It's painful sometimes. My head throbs, and my brain convulses, and it is just painful. Then there are the voices. Mabey they are in my head, but they come from somewhere. I hear them all the time. At home when I hear them I can understand why. The strange part is when I am out somewhere. I hear the voices screaming at me, shouting, they yell hateful things to me. It reminds me of my parents. They used to hate me. They would scream all the time about everything. I'd go to school with bruises, and cuts. My friends parents saw, but they never said anything to anyone. Then one night. My parents died. That's when the voices started. That's when the migraines began.
My headaches are so bad that I black out. Wherever I am, everything goes black. That isn't the beginning of my problems. I have many more. The smell kills me sometimes. The people who used to live here spread layers upon layers of lime beneath the house. I think it is to keep the monster down there. Yeah, I know there are no such things as monsters. I, in fact, know there are. I have seen this one. He is down in my basement. I have had people go down into my basement, and they don't come up. It is really sad, because I know that the monster has eaten them.
When I get upset, the migraines are worse. It always happens when I get angry. Sometimes, all I have to do is think about a headache and it comes on and I blackout. Strange.
It all started when I was 16. I remember Nick. He was this boy, not from my school, but next door. His family was native american. When I would get off of the bus, there he would be. He was sometimes out during the day, but mostly at night. Nick, I remember, took alot of migraine pills. I mean ALOT.
One night I snuck out of my house and walked over to him and started a conversation. We talked about two hours and found out we had a lot in common. I also found out that his parents and him had been exiled from their tribe. They were made to leave their home and find one elsewhere. When I asked him why he just dodged the question and said I needed to get back home before I got caught. We were best friends after that. I had to keep it a secret though. I wasn't aloud to have anything to do with boys. It wasn't aloud. Nick had told me how concerned he was because my parents were always shouting at me. He could hear them all the way to his house, which wasn't that very far. He too, started noticing all the bruises, and cuts. They used to make him mad, so mad that he would grab his head in pain and run into his house without saying anything.
Then that night came. My father had come home drunk into my bedroom and just started beating me. It was storming outside and nobody could hear my screams from the thunder. The beating was bad. My father grabbed my baton from school and started hitting me in the head with it, and everywhere else. He slammed my baton into my face and head so many times that everything went black.
I woke up a few times, I thought. I thought Nick was there, but he was naked and covered in blood holding me. I blacked out again. I went in and out of conciousness that night. At one point, I saw Nick walking around the room, seeming to tear everything to shreds. At another point, I blacked out as Nick tore into my back with this fingers. Then I woke up the next morning to find him gone.
I looked around my room and blood was everywhere. I was covered in blood, but I had no cuts. I remembered my beating, but could not for the life of me find any bruises or..anything. My gown was torn to shreds, but other than that, nothing was wrong with me. I went into my parents room and that's when I found what I found.
Blood was everywhere, by the bucketfull. It was on the floor, on the walls, on the celing, everywhere. My parents were in their bed torn to shreds. Their bodies were clawed, and partially eaten. What remained were their torsos. Their heads had been removed, literally torn from their necks. Their heads had been carefully placed on their torso's. Their heads, I noticed were pointed (with eyes open) at their dresser which was placed on there my babybook and a baby picture of me. My parents never kept any of that stuff. My mother threw it in the trash when I was 9 years old to show me how much she regretted having me. I wondered for so very long where they came from? I knew my parents wouldn't have had them, as horrible as they were.
The final report was that of some kind of animal must have gotten into the house somehow. The claw marks were that of some kind of large wolf or like animal. The police searched everywhere, but found nothing. Nick, and his family had moved away as well. They were gone.
You see, there is a monster in my basement. He comes up to see me when he thinks I am asleep. I know he is there. I am a part of he, and he is a part of me. He keeps me safe, but I am the one cursed to hear the voices of those lured into my basement.