I’m going a little insane. Just a little, I hope. As long as I keep myself busy, it isn’t so bad. That’s why I decided to type all of this out.
This problem didn’t surface until I was around fifteen. I developed major depression and suffered from self-harm. I was shoved into counseling and loaded up with antidepressants. Despite this, I was struggling more than ever.
Don’t think I wasn’t trying. I listened to everything my counselor said and took my medication every single day. But still, my depression took a turn for the worse. I was constantly staying home from school, too depressed to get out of bed. When I did go to school, I snuck off into the bathroom to cut.
As my depression and self-harm worsened, I began to develop a twitch. I’m not certain if calling it a twitch is the proper word, but it will do. It started with the feeling that someone was watching me. The feeling was always directly behind me to my right side. I felt compelled to look but I ignored it for a while. I assumed that it was just a side effect of my medication or something.
My depression reached the point where I had attempted to commit suicide on several occasions. I don’t feel the need to describe the methods nor the reasons behind my depression because that isn’t what my story is focusing on. Needless to say, when my parents finally realized that I had tried to kill myself, they sent me to an institution.
After a slew of medical tests, I was taken to a room filled with doctors. I sat across from them in a hard, uncomfortable chair, their eyes all boring into me. A doctor in the middle took control, asking basic questions. What did I believe was the root of my depression? When had I started self-harming? What symptoms was I having?
I began to list my symptoms and mentioned the twitch. I told him that I attributed it to my medication but he quickly said that wasn’t a side effect of any meds he was aware of. He asked me if I had ever been physically bullied because some people who had ended up with an overwhelming feeling of being watched. I had never had the shit kicked out of me thankfully, so that was a no. Surprisingly, the doctor had no explanation and he had left it at that.
While I was institutionalized, I kept to myself as much as I could and did what I was told. All I wanted to do was go home and be miserable in peace. I lucked out and ended up being in a room by myself. I spent quite a lot of my time reading or simply sitting there, thinking.
One night, I sat at the desk, nose deep in my third reading of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. As Harry snuck into the restricted section of the library, I had the twitch. My eyes were pulled by the feeling and anticipation built up in my brain. I fought with myself for what seemed like hours until I finally broke.
I turned, to the relief of my brain and strained eyes, and gasped at what was before me. What stood before me was an appalling sight, but there was an aura of calm over me. There stood a blonde haired girl, maybe a little older than me, with hazel eyes. Our eyes were different colors, but all the same as hers were just as dead and empty as mine.
As my eyes trailed down the apparition, I was met with the part of her that churned my stomach. Down her arms were two deep jagged cuts, maggots writhing inside of the open wounds. The blood that had once coursed through her thin veins was dried around the wounds and down her hands, wrapping its dead tentacles around her fingers.
The spell her wounds had on me broke and I met her eyes as they filled with tears. I set my book down, managing to stand up and stepped closer to her. Her mouth opened and I waited with anticipation to hear what she had to say.
Before the vision could utter so much as a guttural moan, the door to my room opened. It was a nurse who, as these things go, didn’t notice the apparition. She simply held up the white cup with my evening pills inside and smiled softly. I dry swallowed the three pills, opening my mouth afterwards to show that I had taken them.
Content with this, the nurse informed me that it was lights out and left. Even in the dark, I could still see the apparition who again opened her cracked lips to speak. Despite the calm aura the spirit had brought with her, I felt my heart slamming against my chest.
“It burns down here. Oh god it burns,” her voice sounded as if her throat was deteriorating into dust. Each word seemed to cause her pain.
“Here? Where are you?” I knew that she must have been referring to hell, but as an atheist, that was illogical to me. Of course, this entire situation was illogical.
“I’m deep in the pits of hell. But the world drove me to it. Shouldn’t the world be punished for making lives miserable and not the ones who suffer at its hands?” The spirit was sorrowful to the point that I was beginning to cry with her.
“I wish the world worked that way, but it will always hurt the broken.” I was sure to keep my voice to a whisper since the nurses would be pissed that I wasn’t at least in bed yet. I was frozen where I was standing, looking into her blue orbs of desolation.
I stood there in the silence, as she only wept. I had no clue what I was supposed to do or say. I hadn’t believed in hell or the paranormal until the moment she had appeared to me; I have always said seeing is believing. I could hardly wrap my mind around any of this, let alone have a game plan.
Out of nowhere my vision went black for a few seconds. When my sight returned, I was in the same room but there was something different about it. I noticed that the walls were whiter, looking as if it had been painted only a few months ago. The furniture was newer and lacked the graffiti and carvings that I had run my fingers across just hours ago.
As my eyes continued to survey the room, I began to hear the weeping of the apparition. I turned to look at her for she had moved from her original spot a few feet in front of me. I took in the vision of her, which was no longer the ghost I had met. This was her solid, true body before her death had come.
“Hey, are you – are you okay?” I took a hesitant step forward, unsure of how she would react. There was no sign that she had heard me. She continued to let out a terrible cry of misery. I watched as she stood up in a frenzy, searching through the room for something.
Suddenly she barreled towards me like an animal whose territory had been violated. I had no time to move out of the way, leaving me to brace for an impact. I expected to be laid out completely but she only went right through me. Confusion washed over me as I looked on to see her interacting with solid objects, which movies and television had told me ghosts couldn’t do – at least not with a solid form.
She ran over to the desk, her hand flying underneath it as it blindly searched for whatever she was looking for. A smile slowly appeared on her face as her hand was withdrawn, blood dripping from a few of her fingers. In that crimson hand she held a small silver object that I recognized as a razor blade.
I knew what she was planning and screamed at her to stop. But my cries fell on deaf ears as she dug into her wrists. The blood followed where the blade had once been and soon it was running down her fingertips and onto the floor. Tears found their way out of my eyes and down my face. I could not believe what I had been witness too. Sure, I had seen thousands of horror films. But that was nothing compared to looking on as someone killed themselves. Someone so real, living and breathing only seconds ago.
Suddenly my vision went black again and I was standing in my room as I had been earlier. It was then that she spoke to me again; “I know that you’re hurting. But you don’t want to burn do you?”
“Why did you show that to me?” My voice was full of anger as a I seethed at her. None of this made any sense.
“To show you that I was just like you before I died. I could feel your desperation to die. But you’ll burn just like me. Live as I was not strong enough to do.” With those last words, she disappeared.
I would love to say that was the last experience that I had with the twitch, but that is far from the truth. This ghost, who I discovered was named Samantha, was the only good spirit I have ever encountered. I have met many entities, but I will only divulge those who have had a severe impact on my life or those who were particularly nasty. Samantha had saved my life. But most days, I wish that she hadn’t.