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It’s too late for me, but you can save yourself.

I am hunted by demons; haunted by ghosts. I sleep in fits and gasps and wake up with the terrors. The demons leer at me from just beyond sight. The ghosts… The ghosts are far worse with their stern gazes, down-turned lips, and those deep dead eyes.

No, don’t come over. It’s far too dangerous. But I say this knowing full well that you won’t. That you hadn’t even thought of it. I’m just an afterthought in your mind. A plaything. A discarded doll in a pile of scrap clothing. I know this.

I will stay in this locked and shuttered room. I will fight the demons and the ghosts the best way I know how. Don’t think of helping me; I know you can do that.

In the mirror, the face is not mine. Not the one I recognize. It peers at me in hatred and loathing. I did nothing to deserve this! I yell at the visage to go away! To bring me back! I get nothing but that hating gaze.

And the ghosts. They laugh. They laugh without humor, hope, or joy. They circle me, endlessly, whispering of my failures in voices too faint to hear. It’s enough to drive one mad, but I will not go.

During the day I peer through the slats covering my window and watch my neighbors. I think they are all demons, too. They wait to mock me, to judge me. I will not give them that satisfaction. I think you’re a demon, too. You have all the hallmarks of one. You suck at me, leaching away my soul.

Maybe I should go. Let the demons drag me in to their blackened world while the ghosts dance around keening their pleasure at another soul lost. It’s not in me not to fight. My inaction is reaction to action.I fight though I will lose. You will not help me; it’s not your nature.

Daytime is bad, but nothing like the night when fears rise from the ground and reach out with wispy hands. I will be ready. With the darkness comes the Darkness.