I decided not to focus on him, tonight. I wander his room instead. I’ve seen it so many times, yet I’ve never looked at it. It’s rather simple - small wooden tables on either side of his bed, a strange black screen sits across the room, There’s a bookcase to one side. Reading through the titles it seems that he rather enjoys science fiction and fantasy. I wonder what seeing him read would be like.
He has a small black book next to him. It’s unlike those on the shelf, there’s no title or images on the cover. Do I risk opening it? I’m worried it’s too close to him. If I wake him, I’ll have cut my night short once again. I want to stay as long as I can to make up for the other times. But, what could be in a book so important to him that he sleeps next to it?
After staring at this strange book for an hour, I’ve decided to open it. I’m not sure how much time I have left in the night, but I have to know what’s inside. As it turns out, it’s not a book but rather a collection of his own thoughts that he’s been writing down; which explains why he felt it important to sleep next to. He hasn’t written in it very much. There’s only a page or two with any markings. There’s something… intimate about seeing his handwriting - knowing how his hands work. He wrote:
I usually don’t believe in supernatural bull shit but… I’m gonna start writing these things down cause I’m starting to think that I’m being haunted by some demon. I feel crazy even writing those words, let alone thinking them. But there’s just too much unexplained stuff happening. I guess it started with the nightmares I keep having. A large black figure with long horns and fiery eyes is chasing me through long infinite hallways. It never says anything, never attempts to hurt me necessarily, but everytime I turn around it’s there - just standing and staring at me. No matter how fast I run or how far I go, it’s always just a few feet behind me.
Then there’s when I had that girl over, Claire. I’d cut myself on a piece of a broken glass from a wine class she dropped. I cleaned it, bandaged it, went on with our night. Here’s the weirder thing though, when I went to change the bandage on my hand the next morning, the cut had almost completely healed! This was a cut that was nearly deep enough for stitches. There’s no way it should’ve healed overnight like that, right?
OK, so it’s like 2 AM as I’m writing this entry. I was having the same nightmare, but this time I was woken up when I swear something grabbed my arm. There’s nothing in the room but… I think I’m gonna spend the rest of tonight on the couch.
God, I keep having these nightmares! The only time I don’t have them is when Claire is around. I can’t very well invite her over every night, it’s not like we’re together, but… I’m kinda scared… I just need her here. I need anyone here.
This is the last straw. Claire just went home, at 3 AM or so, she woke me up, screaming. When I turned on the light, she had four long scratch marks across her stomach. None of them were very deep, just enough to break the skin and bleed slightly. But still. That’s some scary shit. Like nothing could’ve made those in the bed, right?
He was writing about me? I suddenly feel light headed. He wrote about what I was doing. I’m worried, for it means he’s catching on to me, but I can’t stop this feeling of… happiness? He’s noticed me.
I knew it. The nightmares were my doing. I’m not exceptionally large nor do I have a black form but the long horns are mine, and the fiery eyes are a dreams representation of my red. Why do my eyes sting? Ah, I’m crying. I wanted to protect him and I ended up hurting him instead. I’ve ruined it. I can’t come back, for his sake.
He began to stir and in a panic I dropped the book and returned here. If he had only suspicions before, he must certainly know I was there now. The thought of never returning causes me great pain, but I know it’s what is right.
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