She’s In My Bed #FearFest
When she told me she’d never let go, she wasn’t lying.
So every night I’d wake up to sound of her footsteps, footsteps that made the floorboards creak. And hear her calling, “Come out to play.”
Mum doesn’t believe me. She says it’s because I miss Sarah that I feel her here. But she never left. She’s been here all along.
She creeps into my bed when the lights are out.
Her skin is cold to the touch.
Guess what? I have a new friend! She’s new to class, but she and I really get along. She comes over on the weekend to play. But Sarah didn’t want her there.
So she goes home crying and never speaks to me again. I don’t understand. I was a good girl, wasn’t I?
Sarah and I haven’t played in a while. I’m all grown up now, 18 next Sunday. I’m so excited because he promised he’s come over.
We’ve been planning this date for months. It’s going to be real special.
We had a great time last night. Only this morning he woke up with scratches on his chest. The kind human nails leave behind. But I wear my nails short.
I’m beginning to understand this game.
And I’m beginning to be afraid.
I used to enjoy bedtime until the footsteps began. And they only began after I met Sarah. Soft-spoken and pretty, with her porcelain skin and blue eyes, she was perfect.
Except she had no friends but me. Not before, not after. And she wanted things to stay that way.
Time has passed, I’m older now. But I don’t go out for brunch with friends. I don’t spend Christmases with mum. I don’t come home to a smiling husband.
I come home to Sarah. A blue-eyed, beautiful doll.
KEEP IN TOUCH!
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