There's somebody standing in the corner of my room. He tells me things. He tells me to do things. Sometimes, he tells me other people are lying. He tells me not to tell anyone he's there. And I listen, because he's scary. But I think they're starting to figure out.
They see my eyes dart his way when he speaks. They see my confusion when I try to separate the voices. They see my hesitation when he tells me they're wrong. I think they're starting to figure it out, and I can't let that happen. He told me I can't. That's how the trouble really started.
This morning, Tom came by to see me again. People have been coming by often since I stopped going outside. Since he told me I had to stop going outside. Tom was telling me I needed to get out. People were starting to worry, Mom and Dad especially. He made some good points, but I can't go outside. Because he says I can't. And Tom was making him angry. Every time Tom said something, I could feel him getting angrier. I knew that was bad. I didn't want him to be angry. It made my stomach hurt and my head pound. I tried to tell Tom to stop talking, that I couldn't go outside, that he needed to leave RIGHT NOW.
But Tom wouldn't listen. Tom wouldn't listen and I had no choice. It wasn't my fault.
There's a lot of blood and there's somebody standing in the corner of my room.