I walk into my bedroom, and as always it’s cold, not to mention dark; No matter where I go it is always dark.  I plug my headphones into my walkman and turn it up as loud as it’ll go. I can feel a headache coming on, but I can’t risk turning them down.
“You know that doesn’t work,” A voice says. The voice sits in the corner of my room, not quite shy...but embarrassed to come closer. The voice is of a woman of around twenty-eight, she’s beautiful, and dressed in 80’s garb. She has a neon pink headband and a matching windbreaker. Her pants are puffy and patterned, but they're ripped on both sides and her bright makeup is smeared on her face.
“You know we will always be around, and no amount of sound could drown us out. Why, you could stab your eardrums with a knife and you’d still be able to hear us,” another voice says. I try not to turn my head, try not to see the “man” that sits on my bed, close enough that if I turned my head our noses would touch. This “man” has looked the same since the first time he appeared, he wears a plain red button down, and faded jeans. He looks young and he wouldn’t be bad looking if it weren’t for that smile. His lips are carved, bloody and long, and extend far past his mouth, cut into a terrifying smile. His face is always a picture of pure pain.
I sit on my bed and stare straight ahead, like I can’t hear them and they can’t hear my thoughts.
“We know you can hear us,” A third voice scoffs. “After all, we’ve been stuck with you since the moment of that tragic accident.” I turn my head to see her.  The third voice is a middle aged woman, who wears lots of eye makeup and a teal sequined dress that sits so high up on her thighs one wrong move would leave her exposed. Her hair is big and pinned back on either side, a sort of faded blonde that’s not quite brown but dark enough to pass. She has nice hair except for the chunks missing all around her head.
I can hear the three voices whispering about me. I hear snippets of their conversation “Doesn’t know yet…” one says “Needs to find out on her own…” another says, “Taking so long…” the last days.
I clench my fists together, trying not to get angry about the fact that they’re talking about me. My nails slice into my palms. I try to ignore them by playing ‘Every Breath You Take’ by The Police. It’s a really creepy song but I don’t care, for once everything is quite. I don’t even care about the warm scarlet liquid that drips from my fists. My head begins to buzz, and I can’t hear the voices, so I take off my headphones, and am met with the most beautiful silence.  I’m not sure if it is because of the euphoric feeling I have right now or loss of blood, but I close my eyes and rest my head on my pillow falling deeply asleep.

“1! 2! 3!” I hear my friend Sara counting, and I panic, I have no idea where I’m going to hide. I spin around in circles and find the perfect spot, I run across the road and into my neighbor's yard. I jump into their recycling bin. ‘I’m a genius!’ I think to myself  ‘She’ll never find me here’.
“10! Ready or not here I come!” Sara yells, her voice full of excitement.
I feel my heartbeat quicken as I hear footsteps approaching. I hold my breath, ‘Crap, how did she know I was here?’ I think to myself. But as the footsteps come closer I realize they aren’t my Sara’s, they are much heavier and they drag like the person behind the noise is tired of life. My heartbeat picks up even more pace, but this time out of fear. I see the recycling lid open up and a bright light blinds me I squint to adjust my eyes, finally the light becomes bearable. I see his malicious smile before I see his hands reach down…

I wake up in a cold sweat,  entangled in my sheets. Why was that dream so...familiar?
“What happened here?” I hear a voice laugh. “Long night?”
I turn my head to see who’s talking.
The man with the creepy smile is staring at me.
“None of your business,” I snap at him.
“Remind me not to talk to you in the morning,” He snorts and turns away from me to fiddle with something on my desk.
“How about you just don’t talk to me ever?” I say, Yeah right like that would ever happen. I say to myself.
The creepy smiling man starts to say something, but gets cut off when the doorbell rings. He raises his eyebrows “I thought you didn’t have any friends?” He laughs.
I roll my eyes and get up. I have no idea who could be at my door, and as much of a nuisance as creepy smile dude is, he’s right...I have no friends. As I approach my front door I look through the peephole and see that it looks like a mailman. I unlock the deadbolt but not the slide chain and pull open my door skeptically, the lock only allowing half a foot to see his  face.
“Hello sir, how can I help you?” I ask. I’m a little taken aback that he’s here seeing as I never order anything, nor does my mailman ever knock at the door, he just  throws it in my yard and continues his router so I assume, .
“Are you Sadie McCain?” He asks.
“I sure am.” I say “May I ask why?”
“You have a delivery of,” he raises his eyebrows and adjusts his glasses on his plump face, making sure he’s reading it correctly. “Well,” He laughs nervously “It doesn’t say what the delivery is, but if you’ll just sign here,” He hands me a paper and tells me to write my signature on it. I decide he’s safe enough and I unlock the door chain and open it fully, after I scribble my signature on it he hands me a box that feels a lot lighter than it looks.
Before he can leave I ask, “Do you know who this is from?”
He shrugs and says, “I’m just the delivery guy. Sorry love. ” And with that he turns around and walks away.
I walk back into my house and shut the door, closing both locks. I walk into my kitchen and set the box on the table, my heart beats hard in my chest so I take a minute to breathe. In -Thud-thud-thud- Out-Thud-Thud-Thud. I cut open the box slowly, the sound of the tape tearing echoing through the house. Inside there is a note, and underneath the note there is a smaller box, I unfold the note and open it:

I Hope you are doing well,
And that you haven't told anyone
Our little secret.......
Remember, I am always watching ;)
T
T...who’s T? I think in my head. My heart races as I prepare for whatever might be inside of the box, I can feel it begging to be opened. I take a deep breath, setting the other box down on my table.
“The anticipation is killing me.” A soft voice says, I turn to see the women in sequins staring at the container longingly, I’m shocked she isn’t drooling. Behind her sit the creepy smiling man , and 80’s lady.
I peer inside the box and what’s inside makes my stomach lurch, I barely make it to my kitchen sink before expelling everything I had eaten today. When, finally, my stomach sits empty I build up enough courage to walk back to my kitchen table. What sits in the box is what some call the windows to the soul. An eye with a blue iris stares back up at me, and I swear I can see the fear in the size of the pupil. The eye sits upon a white piece of paper...another note? I pick it up and flip it over to see the same handwriting:
Like I said, I will
_Always_
Be watching
T

My mouth is dry and sour, adding to the headache coming on. Who is “T”? Why do I think I know that name? I think to myself. Maybe I should call the police...?
I turn around and head for the black phone on the wall. My fingers shake I can hear my heartbeat in my ears between each number 9-bumbum-1-bumbum-1-bumbum.
I prepare what I’m going to say, breathing in and out trying to calm my nerves. The phone rings four times, five times, six times, then it goes dead. Weird, maybe I can call again? I dial again, but this time instead of ringing it goes dead immediately. Why wouldn’t the police answer their phone?
“Maybe there’s something going on with the phone lines?” 80’s lady suggests. She has always been the most optimistic of the three.
As much as I want to believe her, there’s something not right about this whole situation. I walk towards my front door and unlock both locks. It’s always dark, no surprise there, but what surprises me is that my whole street is empty of cars. There’s not a single light on for miles. I step out of my door and walk to the house next to mine and knock on the door. No answer. I peer in through the window and see that it doesn’t look like anyone has lived in the house for years, even in the dark I can see the coats of dust that cover the furniture.
I decide that maybe a hot shower will fix everything, so I walk back to my house and shut the door, but as I walk into my bathroom and stare into my mirror a twelve year old stares back at me. We look the same, down to the blue eyes. But i’m not twelve and haven’t been since ‘84. I rub my eyes and look again but nothing changes. Maybe I'm Just overtired ... My legs feel shaky and I decide that maybe a hot bath would be better. I turn on the water and get it to the perfect temperature. While the water runs I walk to my room to grab some pajamas. As I walk back to my bedroom though, I notice some things that are out of place, like the newspapers scattered around my floor. The date at the top says May 9th, 1984. I walk faster towards my room, grab my pajamas and sprint back to the tub; just in time. I shut the tap off and sink into the tub, the water is extremely relaxing and before I even realize it I am asleep.
Hands. They reach down at me. Smile. Sadistic, yet happy…
” Hey kiddo what are you doing in my recycling bin?” A man asks.
“Uh….I...uh..” I stammer trying to make a full coherent sentence. “I-was-playing-a-game-of-hide-and-seek,” I squeak out, getting ready to jump out of the recycling bin and sprint to my house. Something about this man feels unsafe.
I attempt to jump out but he grabs me
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks.
“Anywhere but here!” I yell, my 12 year old voice squeaking “SOMEBODY PLEASE-”
I try to yell but he shoves his hands over my mouth and drags me into his house. I can see my friend Sara, across the street, oblivious to everything going on. I should have told her that our boundaries spread past my yard.
As we enter his house I notice it’s a perfect replica of our house down to the position of the magazines placed upon the coffee table, what the heck? I say in my head Who is this man and why does his house look exactly like our house? He drags me upstairs and tosses me into a room that looks exactly like mine, and suddenly I long for my mommy, for my home..
“Here’s where you’ll be staying for now.” He says.
He shuts the door and leaves me in an eerie silence. I decide to do some searching around, just a single hint as to who this guy is would be helpful. I start digging through a bureau, coming up short, nothing but socks and some clothes in there, but then out of the corner of my eye I see a paper sticking out from underneath a closet door. I walk over to the closet and open it, trying to be as silent as possible. Inside There's a photograph of two women, one in pink and one in a teal sequined dress, in between them sits a man in red. None of them are smiling, in fact they all look terrified, but the man in red has his jaw clenched, like he’s ready for whatever may come his way. Under the photo is the date 1984, and a little note attached.
Had little trouble taking care of the women, Even
Enjoyed myself a little bit.
The man on the other hand had to be taught an important lesson about language
In the presence of beautiful women
I hear a knock on the door and shove the photograph back in the closet making sure that a little triangle of paper sticks out.

I wake up disoriented in a drained tub...I must have drained the tub in my sleep?
For a minute I forget about my dream, but then it all comes flooding back. That writing, it looks so familiar. My brain flashes back to when I opened the boxes, recalling the notes I read: always watching… T . NO to mention that photograph, those are the “people” that have been with me since the accident...but what was the accident? I remeber looking at the bottom corner, there was a date marked on the back...1984. I would have been twelve that year… I stand up wrapping a bathrobe around me. and look at myself, ntohing has changed since the last time. I’m flat chested and awkwardly lanky...excatly how I looked when I was...twelve.
That can’t be possible, I think to myself 1984 was 13 years ago! I’m 25 years old! Tears spring to my eyes, dripping down my cheeks, if I sat in the tub long enough I’m sure I could fill it with my tears.I stare into the mirror. “How?” I say, and the younger reflections mouth moves too. Anger spurs over me, this is a joke,. I pull my hand back to punch the mirror when a cold hand on my shoulder stops me.
“Sweetie.” 80’s lady says, “That won’t change anything.”
“Joe!” A voice yells, “Joe she finally figured it out.” I turn to see the women in sequins yelling to The creepy smiling man, “ I mean I get that your brain never matured past 12, but jeez, it took you 13 years to realize you’re dead?”
‘I’m not dead!” I yell, this has to be a joke, “This is all some elaborate, messed up prank. I like the CGI, it was extremely realistic” I laugh nodding my head, “Alright you got me! Bring out the cameras! Quit messing with me now!”
I stand and wait for a camera crew to come out, for someone to come out and tell me this is all a joke but nothing happens.
“Honey,” the 80’s lady whispers, her voice cracks like her heart breaks for me, “This isn’t a joke. You’ve been dead for thirteen years.”
She starts to tell me the details of how I died, and each one is like a stab in the heart. As she explains the story my memories flood back like a tsunami.

He walks into the bedroom he gave me and his eyes immediately flick to the closet. The smile he was wearing drops. Maybe I didn’t put the piece of paper back in the right way. I feel my heartbeat quicken.
“So, I give you a nice bedroom, and instead of playing with your toys like a good little girl, you snoop around?!?” His face is bright red, and spit spews out of his mouth with every word he screams.
“I-I-I…” I stammer trying to think of something to say.
“You-You-You what?!? ” he mocks my stutter “ Are you sorry?” he scoffs, “It’s a little late for that!”
With each word he says he inches closer to me. So close that if I look up I can see up his nose. He’s holding something behind his back and I’m really hoping it’s not what I think.
I already know I won't make it out alive.
“Please?!?” I scream, tears welling in my eyes, “Please, please don’t hurt me…” I sob feeling bile rise up. My stomach churns.. I sink to my knees., my energy completely escapes from my body.
He laughs, a dark deep laugh. Rolling his eyes.
“How ‘bout we play a game of hide and seek?” he looks down at me. “If you win I’ll let you go, and you can run right back home to mommy and daddy…”
I mull it over in my head. I’m really good at hide and seek “What’s in it for you?” I ask.
“Well if I win I get to go through with my original plan.” He says. “I’ll count first, you go hide.”
There’s something not quite right about the way he looks at me, but this is my only hope for going home.
I think about running down the stairs and escaping through the front door. He says go and I run, but as I reach the door I realize that it doesn’t open from the inside without a key. I’m locked in.
“18! 17! 16!” I hear him yell.
Think Sadie, think! In my house there’s a hidden closet in one of the walls, his house is a complete replica of mine! I start to touch at the walls
‘15! 14!”
Shoot where is it. When my hands run across a little bump I realize I’ve found it. I press my palm against the bump, the door opening silently. I climb inside shutting the door behind me. As the last of the light fades I hear his footsteps heavy on the stairs above me.  I hold my breath, and as my eyes adjust to the light I look around and see three other people shoved into this tiny room. I tap one of the people on the shoulder, but they just sit limp.
“Come out come out wherever you are!” I hear him yell. He walks straight past me without a second glance..
I move my foot a little bit and accidentally push one of the bodies and silently it falls on me.  A pair of dead eyes stare blankly at me. I stare into the eyes for what seems like an eternity when something drops on my face, trailing into my mouth. It’s warm and coppery and immediately I know what it is. I try to hold in the screams that sits in my throat but the blood keeps dripping. I scream, and then I hear his footsteps running straight towards where I’m hiding.
Light blinds me and all I can hear is him say; “I found you”
He raises his hand and something slices down towards me. That’s when everything goes black.

“It took the police nearly a month before they discovered our bodies, still in the hidden room where he left us when he fled the country.” The creepy smiling man says, “You were found in a river a couple miles away from your home, months later. All your possessions were on you, even your bangles, but there was something missing...what he took was apalling…” The creepy smiling man takes a minute before saying, “He took your right eye.”
I drop to the ground, and as I look down I see that I’m wearing a rainbow striped sweater and dark blue corduroys, I even have those stupid bangles dangling from my wrists. The only addition to the clothes I wore thirteen years ago is a pattern of scralet red, splattered across the chest.