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Rock bottom keeps getting deeper. Youre pathetic, he would say, look at you. Ugly and fat. The shrouded figure paced my room, his eyes locked onto mine. He was old and frail, with pale white skin, which looked war-torn and aged. A black, torn cloak draped over his physique, complete with a hood, which camouflaged his face. His body was skeletal. I was lying in my bed, paralyzed. The figures eyes ran over me, judging every little detail, searching for flaws across every inch of my female body. James may call you beautiful, but hes only trying to manipulate you, sweetheart. Oh, how easy it is for him to bed you. Youre just a broken soul who gives her body away, terrified of being alone. He approached the bed and leaned over me. He neared his head, ever so slowly, creeping forward until our faces met. The figures icy cold breath brushed against my cheeks, and it smelled of death. His eyes were a flushed red, and his nose hairs were overgrown. He had a classic witchs nose; it was long and narrow, with a prominent lump on the bridge.
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He punctuated each and every breath with a brief pause. Inhale, stop. Exhale, stop. Each gasp of air was accompanied by a dreadful rattle, as if his lungs were bound to collapse at any moment. Sweat poured down my face. Adrenaline shot throughout my body as I tried to flail, but my muscles didnt respond. I was helpless. I wanted nothing more than to scream, to attack my intruder, and to thrash aimlessly in terror. I could feel my heart racing; my own breathing became short and shallow. At last, a tear streamed down my left cheek. The figure stopped his breathing, his gaze fixed on the sole drop on my face as it made its way down my ugly, imperfect face. He cackled. Youre worthless. Hours seemed to pass by until my mom knocked on my door. Sarah, she said, are you awake? The deathly frail figure then vanished. I quickly forced my hands into my face and sobbed uncontrollably as my mother entered the room. She gasped, then sat on the bed and cradled me. Oh honey, whats the matter?
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*** Come on, Sarah. You havent looked me in the eyes all day. Whats going on? My boyfriend James was hunched over in his seat and leaning across the table, trying to get some sort of response out of me. If I cared to look him in the eyes, I would likely be greeted with his wide pupils and an arched brow; his typical look of concern. I continued to avert his gaze and picked at the bland cafeteria food being served today. Atkins High School seemed to scurry on at a grueling pace: lines forming and shortening as students are served, rambunctious teenagers howling over the latest gossip floating around, and occupied booths being left empty as the lunch hour passed. James and I had not moved the entire time. He didnt even bother to eat any lunch; as soon as he found me he sat down and refused to leave until I showed signs of life. I didnt. Get a move on, kids, our vice principal hovered over us. Youre late for class.

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James, ever eager to avoid detention, hurried off to his physics class. I stayed behind, lacking the motivation to even speak. I was so tired; drained of all my energy, dazing off into spells of micro-sleep until Dr. Frend, the vice principal, spoke again. Whats your next class? Discrete math, I murmured, with Ms. Howe. Lets get going, then. Come on, Ill walk you. Dr. Frend and I walked across campus to Ms. Howes room. He was, thankfully, a compassionate human being; unlike many who reside in the realm of academia. I had been stuck in a rut of sleeplessness and depression for the last two weeks, and although I refused to discuss my change in disposition, he tried his best to understand. At the very least, I assured Dr. Frend that my mother was not abusing me. She was just as caring as he was; not a day has passed without her showing me love and concern. I was grateful to have such an exceptional mother. When I occasionally refused to get out of bed and start my day, she would always comfort and coerce me to attend school. James will be lonely without you, she said this morning.
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I made it to Ms. Howes class only a few minutes late, yet I might as well have been absent; my mind was too groggy to direct my attention to the chalkboard. The rest of the day was a blur. I kept passing in and out of consciousness, until the eventual release from my last class. It was a Friday. They typically evoke more excitement from me, but I found nothing to look forward to this weekend. James is gearing up for his transition to college, so he will be away visiting Appalachian State as well as Winston-Salem State University. My friends have distanced themselves from my life, not taking very kindly to my sudden emotional change. James was my only emotional support, and he would not be with me until Monday. My weekend was shaping up to be very lonely. The dismissal bell chimed. I left class and trudged out the main entrance to find my mothers disheveled van parked right in front of Atkins High. She was almost always the first parent to arrive; she worked as the opening manager at Mellow Mocha first in, first out. Every day, her mission after clocking out was to pick me up from school.
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I climbed into the van and heaved my book bag into the back seat. My mom flashed me a smile and said Hey Sarah, how was your day? It was alright. My mother detailed her day at work as she drove us home. I only recall the bit where she mentioned a customer left his soiled underwear in the restrooms handicapped stall. Her male co-workers drew straws to decide who would be the unlucky fellow tasked with disposing of them. I didnt say much. I was too busy dreading the weekend ahead. As we pulled into our neighborhood, my phone vibrated. It was a text message from James. Hey, sorry I left in a hurry. I panicked. Are you feeling better? No, I texted back, I could barely keep my eyes open today. I have a ton of homework that Ive already decided not to do. Im here for you, was his reply. Mom pulled the van into our driveway, cheerily remarking were home! I muttered a quick thanks and shuffled off to my room, eager for some time alone. ***
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These hallucinations you speak of, theyre quite common. Nothing to worry about. I met eyes with my psychiatrist, Dr. Schmitz, who shifted in his seat and pushed up his glasses. He was a balding man in his late fifties, sporting a wardrobe that lagged behind twenty years. Theyre hypnagogic, he added, you mentioned they always occur when exiting the dream state. Id only be concerned if you started hallucinating in broad daylight. I blinked. Hypna-what? Hypnagogic, he enunciated slowly, its the state of drowsiness between wakefulness and sleep. Dr. Schmitz shifted his gaze down to his notes. He kept a file for every patient, and mine had grown quite large over the past three months Ive been in treatment. My antidepressant prescription had recently been switched to Prozac; the Zoloft I was originally taking did nothing but instill suicidal thoughts. I cracked my knuckles while he examined my file. He glared up at me, frowning. Could you stop that? he said.
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Dr. Schmitz was a very particular man. He took another moment to look over his documents, and then proceeded. Have you experienced any other side effects from the Prozac? Sleep paralysis. He grunted. Very strange, then jotted this down in my file. SSRIs such as Prozac usually eliminate sleep paralysis, not cause it. He looked at me again. His prescription glasses were hefty, and his eyes appeared to be magnified. Is the sleep paralysis ever in conjunction with the hallucinations? Yes, always. And on a scale from one to ten, ten being the most extreme, how unpleasant do you find the paralysis? I considered this for a moment. Eight. Okay, he continued to write down notes. He had a frantic pace to his handwriting, and I briefly wondered if hed be able to read it later. Im going to get in touch with your pediatrician. Were going to work out a treatment plan together.
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Oh, one more thing, he continued, you mentioned you are sexually active? I shifted in my seat and crossed my arms. The personal questions that psychiatrists ask often make me uncomfortable. *** I tossed and turned in bed that night. Sleeping has been dreadful; whereas in the past it was somewhat of a hobby. My ten hours of sleep has been reduced to four, sometimes six if Im lucky. I would stay awake until the early hours of morning passed, which is when my inevitable collapse to slumber usually happens. Twisted imagery and malformed faces engulfed my minds eye. Vivid colors flashed into my field of view and then vanished just as quickly. Haunting screams and distorted speech seemed to emerge from every direction; the faint ringing in my ears grew louder. Louder. Louder. Amongst the sensory noise, I could feel the figures presence. I could feel his dead, glowing eyes surrounding me, piercing me, as if his eyes had superpowers, and he could see inside me, and he could read my
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thoughts, and he could feel my fear, my anger, my confusion, my sadness, he fed on it, my emotions made him whole, and they drained me of my essence, and he loved it. I could feel him drawing nearer, as the incessant flashing lights and dreadful ringing piercing my mind. Then I felt his presence inside me his awful, horrifying presence. And at once, everything stopped. The zany and horrifying dreamworld my mind had conjured was replaced with an eerie calmness. Nothingness and silence. I wasnt scared; it was not a dreadful calm, but an inviting one. It was the calm you wish for when life feels overwhelming. I was certain that I had died. When I was a kid, I imagined this is what it was like a meager nonexistence, experiencing nothing but your thoughts as the world churned on without you. Life after death was never something I could accept, even when I believed God was real. It was a void that was truly staggering in scope, and completely indifferent towards you. Blurred images scattered my view tiny balls of light that grew in size, until they merged together to form a full, coherent picture. It was
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truly beautiful, in that it wasnt just noise. It was something I could understand. I was stargazing. I was sprawled out on the grass, fixating my eyes on all the intriguing details in the grand night sky. I planned out my own constellations and I admired the sheer beauty of the nebula; and occasionally I would close my eyes and listen to the sounds of the night. Crickets chirped and owls hooted. Civilization was nowhere to be found, and I bathed in the stillness that accompanies pure and untouched nature. I examined the landscape that surrounded me. I was lying at the crest of a large hill which was encapsulated by a gorgeous green meadow. I spotted rolling hills and distant mountains, as well as a dense forest. Curiosity seized my mind, and I wished to explore the mysterious woodland. Rising from the comforts of the soft turf, I started in the direction of the trees. My pace was slow as I continued to ponder over the peculiar place I was in. Gathering my thoughts and meditating over my situation, I concluded that this was Heaven. The countryside that stretched out in front of me was far too perfect to be found on Earth. It was a world
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untouched by man; it was an expanse so profoundly peaceful and harmonious in nature. For once in my life, I felt safe. As I approached the woods, I spotted a dirt path that wound through the trees. Okay, I thought, somebody had to make this path. Im not the first person here. My curiosity continued to pester me, so I chose to start down the path. It was very intricate, with many twists and turns. A few times I felt as if I had reversed direction and doubled back, but this was never the case. After quite a lengthy hike through the forest, I came upon a clearing. It didnt seem natural, but I couldnt find any signs of deforestation. The clearing was in the shape of a perfect circle, and in the center was a massive, overgrown tree. It seemed to hold the sky. I imagined this tree was the mother, and all the other tree-lings are her children huddled around the creator, worshipping her, feasting on her nourishment. Suspended from the tree was a swing, with a young girl seated in it. She sported flowing auburn hair and a flowery dress that
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complimented the scenery. Her back was towards me and her hands gripped the ropes supporting the wooden plank she was settled on. She hadnt noticed me, and I was stuck pondering how to announce my presence as gently as possible. Startling my friends is always amusing, but startling a stranger especially a young girl is a bad first impression. I decided to just go for it. Hi, I called out to her. She didnt move at first. She remained frozen, and I began to wonder if she was really a person. Perhaps shes another hallucination, or just a mannequin, or maybe shes paralyzed, just like Ive been many times, I couldnt be too sure. Slowly, she turned. Her body language expressed not fear or distress, but youthful curiosity and spirit. Our eyes met. Her face was perfect her eyes a deep brown, her bangs shaped brilliantly over her forehead, her firm lips curved upwards in a smile. She was truly graceful, I imagined her as a dancer, and how her body would naturally sway to the rhythm of music, charming all that she encountered.
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But her expression quickly turned to one of fear. Her smile transformed into a gasp as her eyes widened with terror. She screamed. It was an awful piercing sound, a frequency that only young children can accomplish. She scampered off into the forest as I reeled in pain from her shriek. I didnt attempt to look up, I simply cradled my face and felt my eyes water with tears. I couldnt understand why she ran away; she seemed quite pleased to be in the presence of a stranger. I approached the giant tree and sat on her swing, trying to determine where she might have run off to. The sadness I felt from terrifying an innocent child overwhelmed me, and I sobbed. The wood supporting me then gave out, and I collapsed on the ground. The swing had broken into several pieces; the wood appeared rotten and aged. Strange, considering it was quite sturdy when I first sat down. I then noticed the grass deadening around my feet. As I turned around, I saw the ruin that lie in my wake.

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Everything had died. The trees were reduced to a mass of limbs, extending out from the ground like veins. Some were slumped over, decayed and defeated. The grass was an ailing brown, a stark contrast from the lush green it donned just moments ago. Even the creatures of the woodland seemed lifeless. I understood why the girl had run away from me. I was a monster. I brought devastation to the perfect world. I tainted Heaven. Even the distinguished mother-tree was beginning to rot and die; and as my flood of death extended up its trunk, I felt the world slipping away. The sounds of the dead forest diminished as my vision receded into a veil of nothingness once again. A roar of thunder jolted me awake. Rain pelted my bedroom window, signaling the start of my dreary Saturday. My vivid dreams still ran through my mind and I wondered how a depressed girl like me could lay waste to paradise. I imagined that, in that moment, I was the devil himself, laying siege on Gods kingdom and swing-girl was one of his many angels. I didnt belong in Heaven. I was ugly and disgraceful. ***
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How was your weekend? It was Dr. Schmitz. Mom scheduled an appointment for Monday after I refused to leave my bed for the last two days. She tried everything to coax me out of my room, but I didnt give. On Sunday, she cooked her homemade lasagna. The savoring smells of freshly baked pasta crept up the stairs as she cheerily leapt into my room, proclaiming I made you your favorite! Cmon, Sarah, its waiting for you! I stayed in bed. She ended up bringing me a slice, asking that I eat something. I didnt. Your mother tells me youve been refusing to leave your room, and that you didnt eat yesterday. Id like you to tell me whats going on, Sarah. I sat in his office, my knees drawn up to my chin, with my arms wrapped around them. I stared at the floor, inattentive, wishing that I was back in my bedroom, if only to lie there and waste away. Dr. Schmitz did his best to get me talking. Have you been sleeping well lately?
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I sobbed, the memories of tainting Heaven flooded back to me. No, I replied. Are you having nightmares, hallucinations, or paralysis? Or is it just insomnia? Everything. Would you like to talk about it? I sighed, and decided that talking about it was for the best. I told him about the deathly figure that haunted me and paralyzed me; I detailed the sensation of dying, my dream of ruining paradise, and how I terrified the girl. I talked about my feelings of worthlessness and that I believed I was too ugly and miserable to be loved. Your mother loves you, though. She cares a lot about you. Yeah, I said, but I didnt earn her love. It was always there. What about your boyfriend? James just wants sex. The doctor raised his brow. Are you sure about that? Thats what the figure said. James is manipulating me into loving him.
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Dr. Schmitz grunted, and proceeded to scrawl in his notes. My eyes darted around the room; they were bored of staring at carpet, and craved something more interesting to focus on. I examined the many knickknacks that populated my psychiatrists office. His bookshelf was littered with massive treatises on mental health, along with pictures of his family. Two kids, a boy and girl. They were beautiful. Dr. Schmitz also had several books about dogs he had multiple editions of The Genius of Dogs and he was subscribed to the Dog Lovers Digest. Surprisingly, I didnt find any dog photos in his office. It was a minor detail that told the story of how Dr. Schmitz was once a dog owner, until his beloved pet passed away, and the fond memories saddened him to the point of disposing his memoirs. On the back wall was a quote inscribed in elegant writing. It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light. Alright, the doctor began, it seems to me that your low selfesteem is manifesting itself in a lot of negative ways.

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He went on to tell me that its important to remember that everything Ive experienced has been solely internal, originating from myself entirely. And the sleep paralysis you suffer from, its certainly unpleasant. But this figure you describe, its just your minds way of projecting your paralysis. This is a common phenomenon, and totally normal. Dr. Schmitz sent me home with an assignment. Focus on a positive mental attitude, and fight the negative thoughts my brain projects. Dont let this man hold you hostage, you can fight him, he said, he lives in your mind, you just have to take control. I left his office feeling better than I have in weeks. The boost of confidence I felt from being in control of my situation was energizing, and I finished all the homework I had originally failed to complete. I was productive, and sensed a return of my happiness. Even if I was to confront the figure again, I knew how to defeat him. My mom was quite shocked to find me so cheerful. I told her why I was so unhappy over the last few weeks, and she understood.
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Ugly? she scoffed, please, youre a gorgeous young lady, and your man is crazy about you. She was right. I had already been texting James throughout the day. He was glad I was feeling better, and we were going to go out for a movie on Tuesday night. Im so happy to hear that, babe, he said, I knew you would come around. As for my mom and I, we ate leftover lasagna and watched reruns of Nip/Tuck together. *** I slept soundly that night, the whole experience being very calming and pleasurable. My bed felt comfy and secure, and the darkness in my room was inviting instead of grim. I dreamt sweetly of James and I picnicking at Kernersville Lake, our basket was full of scrumptious food that seemed more fitting for a Thanksgiving dinner I even recall eating an entire stuffed turkey. We kept fending off our eats from a persistent ant invasion; they kept lifting our food and carrying it away, like something out of a cartoon.
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The sense of safety I felt was shattered when I awoke. My nightmarish bully had returned, as well as the paralysis. He was standing behind my mom, who was on her knees and bound by duct tape. My eyes met my mothers. Her expression was of pure terror, sweat beaming down her face, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. She screamed incessantly, but it was muffled by the tape fastened over her mouth. Well now, the figure began, correct me if Im wrong, but you visited your shrink yesterday, yes? I couldnt respond I only had control over my eyes. I wasnt able to move my eyelids, but they blinked involuntarily. I managed a whimper. You told him all about me, his speech slowly degraded from brevity into aggravation. You told him that you feared me, that I ruined your life, and that I shattered your confidence. You said you wanted to be rid of me, and that you would trade anything in the world for it. He stepped out from behind my kneeled mother and approached the bed. He ran his cold, deadly fingers over my ankles.
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Thats correct, isnt it? Youd trade anything. You said it. I was there. He gripped my ankle tightly, forcing another whimper out of me. Tell me you fucking said it! I wept uncontrollably, and tears burst out of my eyes. He seemed pleased with this response, then released my ankle and smirked. He unsheathed a large cutting knife from his cloak, and turned his attention back to my mother. It was then, at that moment, that I began to understand. My heart pounded in my chest and my breathing became fiercely brief and rapid. I was nothing more than a miserable and tortured girl I had become truly distressed. Anything in the world, he ran his bony fingers under my mothers chin, even your mother? I protested as much as I could in my incapacitated state. Oh no, its too late now, he said, and Im afraid that Im all out of pity.

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He moved his hand from her chin to the tape covering her mouth, and in one swift motion he tore it from her face. Agh! she cried; the tape had left a nasty red mark. She lowered her head and did her best to compose herself until she looked back at me. I love you, honey, she said, its alright. Ill always be here for you, in your heart. My face was drenched in tears, and they began to distort my vision. My mother became a distinct blur in my field of view. I blinked rapidly to clear my eyes, as I prepared to witness her final moments. Dont look. Close your eyes. Pretend its not happening. I wish I could. She continued, I love you so much. Its all going to be okay. Dont lo From my moms neck burst a fountain of red. Her jugular had been slit, and she collapsed to the ground, flailing. My mothers blood sprayed across the room, covering my floor, bed sheets, walls, furniture, and even me. It made a sickening sound as it hissed out of her neck; and
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I could hear nauseating choking sounds as blood filled her lungs. A scream blared in my throat, and my sobbing became overwhelming. The Nightmare examined his bloodstained knife, and allowed me a few moments for composure. He then he belted into laughter and spoke: Oh shit, that never gets old. I did my best to furrow my brow in furious anger. It was a strange contrast with the wetness of my face. Hey, you said it, not me. You said you would trade anything, he paused, and then he spoke his final words to me, its been nice knowing you. He vanished. My mothers corpse didnt.

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