User:Crimbot

It's been four years since my mother died. Supposedly suicide, although the whole thing looked fishy. Especially one woman who day after day would come to my house and watch the police do their work. She had this look-one of utter content. I decided I would just forget about the bitch, try at least. And try I did, but I felt like she kept following me and trying to say something. I kept seeing her in public areas, watching me and every time I would go over to her to confront her, she would seemingly vanish. Where to? Fucked if I know.

It's been weeks since our last "encounter". Maybe I was just hallucinating, paranoid, or just needed something to blame for my mothers death, even if it be fictitious. Or maybe she thinks I got her unspoken message.

A very strange phenomena occurred last night. I felt like someone was with me all night. Just a primal sense of human presence. A sense so strong I haven't slept in almost 48 hours. I hear things in this old house, whispers at night. I can't get my dead mom out of my head. The woman, she must be behind this. NO. SHE'S GONE. HOPEFULLY FUCKING DEAD. But she wasn't real, was she? GET THE VOICES OUT OF MY DAMN HEAD! WHAT ARE THEY SAYING?! Regret. That word-Regret.

I broke down into an uneasy sleep last night. But the sleep was the least of my problems. I woke up to scratching, very loud scratching. I still don't know where from, but they were there. They had to be there. I'm not crazy. No. I also heard whispering of the word regret. WHY?! What is wrong with me? I have to find the scratching sound.

My fingertips have taught me something. I didn't know bone was so white. There are holes in the floor that I made with my bear hands, fingers. I still haven't found the scratching, the voices, the regret. Where are they coming from? WHERE ARE TH- There. Over there. I found it. It knows. The whispers are telling me to come closer, to reveal the truth, to feel the regret. They're becoming screams. I need to reveal the truth. Am I ready for it? I must be. I'm digging, digging as fast as I can grinding bone fingertips into the wall. Not the floors, the wall of this cursed house. This house where my mother died, the house where I will face the truth. I WILL KNOW THE TRU- The woman. She's here. In-in the walls of my house. My mom is here as well. A picture of me with my mom. As my eyes focus onto the photo I begin to feel the regret, understand why my life has come to this. But I still don't understand why I did it. Why? I KILLED MY OWN MOM!!! I've done this to myself, driven myself to this point. This point of no return. The answer is death. The only way to end it is through death. I can't live the regret for my whole life, much less 5 minutes. It's over. I truly am sorry mom, truly.