Lindsey’s Story
The first time I
saw Stephen, he painted a hex sign on my right arm, and I couldn’t move my
fingers for three hours. I was six years
old then. The next time I saw him Stephen was eighteen and his power was ten times
that of what it was ten years ago. When you’re six people think you’re just
making this sort of thing up. They think you have some sort of imaginary
friend. It’s not until you’re sixteen that it's no longer cute and they decide to have you
committed for making up boys who can literally freeze you.
Seeing
Stephen the second time happened about two years ago now. I told the same story
to countless doctors in my time at Smythe’s Mental Healthcare Estate for Young
People. I was waiting for the bus after going out to see a movie with some friends
when I encountered a boy who had then frozen me in place. I knew it was Stephen
only when he began retracing the same spot on my right arm that he had painted
that sigil on exactly ten years ago. Only this time it wasn’t just my fingers but my
entire body that was immobilized.
He dragged me
completely conscious to a dark alley. There I remember trying to get away but
he laughed, as I couldn’t even move. As I lay on the cold concrete unable to
move a muscle. He didn’t do anything more to me but his touch had burned a mark
into my skin that has yet to fade. He didn’t speak out loud but instead I heard his
words in my mind.
“You’re mine now,
Lindsey.” Stephen said, his green eyes bearing into my soul. “You will always be mine and you will come to me when
called. I could make you do anything right now and you would not be able to
fight it. But I won’t. I don’t need to... yet.”
Then he left. Just
like that. After I got home I spent weeks researching the depths of the
Internet for any kind of monster like this boy. I found other girls with
similar experiences. All of whom were too afraid to tell their friends and
families about them. Some of the young men with this power used it for good and
some not so much… Many of these young women were assault victims of the predators or had been forced to commit some horrible crime.
The ones who seemed to be doing good with their powers always asked for a favor
in return and sometimes that was where their evil came to light. For when you
promised something to one of them they held you to it without fail.
I began to have
nightmares and Stephen was the star in them. One day I also began seeing him
everywhere I went but I couldn’t tell if it was really him or not. I had
to tell someone and of course when I did I instantly regretted this decision.
My mother came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with me when I came to her. That’s when my stay at the Estate began.
I’ve lived in fear that he might come for me
ever since the last time I was frozen. Of course, this is what they call
paranoid-schizophrenia in a psych ward. Hallucinations, anxiety, and panic
attacks fitting their diagnosis perfectly. They might also call it PTSD if they believed me. If anyone would just
believe that what happened was a supernatural violation of my mind and body. Instead I must
live in fear of my attacker at all times because not a single soul will trust
that I am sane.
On my 168th day at
Smythe’s as I climb into my bed I resolve to start pretending I’m “cured” so I
can at least get out of here. Anything is better than this. Then just as I slip under the covers I hear a
lilting voice say, “Lindsey… Come out, come out, wherever you are...” and I freeze.
No comments:
Post a Comment