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She Whispers To Me




8/13/10
In the middle of the night. In the morning. In the day. In the evening. Her whispers are soft and low, like a lullaby. I can’t see her. She’s in the shadows. In the darkest corners of my room. Her words drive me insane. They’re always my name. Jasmine… Jasmine… Jasmine They’re jolting, and I find myself driven from sleep. I sob, and sob, and sob, and beg her to stop, but she never listens. She just.. keeps… whispering. Even now, as I write in my journal, I can hear her. The door is creaking open. I can see her hair peek out. She’s never come outside the wardrobe before.

8/15/10
She has a pure white face. Her eyes are pure white, as if rolled back in her head. Her jaw is slacked, and drool spits out from her lips. She moves in this weird way, a way physically impossible for humans, that should break all her bones. Her legs twist backwards, her head spinning until the crown reaches her spine, her jaw flat against her chest. Her arms bend backwards, her fingers tips touching her wrist. When she moves, its like hundreds of bones snapping, and the noise is all I can hear. Her whispers are worse. Kill Kill KiLL KILL KILL KILL Until she’s screaming in my mind. Her jaw doesn’t moment when she talks, but her tongue lashes around, longer than any human, and snaps at me. I’m so scared. I can’t sleep. I can’t close my eyes without dreaming of her.

8/18/10
I have to do something. Mother has started to notice the black bags under my eyes. She is not my mother. I have to kill her. I blacked out for a moment. I didn’t write that! Somebody help me please. I’ve barricaded myself in my room from the evil outside, but I find myself trapped between the two. I’ve managed to turn the wardrobe so that she’s trapped! Haha! I’Ve FiGurED iT aLL noW. sHE woNT bOtHER mE nOW. At night I hear her pounding against the wall, screams of frustration erupting. Now her screams keep me awake. I can’t think. I’m so tired, but if I fall asleep, she’ll come and over-take me.

she wont live. her life is worthless.

8/24/10
I am stuck in the bathroom. I keep blacking out. I do things I don’t mean. I… I think I killed my cat a couple nights ago. I found her strung up by twine around her throat, just… hanging from my ceiling fan. Something’s going on… and I don’t understand what it is. Somebodies been writing in my journal. It’s my hand-writing, but its jumbled, and weird, and I don’t understand wHAtS hApEniNG.

My mother is not my mother. She a woman with someone else’s face. I cAn SenSE iT. sHEs KeePinG mE tRaPPeD iN thE bAThRooM.

9/1/10
I’ve… I’ve done it. I did it! When my mother finally flung down the door, I ripped her heart out. I plunged my hand into her chest, not stopping for bones or muscle or skin, and ripped the heart out. Blood poured from the vessels, and the heart still beat even though the veins connecting it was broken. It tastes delicious, like no meat I’ve ever eaten before. I swallowed it hole, and it steal beat in my stomach. My bones crack with every movement, and I’ve receded in the wardrobe. It’s comfortable in there.

As I write, a new little girl sleeps in the corner that I use to. Her name is Elizabeth.

Elizabeth.. Elizabeth… Elizabeth. 

—
Credits to: insanemurder.tumblr.com

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