My Personal Demon

01:25

I wanted to stop being sad. And I mean being sad, not feeling sad. People are destined to feel sad about things but I had the misfortune of embodying it.

I could tell by the way my friends and family were careful not to mention Charles's name around me. They pretended he never existed because I already carried enough misery for everyone over his death. They tiptoed around my feelings, afraid to wake them up.

Perhaps that was why I stopped seeing them. I couldn't bear to be treated like damaged goods.

I found his doppelganger in my bed later that night. He was stretched out over the sheets like a cat, lounging as if he owned the place.

"Get off," I said.

At the sound of my voice, he sits up, extending a fist to me. He invites me to open his fingers. I shake my head, turning away. I had enough of his unpleasant surprises today. Maybe I'll sleep on the couch to avoid him.

"Please, Yvette," he whispered. "Look inside."

My skin crawled at the sound of his voice. How did he know my name? And why did he sound so much like Charles?

"No. Leave me alone."

"It's a gift," he insisted. "Perfectly harmless."

I slap his face, catching him off-guard. "Stop that."

"Stop what?" He clutches his red cheek, looking hurt.

"You know what. You've been torturing me the whole day, showing me those awful visions while pretending to be him. Let it rest," I pleaded.

He unraveled his fingers, showing the head of a bright yellow sunflower at the center of his palm. "I thought women liked flowers."

I choke back a sob. He was driving me insane.

"Where did you get that?" I touch the petals of the flower, watching the whole thing crumble into a fine, gold powder.

"Spring," he said, lying back down on the bed. He makes himself comfortable, pulling the covers over his body and snuggling deep into my pillows. His eyes meet mine in defiance, daring me to do something.

What an awful hallucination. Based on the way the people in the grocery store treated me, this was all in my head. None of this was real.

More importantly, he wasn't real.

Blood drips from the crevices of the walls, the droplets racing to the hardwood floor. He was taunting me, making me see things that weren't there.

I stomp over to the bed, yanking the covers away. I grab his arm, pulling him away from the mattress with all my might. He stays stuck to the sheets, superglued to the softness. I dig my nails into his skin, undeterred. This was my room and my bed.

He could rot in hell for all I cared.

The floor caves in, morphing from wood to quicksand. The ground eats up my legs, dragging me down. Still, I held on to his arm, desperate to banish him.

He watches me sink with specks of amusement glittering in his eyes.

"You're supposed to be dead," I seethed. "I saw your body in the casket. Who are you?"

His composure cracks ever so slightly. "That won't work again. Stop asking silly questions. You know who I am."

"You're not my husband. I know I've made you up. But even my mental demons have names. Who are you?"

The floor steadies beneath me. He pulls me up from the sinking pit with an iron grip, fury lighting up his eyes.

"Stop. Asking. Silly. Questions," he said. "And you didn't make me up. I exist outside of your mind. No one has the imagination to dream of someone like me."

"Then who are you?" I smile, watching a look of horror take over his face.

He crumbles in my hands this time, turning into a fine red dust.

Whatever he was, he wasn't invincible.

I dust him off my bed, his redness staining my hands. I've always believed in some element of the supernatural, enough to understand that there were many things outside of human comprehension.

I just never thought the paranormal could be so annoying.

I rest my head on the pillow, my body relaxing for the first time all day. I pull my covers over my cold body, closing my eyes as I did so. I clear my mind, banishing all thoughts of demons and resurrected husbands that were supposed to be resting in their graves.

But I should've known that he wasn't going to leave me alone. Giving me the peace that I wanted would've been too generous of him.

A weight sinks into the bed, dipping the mattress. A cold arm wraps around my waist, pulling me into the chest of an even colder body.

My eyes snap open, greeted once again by the sight of blood dripping down the walls. Long stalks of sunflowers bloom in their wake, somehow menacing in the moonlight.

As I pulled myself away from the invisible arms imprisoning me, I got the feeling that it was going to be a long night.