But the footsteps start walking toward the door.
The footsteps sound like they are coming from above.
The volume’s as loud as it’s going to go. My ears should be hurting. I think they are. Maybe. But I’m really focused on ignoring the symptoms.
Sure, I know, demon, you’re there. But you can’t keep me from living my life. And I have a life. There’s a fuck-ton of videos I haven’t viewed yet.
Like this one here that I couldn’t care less about but I’m going to watch it because it’s going to be really, really loud.
This haunting stuff is so annoying that it’s making me deaf.
But okay, the video isn’t any good.
And I’m kind of curious, actually. I crack my knuckles and think about it, think about if I’ve ever been up to the attic. I don’t think so. I didn’t even know the house had an attic. The footsteps are in twos, one-two, stop, one-two, stop… I pause the video and listen with my headphones still on.
Are you hearing this, Mom? Dad?
But no, they probably aren’t, because they’re not even home. Go figure.
The footsteps continue until they stop. And where do they stop…?
Takes a second to get it right. Put two and two together, or whatever the saying is. When I figure it out, I wish it wasn’t true, or that I even paid any attention to it. The footsteps stop right above me, above my bed. I look up and it’s like it’s looking down at me from above. It’s trying to get me to go up there, like a dare or something. What’s in it for me? I mean, really?
Beyond everyone suddenly paying attention to me.
Beyond everything strange and confusing that’s happening.
I want to still be me. Not that anyone around me would understand what that means. I just want to be able to sit in my room and watch videos. I want to be able to jerk off without the door opening and closing. I want to be able to take care of myself without my parents or Becca telling me what to do. I just want to be me, you know? And that might not be very cool or interesting, but then I kind of think that most people aren’t really very interesting when you break them down. They do the same couple of things and that’s it.
But yeah, I have to go up to the attic.
I have to because I just know I’ll keep thinking about it, wondering about it, until I do. I mean, it’s right above me. How am I going to sleep? I already have trouble with that, and now I’ve got something, like, I don’t know, looming from above.
Next question then is if I should take my laptop with me. I feel like I should, but then I think about how bad it’ll be on the battery if I unplug it for, like, the ten minutes it’ll take me to check the attic only to end up plugging it back in. That’s how battery life dies.
So then I think maybe the phone. Yeah, the phone because I’ll need light up there. Attics probably don’t have light, especially at night.
Okay, so I’m heading up there.
Living my life.
I am. I’m heading up there. I keep all the lights on in my room, in the hallway, every room. The house is lit up like Christmas but it’s still dark in the attic. Random thought: Why is every ladder to every attic made of cheap, creaky wood? It creeps me out. I’ll admit it. It does.
Living my life.
There’s nothing in the attic.
I shine the light around and see nothing, shining it quick, like a once-over, because deep down I don’t want to see anything. Worse is I don’t want to feel anything. Still, I make each step and I end up in the attic.
Apparently I’m not alone.
There’s something in here.
The creaky floorboards match the creaky ladder.
Each step echoes out, not like a usual echo but like there’s something taking a step forward whenever I do. It’s coming from behind me, the steps.
I won’t look. I won’t look. I won’t look.
The area above my room, my bed, is right over there. But that’s where Dad dumped all the boxes of old VHS tapes, movies, albums, and other junk no one uses anymore. Maybe I got it wrong. Maybe it’s over there…
No, but then shining the light across the dark attic, I start to see things.
I’m going to say that it’s my imagination messing with me, but that’s a bunch of bullshit because it’s obvious what it is.
I’ve seen it as a shape out of the corner of my eye, seen it in the shower. Now I see it standing not three or four steps away from me. I shine the light in that direction, thinking I’m fearless, but when I do that it’s gone. It was a shape though. Some kind of dark mass.
Living my life.
I’m leaving the attic.
That’s enough; there’s nothing here.
No more, no fucking more.
I’m hating myself right now. I’m really hating the situation. It’s messing with me, that’s what it’s doing. When I leave the attic, the lights are off in the house. All of them, every single one, except for the lights in my bedroom.
I mumble, “You’re messing with me,” because I don’t want to shout it out. I read somewhere that demons feed on your energy. If it’s negative, they feed on the negativity and turn it into their own counterattack.
I’m not up for a fight. I just want everything to stay the same. But I also like that things are different. I’m confused.
I stand in the hallway for a long time, gripping on to my phone.
It’s just… well, I know something’s going to happen if I walk into that room. The lights are on for a reason. In the dark of the hallway, I feel safer than being in my bedroom. But then again, I can’t just not go into my room. It’s my room. If I let it scare me out of my own room, then I’m not really living my life and everything’s changed. My future involves going back into this room.
I know I will, but right now, it’s just so hard to step inside.
I’m letting it all get to me. The symptoms are at their worst when I’m home alone. Being home alone is the most frightening thing imaginable.
I’ll say it. Might as well say it.
That’s the truth. Better to be lost in some big crowd or something than to be in a house all by yourself.
Then it makes a sound. Sort of a whisper, but I don’t know what it’s saying.
I’m not alone. I’m not alone in this house.
It’s in my room, isn’t it? I know it’s in there, but I’m not going to lose it. I’m going inside like it’s just another night.
Living my life.
First thing I notice when I finally stop being a wuss and I walk inside: it’s not cold in my room anymore. The cold has shifted. Don’t know where it is, but it’s not here. Also, my laptop.
I’m kicking myself for it because I sort of knew it would happen. I mean, I remember thinking about taking it, like I subconsciously knew something would happen if I left it here. So it’s sort of my fault. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s gone.
My laptop. Where the fuck?
Here’s what I’m talking about when I say it’s exhausting.
I have to look everywhere. There are so many places where the laptop could’ve gone. Then I think about the possibility that it broke the laptop or banished it into the ether of some kind of hell or something.
My life is in that laptop.
I can’t live my life without it.
Just thinking about all of it…
Okay, I sit down on the bed. I take off one of the hoodies because I’m legit sweating now. I maybe close my eyes and maybe fall asleep.
Whenever I start searching for it, like a half hour’s gone and I’m exactly the same: tired, just really tired. Also a little afraid. Definitely confused.
I keep thinking about what the demon might look like. I’m surprised that the more I think about it, trying to form an image out of the bits and pieces I’ve seen, I’m more interested than scared.