Part 1: The White Man : nosleep (reddit.com)
Part 2: The White Man (part 2) : nosleep (reddit.com)
Part 3: The White Man (part 3) : nosleep (reddit.com)
That sound immediately set me on edge. I bolted up and looked around. He was next to my door. God Damnit.
“Change your mind?” He asked.
“No.”
“You will.” He laughed.
I spent another sleepless night trying to keep myself occupied. It didn’t work very well. The harder I fought; the more questions flooded my mind. Who is he really? How will this end? Was he telling the truth last time? How long will this fight last? Is he demonic or an apparition? I didn’t bother asking him. He enjoyed the anxiety it caused me.
I was scared, but this time I kept a brave face. I still went to school and work. Still went out with friends. I was able to pretend for about a month even though I was falling apart inside.
My doctor had put me on antidepressants. This made everything worse. Once they kicked in, I was angry all the time. My dad and I fought constantly. We had one argument about me using all of the milk, and I wanted to hurt him for it. This fight made me stop taking the medicine, but I think it was too late.
Dad started having a lot of problems with his heart. He would have a heart attack, go to the hospital for a few days, come home. A month later, another heart attack, hospital, home. He had a difficult time keeping jobs. It doesn’t matter how hard you work. If you can’t be there all the time, nobody wants you.
He was more important to me than anyone. I was so afraid of him leaving me alone, I even prayed for help. At the time it didn’t seem to help, he kept going through the same cycle. My worry for him caused my downfall.
When I was out with friends I started drinking. I noticed that when I was drunk, I could still hear the music box every night. But I didn’t have to see the white man anymore. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew he was still there. I just didn’t care. It was easier to pretend life was fine when i couldn’t see.
This caused more fighting with Dad, which made me spiral further. I drank more and more often. Then I started smoking pot instead. It was wonderful. I didn’t have to pretend anymore because I was numb. I started sleeping again. I am ashamed of myself, but I continued up until my dad passed away. I think my deterioration is what killed him.
That man tried so hard to get me help. I know he loved me more than anything in the world. He didn’t listen though. You can’t fix a problem that you don’t understand. I never did blame him for that. You probably think I’m crazy as well. That’s okay.
I had graduated by this time, and I had stopped drinking and smoking the day after his funeral. I moved in with my stepdad Paul, aunt Liz, and brothers. Things…weren’t great there.
I had traded my hostess job for a night-shift gas station associate. This way I could make sure my brothers got on the bus in the mornings, get homework done, and have dinner.
I knew some of the problems in that household, but I never could have guessed how bad it was. My aunt Liz did not know how to cook, so pretty much the only food in the house were various ready to eat snacks, USUALLY everything to make a sandwich, and Dr. Pepper that nobody was allowed to drink.
When I went to work, he would be hiding inside a shadow watching me. When I walked the two miles to get home every morning, he would crawl behind me. At home, he would always stand very close. He was silent this entire time.
Eventually, my aunt told me that she would be going to work with Paul. This meant they would be gone for two weeks at a time. She made me quit my job because nobody else would be home with the kids. They did leave me grocery money, but I had no way to get to a store.
Being stuck in the house my depression was so much worse. I had no energy. I wasn’t interested in anything. I just let my body go through the motions.
The only thing I could think of to be a little happier was to talk to people around my age. I started using Facebook more. Somehow, I stumbled onto a group for people with depression. I shared my story with them, excluding the man. And I would listen to others. Talking them through their problems made me feel better. Eventually I downloaded a dating app.
Well, I talked to a decent amount of people for a few months, but I couldn’t really connect with them. Until I met Levi. He was dumb as a rock, but he was funny, sweet and compassionate.
We talked for a couple weeks before we decided to meet. Unfortunately, we were in different states. Since I didn’t actually know him, I was not taking the chance of him being around my brothers. So, as dumb as it sounds, I had him pick me up from home and we spent the night together in a hotel.
I set it for a day when I knew Paul and Liz would be home. I was picked up late in the morning, when nobody was home, and I said I was going to a friend’s house for the night. It was a good night, and we had a lot of fun. He asked to start dating the next morning and I said yes. I waited for about a week and told my family that I met this guy and wanted him to come meet them.
The man stopped following me during this period. It was wonderful and I was so happy. Paul and Liz were home more often so I had more freedom. Sometimes he would come stay with me for a few days, and I would go to his house for a few days at a time.
During this peaceful time, I became pregnant. I was terrified. I didn’t know anything about babies, and I couldn’t even support myself in this situation. I had considered all my options but was leaning towards a closed adoption. I wanted this child to have the best life possible. Everyone around me convinced me to keep it though. The White Man was back again.
The pregnancy was terrible. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, my entire body always hurt, and I started having random black outs. The doctors kept saying I was fine, up until the end. I was told that I had preeclampsia, and my blood pressure was spiking high and low. They sent me to a hospital. The doctors there said I would be induced the next day.
The white man and I were alone in the hospital room. He stood by my side as I repeatedly called and texted Levi to come be with me. He kept telling me that he was trying to figure out how to get there. I had my baby girl all alone. I named her Echo. He showed up the next day. I should have been mad. But the relief of having him with me was so much stronger.
If I was going to keep this kid, I wanted to do it right. Levi and I talked. I would move in with him and his dad so I could find a job. They lived right outside a town, so it wouldn’t be a big deal to walk back and forth.
After months of putting in applications, and calling to check on my application status, I couldn’t get a job. Eventually Levi tried. He found one within a week. My sweet caring partner changed once he started working. He started making cruel comments about my body. I still had blackouts and would get random bruises. He kept telling me that when I blacked out, I must be sneaking away to cheat on him. I had lost my sex drive because I hated myself so much. So, he raped me when he felt like it. He convinced me that I was a terrible person and deserved this treatment. He ignored our child and spent all his time at home playing video games.
One night he just decided not to come home. Our daughter was 4 months old at this point. I was so afraid that something had happened to him. But when he finally answered his phone, he was obviously at a party and there was another woman swearing at me. I asked if he would come back for his daughter. He said no. I packed up everything I could for me and Echo. Mel was amazing. She brought me home and let me stay with her while I waited for assisted housing.
My Echo was eight months old when she passed. I remember that day very clearly. I woke up, made myself a cup of coffee, and went to check on her. She was already gone. I called 911, but she was blue and limp. They ruled it as SIDS. The white man was laughing hysterically.
I’m sorry, but I haven’t been entirely honest with you. Today is the five-year anniversary of Echo leaving me. Every night I fall asleep to the tinkling music. Every day, the man stays with me, close, but not touching. He still hasn’t stopped laughing. When I fall asleep, all I have are images of my past. Remembering everything has brought me so much pain. I told him that he can have my body, as long as he allows me to apologize to everyone and explain my reasoning. Goodbye and good luck.