Curate, connect, and discover
What I see in the dark -
I see eyes, peering at me with malicious intent, their gaze piercing my soul and claw at my skin. I bleed, it pools on the bed, the ground, there the shadows lap up my suffering. The way I cry, they adore it. If they could laugh at how I sob and hit my head, yanking out hair as if it burns me, they would cackle.
I see hands, they grab at my ankle when I try to flee the bed I'm locked in, pulling me under with no chance to take a breath. Their grip is strong, bruises line my legs and crush my bones. They wave at me, trying to tempt me to come closer. But I don't. I wouldn't dare.
I see a mouth, it's teeth eager to bite me, it's lips curled into a twisted grin, a tongue twitching eagerly at the idea of a feast. I curl under the covers and beg for my parents to save me from it. From the memories. The deepest, darkest ones. From the way it's perverse intentions change me, infecting my mind.
I see a man. He glares at me. In the mirror. The TV screen. The corner of my eye. Under the bed. Under the floorboards. In the walls. On the ceiling.
Why won't he stop.
Why won't he leave.
He's going to kill me.