Before I could try to defend myself my father piped in and exclaimed that if I dared to lie and deny it that he would have me talk to a shrink. They made it clear that they both witnessed me going in and out of my room for towels! I told them everything that happened in hopes they would understand, but they did not want to hear it or believe me. Confused, I grabbed my laptop and started school for the day.

It was mid-afternoon as I was working on a project, when I heard a whisper from under the spiral stairs. The voice said, “come here, I need a friend.” I got up, walked to the stairs, and the only thing that was there was the bear. I picked it up and showed my mom. She was not impressed with me or my “childish behavior,” as she put it. As time went on, I had reached a point where I was carrying the bear around everywhere like a toddler. I loved the bear, but I hated the bear at the same time. A dark infatuation that I could not let go of. One day, I was getting ready for dance class when a little girl appeared in front of me. She was just standing there with a weird distorted smile on her face that reached from ear to ear. Instantly, I started screaming and yelling for my mom and dad. They soared into my room, threw the door open, and asked what was going on. Unfortunately, they do not believe me once again and ask if I am doing drugs. Drugs! Why drugs?! “This place is haunted!” I shouted in anger. At this point I am shaking and hurt because of my parent’s reaction. I have the bear clenched against my chest and I am sobbing into its head. My parents remain standing there just looking at me, but it feels like they are looking through me. I never made it to dance class that day, instead I made it to the local mental health ward. I now find myself locked away for a thirty-day evaluation hold. Mom and dad took the bear home with them.

I have not received any visits from my parents; I have not received any phone calls from them, not even a letter. I do, however, get nightly visits from my wide smiled friend asking where her bear, Mary, is. I yell and scream in terror, and the orderlies just sedate me by pumping me full of meds. I am just a body without a mind or purpose, a zombie. My soul is in a cage that cannot be freed. I am sure it has surpassed 30 days. I am completely alone. I have learned to contain the screams at night and the meds I am given, I hide. At night, this fiend slithers on the floor and hovers over my bed with her wide smile and black eyes. She hisses and screams, asking where Mary is, but I just flip over on my side and ignore her. So far she has bitten me, scratched me, and burnt me. These attacks are pointless though because I no longer care. In fact, I hope she kills me. She never does. Mary, the bear, has appeared in the room, but only I can see it. I try to tell the doctors and nurses that I am fine and can go home now, they never seem to see it though. They just reevaluate me again and again, as if I am stuck inside an endless looping nightmare. I constantly them ask where my family is and they just look at me with sad eyes. They only ever answer me with questions like, “Do you know why you are here?” or “Do you remember anything from 2016?” I just sit there and sob. Is this a joke? Is this real? I state my name, my age, where I live, the year 2016, they just look at me like I am crazy. One afternoon, I finally am coherent enough to grab a doctor and pled for answers. Finally, with exhaustion in his voice the doctor just says “Jenny, here is your folder. Read it, and then tell me why you are here.” I grab the folder and go to my room.

As I start to read my case file, shock and confusion envelope me. I am not 16 years old, but in fact 56. I had gotten loose from the hospital and killed a 16-year-old girl by the name of Mary as well as her mother Judith. I apparently had drowned Mary in the tub, and then stabbed Judith to death. After the murder was over, I called 911 and reported the crime, but I did so as Mary. The police found me as I hid under the bed. This was also where I found the teddy bear with the name Mary written on its tag. Not the actual name of the bear as I had given it, but a tag left behind by its owner. I was locked up in the county jail until I was deemed mentally unfit by the court’s mental health system. My parents do not visit me because I was no longer recognized as their little girl. It is not my fault I was possessed by an evil bear. In fact, none of my family visits me anymore because I am so unstable that I bounce my skull off the walls of my room when I see them, but that was Mary’s plan. To isolate and control me. The doctor’s say that I have taken over the identity of the 16-year-old girl because it is how I cope. I have no remorse for anything I have done because I did not do anything to begin with. I refuse to take my medication, even though they say I have schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, anxiety disorder, ADHD, borderline personality disorder, and a so called documented past of sociopathic behavior.

The only person that has come to visit me once a month is the father and husband of the family I killed. He brings a fruit basket for the staff and brings me drawings from his daughter’s journal. He then says something in French to me that I do not understand, I bite myself, and he leaves. After these encounters I have night terrors for the rest of the evening.

I have minimal contact with the staff because I am so unpredictable and am labeled as dangerous. I feel myself becoming a hollow human being, often described as being soulless. If I had the option for death, I would take it. I am nobody; I am nothing. I am in hell with nothing but thoughts of despair and a demonic little girl haunting me. I wish I were able to fly away from all of this, but what would be the point. She would still find me.

Today I devised a plan, I head-butted the orderly, took his keys, stabbed the nurse, and then security guard. After breaking out of the ward, I made my way to the closest exit. As I burst my way to freedom I run into the woods, I run as deep into the woods as I can so nobody would ever find me. The search teams come, they bring their helicopters, and their dogs. However, they will never find me. We are now Mary, the hollow immortal. The demon of your nightmares that lives in your head. Just ask the officers who ventured to deep in the woods, My apologies, You can’t.