No one realizes that I am sick.

Or at least, I think that I’m sick, but how can I tell? Maybe it’s just this house playing tricks on me. This house is evil. I can feel it seeping through the drafty, wooden floors and dripping down the walls. It snakes around the archaic, allergy-inducing furniture. It thrives in the shadows among the ancient mold colonies and thick, revolting cobwebs which garnish every corner of this vile house. However, it prominently congregates in the little red room. This is the room which I also occupy.

I stumble out of bed after a long, sleepless night. I am tormented both night and day, never able to fully relinquish its grasp on me. I walk to my mirror and attempt to make myself look presentable. This is a hard and completely useless task. However, succeeding in making myself decent for one more day gives me one more day before it can completely overtake me.

I stare horrified into the old, filmy mirror. Every day, I lose more and more of myself. It tries to suck the life out of me, and all of its onslaughts are beginning to take a noticeable toll.

I begin the monotonous process of removing the stringy, strands of black hair from my face. As I work, I can feel the evilness creeping up behind me. It often tries to ambush me during these moments when I allow my guard to slip. Ignoring it, I pull my straggly hair away from my sallow, pallid face. Dull, lifeless, blue eyes stare at me in the mirror.

Suddenly, I am overwhelmed by it. I lose all vision as I tumble to the cold, dusty, wooden floor. I regain my vision, only to watch in horror as blood drips from the red walls.

The oppressive little room begins to close in, suffocating me. As the room closes in, the walls whisper to me, filling me with unspeakable terror. I dash back to my bed in an attempt to receive some solace, but my bed is gone. It has been taken away. In its place is a moldy mattress covered in old moth-eaten rags.

“I’m going to lose myself this time,” I think hopelessly. “This time it’s never gonna set me free.”The walls begin screeching- screams that fill me with incomprehensible terror. The cries radiate throughout the room and vibrate inside of me. I stuff my fingers in my ears in a vain attempt to stifle the horrifying wails.

“I can’t give up! I must fight! I have to win one more day.”

I make a split-second decision and dash off the bed. In an attempt to flee it, I sprint through the narrow hallway and down the rickety old steps. As I thrust open the back door and escape into the garden, the old, rusty door hinges groan in protest.

Once safely outside, I kneel over and rest my arms on my knees, wheezing as I try to catch my breath.

After I have stopped hyperventilating, I begin to look around the garden.

“NOOO!!!”

I turn quickly in circles to inspect the garden. Weeds run rampant around the flower beds. The beautiful stone wall is being suffocated by vines and is crumbling. The rose bushes have lost their roses; the thorns have multiplied and erected an impregnable, serrated wall. The freshly mowed lawn has become a gigantic mud puddle.

The normally clean air has become acidic and putrid. The weather that generally tends to be warm and pleasant is damp and icy. Gusts of glacial wind swirl around me, chilling me to the bone within seconds.

“How? How can this happen? My solace, my refuge, my sanctuary!” I think despairingly.

Dejectedly, I plop down onto the ground, straight into the rancid mud. I continue to stare at the hopelessly destroyed garden, willing it to become the lovely sanctuary it was before.

Once again, it comes for me.

Silently, it slinks across the garden and whispers to the air. The wind begins to pick up speed. However, I am so caught up in my grief that when it comes for me, I don’t detect it until it’s too late.

Slowly, I rise from the mud. I watch as the sky gets darker and darker.

BOOM!

A clap of thunder.

My head is bursting.

Raven-black crows surround the garden. Hundreds of them flock on the dilapidated wall and congregate on bushes and tree branches.

Waiting.

Watching.

Anticipating my next move.

Then the rose bushes come to life. They spring up from the ground and the thorn-covered vines creep towards me. Their pointed barbs ready to puncture my skin.

Screaming, I turn and begin to flee the garden. I slide on mud and land with my face partially submerged in the liquid earth. One of the vines grabs my ankle. Adrenaline courses through me and I flail about frantically, breaking free from my captor. I spring off the ground and continue towards the house as the crows begin their descent, cawing and screeching as they attack me from the heavens.

Inside the house, I race up to the little red room. Desperately, I slam shut the door. Once inside, I realize that I have just trapped myself. It surrounds me, cackling in glee. It begins to slowly converge on me.

Downstairs, I can hear the front door open.

“Hello,” he calls up the stairs. “Anybody home?”

Suddenly, the room lurches violently. I collapse on the floor in a fit of spasms. It might have only lasted for a few seconds or a few hours, but time ceased to have meaning during that time.

When I sit up, the room is transformed. It has momentarily retreated. After it relinquishes its claim, the room is restored to its original state. My bed returns to normal, the mirror becomes clean and the intricate rim shimmers from the silver of which it’s made. The walls are a beautiful light pink and the hardwood floors freshly polished.

Outside, the garden has been restored to its former splendor. The sun is shining on the delicate blossoms which are in full bloom. The garden wall is resurrected in a beautiful display of architecture. The lawn is a wide expanse of lush green once again.

Opening the window, I breathe in a deep breath of fresh air. There is a slight breeze, but the weather has become warm once again and is extremely pleasant on my exposed arms. He will not see the marks. No one will see the marks.

“Hello,” he calls again.

I walk out of the little red room and begin to descend down the beautiful staircase. As I make my way to greet him, I smooth down my hair and dust off my dress, carefully masking the insanity so that…

No one realizes my horror.

No one realizes the truth that evil desires me.

No one knows

No one

but

me.