Hidden Evil

Deteriorating (Braxton)

He promised me. He f*****g promised me! He promised me he wouldn't go back to that house. He gives me a headache sometimes. My head is killing me. Angry thoughts and emotions run through my head. I grab my hair, my fingers tangling in the knots. I can't sleep at night due to the haunting nightmares as well as the figures I've seen. It seems like everything is crashing down on me. I wish I had never gone to that house. This is all my fault. Max is dead because of me and Bradley is going to get himself killed because of me. This is my karma.

"f**k," I screamed, throwing a pillow across the room.

My mind is filled with so many thoughts and emotions, it's hard to keep up with reality anymore. I've begun to ignore whenever Dr.Wicker comes to talk to me. Whenever I respond, the voices in my head scream at me.

You're helpless to him, they say.

It hurts, but it's true, I am helpless. I deserve all of this. Max and Bradley don't. I wish I could take their places. I deserve all the suffering. I deserve to be dead.

You're right, a voice said to me, you DO deserve to be dead.

Tears spill out of my eyes and flow freely down my cheeks. I wish I could go back in time and never visit that house. I curl up in a ball and sob openly. The only thing haunting me worse than my nightmares is the guilt I feel every single day and that I will feel until the day I die. A nurse must've heard me crying because she walked in and asked if I was okay. I simply curled up tighter, not wanting to speak at all. She simply covered me with a warm blanket before leaving me alone.

Although I didn't want to speak, I didn't want to be alone. I wanted someone to talk to. I would talk to Bradley but he's mad at me. I would talk to the nurses or even Dr.Wicker but every time I open my mouth, the voices scream at me to shut up. I suddenly feel my chest tighten, my breathing picks up and it feels like an elephant is standing on top of me. I want to scream. I want to scream at myself, the voices, the figures, Bradley, anyone. I just want to feel something again. I want someone to hold me and tell me it's going to be okay.

Do it, a voice spat, scream. Scream for them.

"Shut up," I screamed, and that's what finally did it.

I kept screaming and pulling at my hair. The door opens and in runs Dr.Wicker. He tries to talk to me but I just keep screaming. He sits me up and makes me face him. I grabbed his sleeves and dragged myself to him. He stands speechless as I wrap my arms around him and start sobbing again. He sits on the bed and gives me the comfort I've been longing for. No needles, no words, nothing. He just lets me cry in his arms as he rocks me. I wish I could tell him what's wrong, but I can't.

There are many things I wish I could tell him but the voices have scared me into silence. As my mind raced with the million things I wished to tell the doctor, my eyes grew heavy. I try and fight the welcoming darkness, wanting to relish this comfort a bit longer. I couldn't fight it, my eyes had grown too heavy and I let them close, feeling the tightness in my chest disappear as a peaceful sleep wraps me in its arms.