Outside of the school, we said our goodbyes and I headed for home. I didn't put in my earbuds. I needed to clear my head, because it was still stuffy and foggy. What do I do? How do I get help? I need to tell Mom or will she think I'm crazy? Would it hurt to try at this point? I'll die anyway. Oh my God I'm going to die!

Tears flowed down my cheeks as I felt pressure build in my mind pushing against my skull. I was starting to get a headache. I can't handle this. I'm too young to die! I wanted to go to college, get a job, have a family. I feel so weak, so useless. How could my stupid aunt have done this to me? What did I do that was so horrible? I did everything she wanted. I tried to make her happy, but she didn't try to make me happy! Guess what? I'm happy she's dead. I'm happy!

I sight him out of the corner of my eye following me home. My lungs started collapsing only to be stretched out again too quickly while my heartbeat sped up. When is he going to kill me? Why is this real? How is this real? Is there still a chance that it's a figment of my imagination? Please, God is there? Will I wake up tomorrow with my life ahead of me? If I die, what will happen to Mom, Dad, and to Hannah..? If only I had done more with my life, tried more things, done more to help me. I should have been a better person. Please, God give me a way to live!

He was still there, waiting on the corner as I entered my home. Will this be my final resting place? I don't bother unpacking anything. I don't bother trying to talk to Mom. I just go upstairs, sit on my bed, and pull out my phone. I start to text Hannah:

Jackie: Hey

Smolchild: Hiii. Do you feel better?

Jackie: Not really, but I have a question.

Smolchild: What?

Jackie: Is it normal to see demons?

Smolchild: Nooo? Why?

Jackie: I think I have one following me around.

Smolchild: XD

Jackie: I'm serious. What do I do?

Smolchild: I owuld tell your mom

Smolchild: *would

Jackie: What if she doesn't believe me?

Smolchild: It can't hurt to try. If you're serious about this, she has to know.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Jackie: Ok. That makes sense. Thanks Hannah

Smolchild: No prob Bob

Jackie: Maybe see you Sunday.

Smolchild: Maybe see you Sunday.

I set my phone down and flop backwards onto the bed. I should tell Mom. Maybe she'll give me a therapist, and I can find out if this is all real or not. It should be fake. Demons don't exist in the real world or whatever he is. I'm just jumping to conclusions. It's probably fake, I mean a fake vision of something would say it's real, right? I head downstairs to find Mom on the couch. I sit down on the other end.

"Hey Mom?" I ask.

"Yes, Jackie?" She answers, her voice was more calm yet soft and timid. At least now she's answering me.

"I think I need a therapist." She scoffed in a lighthearted way, turning to look at me with a joking face.

"And why would you need a therapist?"

"I'm seeing a demon or something. I don't know what it is." She laughed out loud. As nice as it was to see her smile after so long, I was serious.

"I mean it. I want to get rid of it. It's threatening my life now." I turn to face her, and she became solemn, her worry lines creasing on her face. She shifted on the couch, turning to face me.

"Well, um, are you sure you're seeing a demon? Jackie, do you hear yourself? You said you didn't know what it was!"

"Yes! I'm serious! I don't know what it is, but it scares me."

"Okay, okay calm down. What else has this demon, or whatever, said to you?"

"Well..."

"Now I'm serious! What else has it said? I can't help you unless you say something."

"It said... it said it was the one who killed Aunt Kate."

The room seemed to stop short, in a still calm. It was like the bright, sunny, clear skies right before a hurricane.

"Do you think her death is some kind of joke?" Her tone of voice became slightly threatening.

"What? No! You told me to tell you what else it said and I told you!"

"A demon you saw the day after your Aunt's death told you that? A demon that probably doesn't exist? Are you kidding me? You saw a demon?"

"Yes! Then it said it was going to kill me next!"

"..."

"Mom?"

"Go to your room. I cannot believe you right now."

"What? Why? Mom, I need help!"

"Your sick joke isn't funny anymore Jackie, now go to your room!" Her voice raised to nearly a shout.

"I'm serious! Mom, please!" I wanted to get on my knees and beg. I felt tears welling up behind my eyes.

"Now!"

I left the living room feeling betrayed and ashamed. Betrayed that my mother wouldn't believe me, but ashamed at how it does seem like a huge, sick joke. It does seem fake. It might be! I sit in my desk chair and turn on my computer. When I was about to get on the internet, I felt a bony hand rest on my shoulder. Hot, ragged breath fan the back on my ear and fall on my throat.

"Who would you think would believe you Jackie?" His voice screaked in my ear at the heaviness settled like a cat on my chest, cute and potentially deadly at the same time. He laughed like he saw an adorable kid announce something equally adorable. "I couldn't exist, right?" I couldn't say anything, yet again I was frozen and powerless. His voiced sent chills down my spine and made me shudder. It seemed to crawl up my back and rest on my neck, adding weight and pinning me down.

"You have a weak mother Jackie. She locks herself in her room and ignores her only son who is feeling sick. She refuses to talk to him. She didn't notice how your Auntie Kate was treating you. That must have been confusing, conflicting as a child. She worshiped your Aunt, but didn't pay any attention to Jackie. Hey, I mean, at least she's not as weak as your pathetic father. He watched it all happen and didn't say anything to save you. He let it happen. Face it, Jackie, no one will help you. Better count your blessings." His voice faded away, patting my shoulder in an empathetic way while digging his fingers into my shoulder, drawing blood before leaving. The blood soaked into my shirt, leaving a big red stain. I watched a red drop trickle down my forearm in horror. I desperately wanted to be mentally sick. I'd rather have schizophrenia. Please let this be all in my head.

When the heavy feeling disappeared completely, I went into my bathroom to clean my shoulder. It stung, but at this point the pain only reminded me that I was alive. Once it was clean, I did a crappy job of wrapping it in medical tape. It was already bleeding through. I washed my hands and cleaned my sweaty face. Then, I went online.