Help. I need help. Hopefully someone can see where I’m sending this from. I really don’t know if this message will make it, but it’s my last hope. I’m hiding, expecting to die, and I really need someone here. Even if I do die, I just don’t want to die alone.
This all started when I was 4. A long time ago, I know. I always knew there was something wrong with the vanity my mother insisted on putting in my room. It was passed down through generations of my family, so we knew where it came from, what it had seen, what could’ve possibly lurked within it. But nothing could have prepared me for what came out of it this afternoon.
At 28 I still live with my parents. I have no choice with the rent prices these days. They’re busy packing up to move to Florida and retire, and they’re down in Florida now, touring their new home. I have no idea what I’m going to do when they’re gone. They made it clear I can’t come with them. They made it clear they’re leaving me behind, with that vanity. I think they can feel it too.
None of us have ever felt comfortable around this vanity. Maybe that’s why it was always shoved into my room. I was the youngest, so I got forgotten quite a bit. My room was the only one my dad never fixed up in the house; I lived perpetually with school bus yellow walls and an ugly salt and pepper carpet, staring into the sunny abyss and just hoping they would remember me so my decor could change. But they weren’t the ones who were paying attention to me.
I began to hear a whisper at 12 years old. I remember it vividly, because my middle school mind ran myself ragged thinking of reasons why the whisper might be there. I remember watching Avatar the Last Airbender’s premiere with my brother, and when he went up to bed I felt empowered to try and contact the spirit world in an attempt to set whoever plagued me free. Free from my home, so they could rest in peace. I was inexperienced, and I was desperate. But nothing set my tormentor free that night. And still, 16 years later, I hear the whispers. I feel the hair rise on my neck every night as I try to fall into a nightmareless sleep, and know there are so many eyes on me, just staring, waiting, for something to happen.
I tried freeing the spirit again and again and again. I tried banishing the spirit. I tried covering up the mirror. I tried every trick in the book. Nothing could convince this entity to leave me alone. And the more I tried, the more whispers there were. We were bound. They began to follow me to school, causing odd things to happen to people in my presence. At first something fell off my vanity, in private, so no one could see. But then unexplainable things began to happen all around me, causing other kids to steer clear. I was the weird girl. I was the cursed one. If you spent too much time around me you just might die.
That’s what happened to my best friend, and what kicked off the rumors. I was having a sleepover at her house. We had just finished playing COD zombies, and I won once again, feeling on top of the world… feeling safe, away from the vanity. But just as that safety began to settle in, like the entities could feel it, the lights began to flicker. The whispers began, not directed toward me; I couldn’t tell what was being said, but by the look in Savannah’s eyes I could tell they were speaking directly to her. And they weren’t saying anything good.
Next thing I knew Savannah shot up, a glassy, glazed look in her eye. She sprinted up the stairs and I followed. She ripped open her patio door and sprinted out into the darkness. Never to be seen again. I haven’t seen her, but I’ve heard her. Her voice has joined the symphony of whispers in my ear, never sleeping, never relenting. Always urging me to do terrible things. But I can’t. I won’t.
Today, as I was carefully curling my hair, a hand shot out from the mirror in the vanity, pale as the full moon, with grotesque claws, and grabbed hold of my curling iron, pressed it to my cheek and urged me to relent… to allow them to follow through with their plan. Their plan to escape from their eternal prison and wreak havoc on the world as we know it. They haven’t told me details; they say I’m not trustworthy enough yet, but they escaped the mirror. There’s dozens of them, urging me to let them out of the house. I can’t do it, and as long as I don’t I’m trapped in here with them.
I was never going to bother anyone with this, but it’s now out of my hands. I don’t want to be trapped here. I don’t want to die here, alone, trying to keep them at bay. But worse than that, I’ve begun to feel the urge to listen to them. I’ve begun to feel them take over my consciousness and direct my actions. I’m scared. I’m worried I’m going to do something terrible. Please, please, if any of you know any way to help, I need any ideas you have.
I need to go now. They’ve come back upstairs. I know they’re coming, and I don’t have much time. If they convince me then none of us have much time. Please help me.