Create Everyday

It

How do you hide from a sound? A shadow? A light?
Your hands start to sweat, but you aren't hot. Your lip begins to quiver, but you aren't cold. "Where am I?" It taunts, "Come find me".  The voice compels you, frightens you.
The sharpened hand of the clock by your bed drills into your skull as time passes, pure agony. Tick... tick...
Make it stop.
The startling strength of paralysis makes breathing hard, makes sobbing impossible. You will your hand to move, but each movement drives the dark silhouette on your wall closer, causing it to curve like the reaper's sharpened scythe.
"Such silence, scared little one?" It hisses, not he or she, It. The voice that torments your nights and plagues your mornings. Determined to break your glass fragility, watch it crumble and shatter like a robber smashing a window, gaining entrance to your mind, your thoughts, inching its way closer,
closer...
Your frozen state cracks as a scream splits the room. Shielding your ears, the wail intensifies, slipping pass your thin fingers, penetrating your mind. Bracing yourself, you launch from your bed and race towards the light switch.
It stops.
Your exhale slowly, the voice evaporates into a murmur like steam from a kettle, sliding down the wall you watch it vanish. Depictions of death have departed, only the white flicker of your light bulb remains. 
Your fingers trail towards your rose-tinted cheeks, wiping tears had become a regular occurrence but you did it anyway, your head feels anchored to the ground, dragged and pulled towards your hands like metal to a magnet, completely exhausted.
Erratically your heart dances. Mind in disarray, breathing uneven and quick. You relish in the silence.
The silence you hadn't heard in weeks.
The silence that was just too quiet.
Plucked like hairs, your fingers were yanked from your eyes, blues exposed to white.
Bright burning bleached eyes study your features, It grins. Curved razor resembled fingers curl around your wrist while the other hides behind its back. It's intense gaze seals your lips shut. It laughs, slow and serene.
Something glistens from behind It's form, you don't take much notice, not with It inches from your face. Abruptly It stops, realising how unnatural the chime of laughter sounds in its strangled twisted throat.
"Ah my scared little one" It spoke, soft and sweet, the angelic nature of the words causes your stomach muscles to wind and weave into knots,
"I don't like silence, you?"
Dusk fills the room. Fiery-flamed eyes stare through the sheet of black. Your chest heaves, filled with rock. No escaping, nothing but a single white light.
Send help...
****
His red silk tie seemed determined to suffocate him. Tussled grey-laced hair from sleepless nights ran over his eyes.
"Alright, lets unpack this together, as we do I want you to move your toes" Doctor Grant observes the delicate form before him, slowly wiggling her toes.
She begins with the shadows, how she felt chilled shivers whenever she was alone, sensing a presence that was never there. The piercing screams that left her ears ringing, with others remaining unscathed.
Then the voice.
Rapidly her ribcage raises, her fingers flinch.
"Remember where we are, it's just you and me" Doctor Grant soothes, "Keep wriggling your toes"
Fists clenched, she furiously fidgets her toes, breathing briskly.
"Okay, place your hand on your chest for me" Doctor Grant mimics the action gently lowering his hairy-knuckled hand on his chest, "With every inhale and exhale, focus on the movement your hand makes, up and down" 
She visibly calms, gasping turns to gentle inhales,
"Good, now we are going to tap our knees", Dr Grant leans forward on his knees, she squirms like an ant under a burning magnifying glass. "Let's talk about what happened last night, the voice, it came into a physical form, correct?", She stiffly nods, eyes unblinking making sure he wouldn't melt from her vision like a bad dream.
"I know you feel dishevelled and unsure of yourself, but I assure you, you are not alone in your experience" loosening his tie's death grip, Dr Grant swallows, "I believe what you experienced was a schizophrenic episode, with regular therapy sessions and medication we can keep those episodes to a minimum"
****
The drumming on your knee lags, static resonates through the room, Dr Grant continues.
Schizophrenia.
"Looks like we'll be together forever my scared little one"
Your vision fades until there is nothing but two flickering orbs in the corner of your eye.
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Hi All! I really hope you enjoyed it. This was actually my Trail HSC Creative piece and the first story I've published ever, so please, let me know what you think!
Ive got a whole stack full of new ideas that I'm itching to write about, each new story should be up every few weeks. Also if you have any story ideas you want me to write or a story you want me to continue let me know! I'll publish it and credit your idea. :) :) :)