Haunted Shadows 1: Sickness Behind Young Eyes by Jack Lewis

looked back and saw that the eye in the wall
still watched me, I would lose my mind.
     
    I ran into the bathroom. I slapped
the light switch and the old bulb flickered to life and cast a dim glow on the
laminate floor. I walked to the sink, twisted the tap and let water trickle
down. It felt like a layer of ice when I splashed it on my face. I closed my
eyes and tried to settle my hammering heart. I opened them again, half
expecting the eye to be staring back at me from the mirror. Instead there was
just my pale reflection, my face a sheet of fear.
     
    I opened my mouth and made a sound. I
didn’t know what it was, I just needed to know my vocal chords still worked. I
turned the tap and cut the flow of water. Without its steady trickle, the room
was silent. I shook my head, tried to empty it of the eerie thoughts that
stabbed at me.
     
    I felt emptiness inside, like my body
had given up and let everything leak out. I looked down at the sink and felt
shards of fear stab at me. In the plughole, wrapped around the metal, were long
strands of black hair.
     
    A desperate cry rose in my throat and
escaped my mouth before I could clamp it shut.
     
    This isn’t happening.
     
    I reached for the hair and tugged at
it. It clung to the plug hole like a leech.
     
    This isn’t happening .
     
    I took a breath and heaved at the
hair, and finally I felt it rip away. The long, sodden strands felt like eels
in my hand. Wet and slimy, and wrapping around my fingers. A damp smell invaded
the air. It snuck up my nose, into my mouth, down my throat. I wanted to gag. I
threw the hair away from me and heard it slap against the bathtub.
     
    I became aware of a presence beside
me. I didn’t dare turn my head to see it, but I knew it was there. It stood
just beyond the bathroom doorway in the shadows of the bedroom. It watched me
silently. I felt like I was going to faint. My heart raced, but its beats were
weak like a battery running out of charge. I held onto the sink so as not to
fall.
     
    Is it her?
     
    Emily. The name crawled out from the
crevices of my brain. I looked out of the corner of my eye, fighting for my
life to keep my head rigid and not let it turn. I knew I must not look at the
shape directly, that to stare at it would be to welcome it in. But still I felt
its black presence in the doorway. Waves of malice drifted from it and settled
in the air like steam.
     
    I wanted to scream for Jeremiah, but
I didn’t dare make a sound. I remembered the words of the letter.
     
    Once she’s in your room she stares at
you. You can try and look away all you want but you’ll feel that glare on your
face, daring your eyes to meet hers. And once you give in and look at her, well
you’ve acknowledged her again. She knows that you can see her, that you know
she’s there.
     
    With a shaking hand, I picked up my
toothbrush. I had to act natural, pretend nothing was amiss. My hand trembled
as I brushed my teeth. I looked in the mirror and saw my wide eyes and skin
drained of colour. I was like a spectre staring through a window.

 
    15
     
    When the feeling started to fade I
walked back into the bedroom. I picked up the diary, ignoring the ice that
spread across my palms. My chest was tight as if I had run a marathon, and I
felt like I was going to drop. I opened the drawer on my desk, threw in the
diary and slammed it shut.
     
    Alone again, I wasn’t sure that
anything had actually been here. The presence I had sensed felt like a bad
dream, drifting away as I swam into consciousness. Had I imagined it all? Had
she really been there?
     
    I looked at the stone wall and saw no
trace of any hole. Relief flooded through me. I ran into the bathroom and stopped
in shock in the doorway. I had expected the bathtub to go back to normal, but I
wasn’t that lucky. The long strands of hair hung over the sides of the
porcelain and dripped dirty water onto the floor.
     
    What was real?
     
    I thought back to the letter. What
was it the man had