Personal Narrative Fiction

Someone taps my shoulder gently, and I scribble my notes furiously so I can be done when I turn around. I cautiously look up at the front of the room, and the

I skip down the creaky stairs, my feet making a sort of melody on the old splintering wood. My fingertips brush along the grayish yellow wall

As I set up in the bed, my phone decides to go off. I should turn it off, but I just look at it stunned. I can't believe it, I beat my alarm. After A few moments. I swing my legs over the side of the bed turning the alarm off as I do so, I stand up. then out of habit. I walk over to the dresser, I know it's pointless, none of my clothes are in there at the moment, I think to myself. However, my face turns into surprise when I see what's waiting for me.

I don’t know how long I have been faking sleep, but the slow creak of the door startles me still. I can hear the slow, lumbering footsteps, feel their vibrations on the floor. When they stop, I can sense him bending over me, his hot breath fanning over my neck. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Esther Miller.” His gravelly voice causes goosebumps of fear to shiver down

I uncrossed my fingers and read through the first page, which was handwritten in calligraphy.

As his wrinkly scratchy fingers, rub against my shoulder, then tries to touch my hair. I smack his hand.

Alone once again, my gaze rests on their door. Every part of me screams to run in with them, just to feel safe, but I know I cannot. I tell myself to bike to Grandpa’s house in the morning to pump and hide some water before the neighbors see, hoping that there are still vegetable plants growing in his abandoned field to come home with. After some time, I finally get the courage to leave the room and crawl in my own bed. Unsure of if the dampness of my face is from tears or sweat, I lay down and pray that sleep comes soon.

This is the first thought which occurs to me as I hasten down the stairs, gasping, heading straight towards my room. It is when I slam my bedroom door shut, lock it, place a chair against the it, and turn the doorknob countless times to make sure it is secure, when I can finally breathe a sigh of relief and sit on the edge of my bed.

My focus is elsewhere. I pace cautiously over to a long table along the far wall. The table is littered with chemicals, needles, and strange looking knives. Horrors have taken place in this building and I have a plummeting feeling that hundreds have also died in this place. A blue file catches my eye and

My body felt limp and useless as his hands traced the outline of my arms, making my skin shiver with delight. His fingers felt delicate against my soft skin, and I soon felt my eyes fluttering close as I let myself relax. There was a first time for everything, wasn't there?

I stare down at the marble floor, my reflection completely distorted. It reminds me of how much of a mess this is. Mrs. Kraukovich stops and when I look up she's looking at me with concern.

It is the fourth night and I am, once again, awake at an ungodly hour in the morning. This time it’s not a noise that wakes me up, but a prevalent chill that seeps through the blankets and into my bones. I pull the covers up to my chin and curl up into a ball for warmth before I feel a slight breeze against the side of my face. I turn around to the source of the breeze and my blood freezes. The window is open. I slowly look around my room before noticing my roommate is missing. My heart leaps to my throat as I jump out of bed.

My eyes shoot open, blood rushes through my veins, a harsh ring pierces my ears, adrenaline jumpstarts my nervous system. Catapulting out of bed, feet crash onto the wood floor with a resounding thud, vibrations shoot up my legs. Intent on murdering my morning nemesis, I take aim at the blaring red-eyed demon sitting next to the fan. Striking with a swift click of the on/off switch, I end the incessant blare of my alarm. "6:15, Monday, not late." A relieved sigh escapes my lips, gaze shifting to my dresser. My anxiety calms quickly, and I notice the cold wooden floor nips at my toes.

I feel that same violating hand caress my cheek. I immediately snap out of my thoughts and recoil away, finally having some resistance since my neck isn't chained. I should've bit him instead.

And then Asriel holds onto your hand, the one that's not cradled against your chest, and squeezes it just a little. You feel a lot