Hello everyone, I really don’t know how I am to start these sorts of things.
But I guess, I better start by introducing myself. My name is Adam. I am 21 years old, and I truly don’t think I will be seeing 22.
How come? Well, let me start at the beginning.
Ever since I was a child, I have been seeing someone following me. A woman in full white, with black hair. She never seemed to move closer, always staying at a distance. Even when I was inside, that feeling of being watched was ever present.
The first time I remember seeing her, I was 5. My mother, father, and I were on a trip to see my grandparents. We had been on the road for what to my child’s mind, felt like it had been an eternity. It was starting to get dark, and I remember myself slowly start to dose off. (Fall asleep for those who speak proper English.)
Suddenly, I was jolted awake by both my mother and father screaming. They were horrible, piercing screams. I managed to let out a cry as the car flipped, then everything went black.
I remember coming to. I was upside down, the feeling of blood rushing to my head. With a weakened voice, I called for my mother… to which I got no response. I started to cry looking around for anyone who could hear me.
As I looked around, I was suddenly face to face with a woman who stared into what felt like my soul. Her eyes were black sunken holes, that while you could not see any eyes, you could feel them gaze upon you. Her skin was a pale white. It was as white as the fresh snow that covers the ground on the first day of winter; her hair was so black that it seemed to be sucking the colour out of the things surrounding her.
The feature that scared me the most, however, was her big, toothy, grin. It was so large that it seemed to be much wider than her natural face. It was stretched out as though it was a rubber band being pulled beyond its limit.
As I stared in shock, I heard her start to whisper, “You’re not ready yet.”
Her voice sounded like a mixture of multiple voices and accents, all speaking in unison with each other. As she finished speaking, the world went black again.
I remember groggily opening my eyes to a white ceiling above me. I slowly sat up with light tears in my eyes. I looked around and the first thing I noticed was that I was in a large white bed, sitting next to a window that seemed to take up the whole wall. On the wall directly in front of me there was another large white bed exactly the same as the one I was in. The wall was covered in wires, machines, and stickers. I was in the hospital.
Continuing to look around, I saw my grandmother sitting next to me, tears in her eyes. The second she noticed that I started to stir, I heard her call for a nurse. With my eyes still foggy, I looked out the window and into the park below. That is when I saw the woman again, she stood what felt like miles away. Just standing there facing my direction. I felt her eyes fixed on me, it was as though she could see me perfectly, even though she was just a blur. Still exhausted from the whole ordeal, I leaned back into the bed and fell asleep.
Unfortunately, I lost both of my parents in the crash. Afterwards I had to start living with my grandparents, which I didn’t mind. I mean, I truly love my grandparents. As you would expect, the whole ordeal was a lot for a little mind to comprehend, so I was put through years of counseling.
Counselor after counselor, shrink after shrink, I was observed, tested, and comforted. They told me that the Black-Haired Woman was just a guilt driven hallucination, caused from the survivor’s guilt I felt. I could not understand why I saw her everywhere. Even with the meds and therapy, she never disappeared. Always staring, always standing at the same distance, never… moving closer.
My life slowly moved forward, and other than the woman, my life started to become what some would consider to be rather normal. I grew up, made friends, did well in school… you know, “normal.” I was even tricked by my teacher to get into basketball.
By the time I was 16, I stood at almost 6ft tall. I was rather slender and I was one of the tallest in my class. That was probably the reason my P.E. Teacher was so keen to see me play basketball.
I know I used the word tricked, but I really did enjoy the sport, as most basketball courts in my neighbourhood were indoor. It was a peaceful break from seeing the woman. While I could always feel her gaze, the building’s walls were enough to hide her from my vision.
The years continued to pass, and basketball continued to be my only escape from her. The only time I was freed from having her in my vision. Unfortunately, these moments only lasted for two years. On my 18th birthday, things changed.
I was in my bedroom watching YouTube videos, some highlights of my favourite basketball games, when suddenly, I thought I heard whispering. At the start it was unintelligible, I couldn’t make out any words at all. But, as you probably guessed, it got worse. Day by day, the words became clearer and clearer, and each time I heard a new word, I became more and more frightened.
The whispering never stopped. Hour after hour, day after day, and night after night, I heard it everywhere I went… nowhere was safe. I felt like I was going insane. I couldn’t understand how no one could hear her…why was it only me?
I remember one day I was just so tired and drained, and the whispering had gotten so bad, I snapped and screamed at the top of my lungs, “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” It was while I was in the middle of class.
Afterwards, I stopped and looked around the classroom. Everyone’s eyes were on me. You could see they were judging me, even my fucken teacher looked at me like I was insane.
(Who was he to fucken talk, dressing like a fucken hippy from the sixties, reeking of pot. Who the fuck did he think he was? Oh, shit… I am sorry. I lost myself there for a moment. It seems every time I relive that day, I break a little. I mean, it was the day everything got worse for me after all.)
From that day on, people started to distance themselves from me. My best friends, classmates, even the entire basketball team. Everyone left me and I felt so alone.
I dropped out of basketball and stopped going to classes. I just disappeared into my own despair. My grandparents started to worry about me, they could see from my appearance that I was unraveling. They couldn’t handle the fact I was spending days at a time awake, only sleeping when I finally passed out from exhaustion. They felt the only thing they could do was to get me help. This came in the form of institutionalising me. I was carted away to Cherry Farm, one of the biggest mental institutes in the South Island of New Zealand.
It was there I met her, the girl who would truly help me. Her name was Susan.
I think I will leave this here… I will hopefully return later this coming week and continue where I left off.
God bless you all,
A.