02/25

Dear me,

I’m writing to you tonight because horrible things have been happening recently. I thought it was all a dream at first, but at this point I don’t think it is.

Three times now it’s happened. The first time, Mom tried to put her stuff in my room again, and I couldn’t take it. It was just one box, but after living with her shit piled so high that I can’t see the walls; packed so dense that the rats had to gnaw tunnels through it to get to their nests; coated in so much grime that it’s given me chronic breathing issues (among other things) ... the idea of having anything at all in my room was enough to trigger me. I screamed at her and threw the box, and I felt this surge of fury(?) filled my whole body, and this other sensation. It was like the painful oddly satisfying strain when you stretch your muscles. I felt it throughout my whole body at once as I somehow grew much taller-- my head was touching the ceiling. Despite that, fury still consumed me, and I screamed at her with a terrifying demonic rasp-- a sound no normal person could have made. I wanted to grab her and… hurt her do something. I wanted to so badly, but the strangeness of everything hit me finally, and I forgot about the box. Horrified, I shrunk back down to normal, and I just stood there in shock. Mom had sprinted out of sight by then. When I eventually left my room, she was nowhere to be found. I guess she went somewhere else for a few days.

When Mom came back, she described me as this horrible faceless monster. Pitch-black with particles oozing from my silhouette. Freakishly long arms, legs and fingers like branches dangling from my body. I thought she was nuts. I thought there was no way. She mentioned that she planned on getting a priest to perform an exorcism, so I immediately started trying to convince her it was all a dream. I thought I managed convince her, but I guess I didn’t...

The second time was a set up. I got home from school to find a large pile of useless garbage in the corner. Instead of my usual panic-attack-like response, the same thing happened-- but this time I searched for her, like I was hunting her almost but she wasn’t in the house. Instead, there was some guy, a priest I assume, shouting hymns or something at me. It only freaked me out more--would anyone else have reacted calmly? I’ve never felt any fury so intense. It almost wasn’t fury anymore; it was just this transcendent need. I felt like I was going insane, like my body would literally explode if I didn’t do something.

I don’t know what I did, but something unsettling happened to him. I grabbed him (and sure enough, my arms and hands looked just like she said they did), and he trembled like a guitar string. I watched black particles surge from my hands and arms into him, and he started laughing uncontrollably. Confused, I let go, but he continued. His laugh turned more and more maddening over the next few minutes. I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there again. And then his laughter was cut off and he fell flat on his face. I watched black splotches form on his skin and clothes. I shrank and the urges dissipated, and then all I could feel were chills and my stomach turning. Once I had fully turned back to normal, I decided it was my turn to run. I didn’t want to face the consequences or see the end result, whatever they might have been, but now I wish I stayed just a little longer. I still don’t know what actually happens to people when I do it.

The third time was when she called the police. I hadn’t come home; I was hiding in Ariadne’s basement that she always keeps empty just for me when I come over. Mom didn’t call them to find me and bring me back home; she called them to arrest me. The police found me a couple days after the second incident. They tried to cuff me, but I could feel another meltdown starting. I tried to get away before I went insane again, but they threw me to the ground, and it happened again. Ariadne’s sister (Victoria) heard my shrieking and rushed downstairs. She started speaking some different language which I now know was a spell (I just found out the Copelands are all “witches”, which I don’t know yet if I believe or not. More on that some other day probably).

After that, I don’t remember what happened. Victoria won’t tell me, which is how I know it was bad. The Copelands are letting me stay with them, but they’re very careful around me. They insist that I stay in the basement as much as possible. They bring me food and water (I’ve been so thirsty recently, it’s weird) and anything else I need. The carpet is old, the vintage wallpaper is stained, and the light flickers occasionally, but I kind of like it down here. It smells like mold down here though. I don’t know if I like that part or not. Breathing in mold used to be my way of getting out of the house and getting somewhere clean (a hospital), but here, I don’t feel the need to get away. It’s peaceful here. Safe. At least, as long as I don't turn into a monster again.

I don't know what's happening to me, but I sure as hell hope it goes away. When I think about it too much I can feel that feeling stir inside me. Even right now. I think this has been enough recollecting for today.