6
“Roll up the sleeve, please," he says in steady, deep tone.
“No, this isn’t…" I try to tell him, knowing what he must think.
“Just roll it up."
I hang my head as I drag the sleeve up my arm. It’s slow going as the fabric of my shirt wants to stick to the blood. I finally get it up to my elbow showing off the bandage which is now a dark red. “It’s not what you think," I say, hiding my eyes.
“Will you lift the bandage?"
“No, it’s just…"
“Just let me see, please."
I peel away the bandage away revealing the cuts. He doesn’t say anything this time. Just gets up, heads into the bathroom that sits off his office and returns with a towel that he tosses to me. “I’m going to grab our first aid kit. Clean that up the best you can.” He steps out of the office and I’m left trying to soak up all the blood, feeling like I’m going to be sick. He’s back in less than a minute. Takes a couple minutes, helping me rebandage myself. Once done, he just stands above, staring straight ahead.
“So tell me what happened," he says in a voice barely above a whisper.
“I didn’t do this," I say with a shaky voice.
“Then how did it happen?”
I shrink away from the question afraid of actually saying the words.
“Well?"
“It was…"
“Was what?"
“The thing…"
“What thing?" he says looking down at me now.
“In my room. With the...the...sleep para…"
“Wait a minute," he says, cutting me off again. “Are you talking about the sleep paralysis?"
“Yea. The thing that is there." That’s the best I can get out. I know I sound like a lunatic.
“We’ve discussed this. Anything you see at that time is not real. It can’t hurt you. So please. Tell me what actually happened?"
“I swear. That’s what happened. I’ve been able to feel it. And then last night it grew these claws or something...And it...it...hurt me. Cut me!” I’m practically shouting now, I’m talking so fast that I’m not even sure if he can understand me anymore. And he doesn’t respond. Just walks over to his desk and picks up his phone. I watch him the whole way wondering what he’s doing.
“Yes," he says talking into the phone. “Dr. Mitchell. I have a patient here that I’m going to need to be kept under observation."
He’s having me committed. Again. “What? No. I don’t need that! I need…" I trail off not finishing because I can see that he’s no longer listening.
August 3, 2019; 10:01 PM
I’m lying in the hospital bed, desperate to stay awake. I force my eyes as wide as they’ll go. I refused the medicine they tried giving me to help me sleep, but I can still feel it coming. That harder I try the more I can feel sleep draping over me. But I know what will happen when it does.
August 3, 2019; 10:52 PM
Oh no. I actually fell asleep, didn’t I? I must have because it’s happening again. My body is immobile. And here it is. It’s not just leaning over me now though. It’s right on top of me bringing its “face” right down on top of mine. The closer it gets, the less real it actually seems. Less like I’m looking up at someone and more like I’m gazing into a black hole. It doesn’t make a sound except for the scraping of its claws on my stomach. I can feel the sharp pinching as I can feel it pick and dig beneath the flesh. The drag of those nails inside my stomach. The gush of blood that comes pouring out. The...
