Lost To The Devil

Chapter 2: Nightmares

It had only been two months since we had moved to this house and I was beginning to hate it already. Whenever mum was working, which was pretty much all the time, the doorbell would ring on its own, the stereo and tv would turn on and off of there own accord and now there was an absolutely irritating tapping in the walls. If I was in bed the tapping would be in the wall next to it, if I was in the bathroom it would be there, the kitchen, the living room. I assumed it must be the pipes in the house and moaned at mum to get it checked for almost a month before she finally caved in and got a plumber out only to be told there was nothing wrong.

Next the nightmares came. I would go to bed and dream of horrific things, thousands of people burning in fire, screaming in agonising torment. Then it would change to people in chains having no choice but to wait their turn as demons ripped into their flesh until there was nothing left but a bloody mess only to be made to start all over again. The last dream was of myself lying on my bed trying to scream in terror but only doing so silently, my whole body was paralysed and the more I tried to free myself the more stuck I became and then I would wake up crying and shaking feeling deeply disturbed by what I had witnessed in my dreams. I never got back to sleep after that and because I would dream the same things every night without fail I became increasingly tired during the days.

It was a Friday when after spending all day working hard to finish my art project, which was a sculpture of the statue David that I was immensely proud of, I suddenly felt an overwhelming hatred for this stupid project, picking it up to take home like everyone else, I left the building and stopping next to the bin outside I smashed the project against it until it fell to pieces and slammed the rest into the bin in absolute disgust with it. I raged over it all the way home but when I finally got through the front door I collapsed onto the sofa and cried for an hour over my much loved project. Why the hell had I done that? There had been no reason for the anger, it had just come over me. I reasoned it was just the tiredness and put on the tv.

I was becoming more and more moody and withdrawn everyday. Just yesterday I had started a huge row with mum for always being at work and shocked by my anger as I had never complained about it before, she took a few seconds before trying to reason that we needed the money, “That’s how we managed to afford this place honey.” She answered exasperated. My reply had been, “f**k the money and f**k this stupid place.” Before Storming off to my bedroom where I spent the rest of the day and night sleeping. It had been the first time I had ever sworn or even yelled at my mother and it scared me a little. When I wasn't at college I was in my room. The money mum left me for dinner was spent on clothes instead and not my usual style. Instead I bought things like high heeled shoes, short skirts, even shorter shorts, belly showing tops and makeup.

Mum had always said I was lucky enough not to have to bother with makeup with my natural beauty, olive skin, dark blue eyes, long locks of black hair that ran down my Back and flawless skin. I had never bothered with makeup anyway, that was until now.

The next few weeks I wore my new revealing clothes and makeup to college. mascara, eyeliner so on and red lipstick. I felt really good when the boys started to notice me and I flirted outrageously with them, I was no longer alone at lunch but I didn't feel like myself either it felt as though I were watching through a hazy dream world.

At home in bed the dreams started to calm down only bothering me once to two times a week now but the rest of the time I was now woken by whispering in my room, it would start of quietly and get louder and louder until I woke up in fear and then it would stop, only to start up again when I fell back to sleep.

Monday morning I kissed mum goodbye now on good terms again after she forgave my outburst from before and headed to college. Mum had tried to persuade me back into my old clothes but gave up after four weeks of me ignoring her opinion and dressing my new way. I had a huge crush on a guy called Tommy at college and at lunch I suggested we went alone somewhere, knowing what I meant he grinned and took me down an alleyway next to college where we started making out. I had planned on unzipping his trousers but suddenly found my hand gripped tightly around his throat squeezing with a strength I knew I didn't possess. I tried pulling my hand away but it was like I was paralysed in that arm and it had a life of its own and before I could rationalise what was happening a sudden wave of rage and hatred took me over and I heard myself growl, “she is mine!” Before dropping a terrified Tommy and casually walking off to go home. I never went back to college after that, try as I might my body just would not cooperate with me, I gave up and spent all my time at home now. The loud tapping in the walls I had gotten so used to that I didn't even realise when they stopped.