When I was about 9 or 10, I lived in a three story victorian era house, the attic being the 3rd story. My bedroom door was right under the entrance to the attic. From time to time we would get bats in our house, and the ones that would be stuck in chimneys after we had sealed them for the winter just happened to be only in mine. I always felt like I was being watched in the house, no matter how many family members or friends I had around. The most unnerving rooms in the house, to me, were all on the 2nd story. My bedroom, my parents bedroom, and the upstairs bathroom. The only other room on the 2nd story was the guest room, which only held exercise supplies and a blow up mattress. I remember I would sometimes sleep in the guest room because I was too afraid to go into my own room, despite ants biting me as I slept in the guest room.
So you’re probably wondering, “Why would you be so afraid of your own room?” Well, I’ll tell you why. Within the first few days of us living in the house, I woke up in the middle of the night. My hair at the time was quite long. I slowly rolled over onto my hair, only to see a huge rat napping on it. I was terrified, and slowly pulled my hair out from under it, lightly tugging its body across my pillow. I managed to roll out of my bed and immediately sprinted to my parents room across the hall. I told my dad what I saw, so he came back to take a look. Of course, there was no rat in sight. I was relieved, disappointed, and fearful all at once. Relieved the rat was gone, disappointed my dad didn’t see it, and fearful it was hiding in my room somewhere. Luckily, I never experienced that again.
I don’t exactly remember how long I had been living in the house before this next experience, but it definitely scared me enough to never be comfortable in my own room again. I was lying on my stomach, staring into my closet, where my “night light” was. (the night light was just the closet light.) I had been staring into my closet for only a few minutes, and I was still wide awake. I blinked, and instantly everything changed around me. I was paralyzed from the shoulders down, my eyes and neck being the only moving parts of my body. Everything had begun to violently shake as if there were an earthquake, and neon lights were flashing all around me. Things fell off of shelves, my mantle, etc. Glass and porcelain knick knacks shattered to pieces as they met my wooden floors. I had almost immediately began sweating so profusely my legs and back were drenched. I was panting through my nose, since I was unable to open my mouth. I just wanted it all to stop, so I slowly began to turn my head the other way. Before I could get my face out of my pillow, I suddenly feel hands pushing the back of my head, forcing me to nearly suffocate. They eventually stop, and I manage to turn my head the rest of the way, away from all the ruckus. As I did so, the palms of the hands had moved to the middle of my spine, grinding harder and harder until the pain was nearly unbearable. My scalp and face were now soaked in sweat aswell. A feeling of someone sitting on my lower back with their legs on either side of me became apparent, and I truly started to panic. I also began to hear a little girl screaming into my ear for me to wake up. When I say screaming, I don’t mean yelling. I mean damn near banshee status screaming. I eventually began using all of my strength to move my feet. After what seemed to be hours, one of my feet finally jerks. I squeeze my eyes shut, focusing all my strength on tossing whatever was on my back off. I take in a huge breath, gritting my teeth, and finally flpping my back towards the closet I had been staring at before. A freezing cold washed over me as my covers slipped off only the slightest bit and a hard THUD rang in my ears. My bed isnt completely against the wall, but in that instant, my mattress was pushed all the way against it. As soon as I had caught my breath enough to know I was awake, I threw my duvet over my face, shaking profusely. I laid in silence for a few minutes, only being able to hear my heavy breathing. The last thing I heard before passing out was a whisper of, “I hate you!” in the same little girls’ voice.