A Demon Made Me Kill

I killed somebody.

No, I didn't hit somebody with my car when I wasn't paying attention. I didn't push a drunk friend into a pool at a party. This wasn't an accident. I murdered somebody in cold blood.

I'm not a bad person. I was always a quiet child, I didn't have many friends but I never caused any trouble. I was a good student, a good son, and a good brother. Unfortunately, these traits don't work in your favour when you're in one of the worst schools in Britain, and as such, I was relentlessly bullied. However, being bullied at school was a holiday compared to home life. That doesn't mean I was abused or beaten, quite the opposite, I had a very loving family. The nightmare I faced at home was my bedroom.

It started as nothing but distant noises in the middle of the night. Faint sounds of footsteps going up and down the stairs. The logical side of my brain attributed this to the neighbours, after all we lived in a small terraced house with thin walls. When this evolved into the sound of light scratching on my bedroom door it was a little harder to explain away, but as a fan of science I chalked it up to my mind playing tricks on me in my impaired (half-asleep) state. This went on for several weeks until one night the scratching at my door became so loud it woke me at 03:00AM. My vision was blurry and the room was pitch black save for the small rays of light from the street lights outside casting faint shadows across the ceiling. As I traced one of those rays toward the small glass pane in my door, I saw her.

My heart stopped. All blood left my body and I was completely frozen in place. On the other side of the glass window pane of my door was a woman. More specifically, the dark silhouette of a figure with long, dark, matted hair, and a thing, gangly body. The only feature I could make out clearly through the blackness of the night were her cold, lifeless, eyes staring straight through my soul. I screamed. I screamed louder than I dare to admit, but no matter how much air I forced out of my lungs, no sound ever came to fruition. It was as if she had muted me. I went to jump out of bed but my legs wouldn't move. Then the door handle began to shift, slowly. Creaking downward, the sound of metal screeching as the floorboards moaned throughout the house. Then nothing. The next thing I was waking to my alarm clock as if it was any other morning. I immediately ran to my Mother and explained the terrifying situation and, of course, she proceeded to ensure me it was just a nightmare. The one thing she couldn't explain, were the physical scratches on my bedroom door, but with it being an old house with old doors, she was convinced it was general wear.

This same thing happened at least once a week for the next 2 years. At this point I'd done all of the research myself and due to the paralysis, the altered state, and many other things, I'd convinced myself I was suffering from sleep paralysis (or 'night terrors') and though it wasn't ideal, it certainly helped me get through the next couple of years. When I turned 18 I moved out of my parents and into student accommodation. I was unsure if it was the change of scenery, the added stress of University, or the fact that I was just growing out of it, but the night terrors stopped. There was no woman at my door, no muted screams, nothing. I believed I could get on with my life and that's just what I did over the next few months.

That was until I returned home for the first time since leaving. I had reservations to sleeping in my old room but I was a grown man now and the issue seemed to have dissipated. So I got ready for bed the first night back at my parents and went to sleep in my old bed. 03:00AM rolled around and I awoke feeling as though I was being watched. A rush of emotions and fear flooded through my body as my eyes adjusted to the encompassing darkness. The smell hit me before the sight could. The whole room stand of rotten meat to the point it was almost unbearable. Then as my vision returned I saw here. Not at the door, not this time, this time she was right above me. As she stood directly next to my bed she began lowering her head toward mine, not blinking the whole time as her stare bore a hole in my soul. Then she opened her mouth and let out a shriek and everything turned black. The next thing I remember is waking up in my neighbours house covered in blood, a knife in my hand.

It's been 9 years. Yesterday was my first day as a free man following that fateful night. I have no home so I'm back at my parents house. Last night I awoke at 03:00AM to the sound of scratching on my door. There, through the window pane of my bedroom door, she stood, staring at me. Blood seeping from the gash wound in her neck. Not the demon who haunted my childhood. No, this time, it was the ghost my neighbour.