The Attic

I was cold. I was scared. I was alone.

I grew up in the orphanage and never got to know my mom and dad. I knew I had siblings though - the authorities made this known to me - but I never got to meet them. I never saw actual photos of my family, only documents that proved they existed. Whether or not they were alive, God knows. Each of my waking moments was usually accompanied by extreme feelings of loneliness. Despite the care I received from the caretakers, I never felt like I was loved. I always felt rejected. I knew no sane parent would take their kid to an orphanage unless he was really miserable, unless he was unworthy of their love.

Each time I was reminded of my family, I felt a mix of emotions, good and bad. At first, I would cry and sob hoping to meet them one day, but after a few moments I would start to feel hatred and resentment towards them. "Why the hell did they leave me here? What have I ever done to deserve this kind of abandonment from them?" I usually came up with answers to feed my curiosity and prevent me from losing my sanity, even though I was lost as lost could be. With each passing day at the orphanage, I got more and more aloof and was soon engulfed in my world of sad thoughts. I usually had meaningful conversations with myself, and it always felt great knowing I understood myself even though I never actually said a word. I just let my pain do the talking.

I watched every other kid have fun. I saw them laugh and smile at each other, everytime they were together. The fact that I did not fit in, even at the orphanage, made me feel worse than a high school student and I knew everyone hated me. Well except the caretakers of course, but it got to a point where I felt like they were only trying to keep their jobs. I remember the fake smiles they gave to me each time I looked at them, hoping to communicate through the tears that rolled down my cold, pale cheeks.

I never got to make any friends at the orphanage, partly because I was an emotionally unavailable kid. The only thing I had a genuine connection with was my teddy bear. Chloe was everything to me. She made me feel loved and validated, whenever I was isolated. She gave me emotional support, despite all my numbness. She gave me a sense of belonging, hope and a reason to live. Chloe was my family, my imaginary family.

There were times I got some attention from the other kids. Those moments usually made me feel validated, but the feelings would not last. Each time I hanged out with Chloe, I noticed the other kids got jealous. Chloe was the kind of person every other kid was dying to be around, and the thought that some worthless kid was always around her harbored feelings of envy. One time this fat kid tried to bully me, but Chloe stood up to the bully and protected me. I passed out and she carried me to the clinic where the pediatrician took care of my broken bones. I always got the most food at the cafeteria whenever I walked in with Chloe, and always ate till my satisfaction. This usually caused other kids to gather round me, and I always left the cafeteria feeling like I had eaten a whole mountain, even though I was always hungry as soon as each meal disappeared from the table. Chloe gave me the best life at the orphanage, the kind of life every other other kid wanted so badly. The kind of life that made them call me "crazy".

The orphanage had some sort of ritual where each caretaker would leave the kids entirely alone to themselves, a day to their birthdays. This was to create that feeling of isolation and abandonment which would then be lifted on their birthdays, with gifts intended to give an experience of parental love. Most of the kids got really cool presents; brand new phones, clothes, jewelries, shoes, all the good stuff, and they would usually seclude themselves from others as they explored their gifts in isolation. I remember how each kid would smile from ear to ear as they opened their presents, expressing genuine feelings of gratitude. They always gave the impression of being home with their families.

Being the kind of kid I was, everyone was always curious to know what type of gifts I got. They would open my gifts carefully and in such a way that no one would be able to tell it had been tampered with. What they saw usually made them conclude I had not gotten any gifts yet. They always thought the boxes they saw were simply pranks to get them to mind their business, but they were wrong to assume that.

Each year, I got the same present that kept reminding me of my family, of my separation from them. I always got a blank, empty photograph for my birthday, and it usually made me wonder if it contained any hidden messages. They usually had signatures on them. More like designs, but I always thought them to be signatures, like that of an artist. The signatures were really weird and looked like eyes, and they always made me feel like I was under scrutiny. I hated those gifts and each time I went to complain, I was asked to "Watch". "How the hell am I supposed to 'watch', what am I even watching?" I would argue, trembling as I managed to conceal my fright, sobbing with tears flowing from my eyes, but they never gave me a straight answer. All I ever got was a blank stare, followed by a wide, creepy grin. This always made me uneasy, and I knew I had to quickly figure out a way to destroy those photos and get rid of the chills I had whenever those eyes pierced deep into my soul.

Despite being the weirdest kid at the orphanage, I knew my way around each and every corner of the facility. I usually crawled into the vents with Chloe, and made my way into the attic. The attic was really dusty and most of the times I would have to do some cleaning, so I always brought a dust cloth with me. I was a sucker for horror, and usually played around with my imaginations. I would imagine Chloe to be a monster, and the only time she would reveal her true form was while we were alone in creepy places like this. Each time we were in the attic, we would hear weird sounds coming from the other side of the wall. I would hear people converse in creepy languages, and laugh whenever they mentioned something that sounded like "Grave". Even as a little kid, I knew what graves were all about and I was sure not to get too close to those walls or deep into the darkness. I was quite fearless, but I never wished to end up in a "Grave", whatever they meant.

I consciously zoned out and tried my best not to pay attention to any of those sounds. This time an empty box suddenly appeared before me, with creepy writings on it. Usually, these kind of boxes would be labeled "Do not open" or something along those lines, but this one only stated "Watch", the same word I was trying to escape from. I got curious and was starting to wonder where the box had come from and why it was the only item in the attic. I asked myself why I had not noticed the empty spaces earlier. "Probably because this place is so small" I concluded, as I moved towards the box. I reached out for my pocket and grabbed my knife, as I slowly observed the box. There were writings on one side of the box, and each time I moved around, it seemed to follow, with those writings facing me as they suddenly appeared on empty sides. This was creepy enough for me, but for some reasons I thought, why not experiment some more?

I moved closer and closer, and each time I attempted to open the box, the words on it would change suddenly, and "Watch" soon became "Grave." I paused, terrified, and took a few steps backwards. With each step, I was reminded of how I was alone at the orphanage and how much boredom I had to deal with when Chloe was not around. I thought I finally had the chance to explore something interesting, and maybe this time, put a smile on my face.

I moved closer and closer, ignoring every single warning. I watched as those words kept changing in strange ways I could not explain. I saw those writings morph, forming weird symbols, but this only peaked my curiosity. I was now standing with the box right in front of me, knife in hand and ready to uncover whatever was inside. With a rush of terror and excitement, I cut open the box, tearing it from the side which had the writings. I leaned forward to take a peek, and almost immediately, my mind turned blank and was now filled with the horror of what I had just seen.

They were eyes. The same ones on the photos I had. They stared coldly at me, giving me the deepest chills and making my spine tingle, as I shivered uncontrollably. The attic space was really small, and at this point I was starting to feel the walls close in on me, my lungs pumping faster with my tongue sticking out, as my body begged for water. I hated this claustrophobic experience, and I hurriedly made my way into the vents with Chloe. As I made my way through, I heard those voices as they came from the attic, but this time it sounded like they were calling my name. I sure was a crazy kid with wild imaginations, but I knew at this point that everything was real.

I held Chloe as tight as I could and crawled faster than I ever did. It felt like a race with some unknown entity who knew exactly where I was heading. At each corner, I saw creepy symbols which looked exactly like those eyes, and kept hearing my name as they called louder and louder. I frequented these vents and was sure those writings were never there before. I cringed, terrified by the thoughts of dying in the hands of a demon, never able to see my family again. My body tensed while I gasped, and I was slowly losing my breath as I literally felt my bones getting crushed by the dense walls of the vent. I knew I had to find an exit as soon as possible, but no matter how hard I tried, nowhere seemed to lead anywhere. I was trapped.

Alone with Chloe, helpless, I hoped not to get caught by whatever was chasing me as I squeezed on my lungs for more oxygen. I was slowly going unconscious, unable to tell the difference between imaginations and reality, as everything felt real. I could not feel my legs anymore and my arms were as weak as cold noodles, barely connected to my dying body. I tried to reach Chloe as I managed to gather enough strength, and called her name, but there was no response. I felt her presence fading into the shadows, and into the darkest chambers of my mind. Reality now dawned on me and I soon became the embodiment of helplessness, as horror flowed through my veins. It was Chloe all along, and she had got me right where she wanted. I felt the coldness that came with the bitter feelings of betrayal once more. "No Chloe, not you too!" I grieved, knowing I was doomed. I was now alone in the cold, dark vents, caught by a demon. I struggled to breathe, crushed to bits as blood and guts splattered everywhere while she ripped me apart, cutting her way through my insides, my soul prepared to explore the unknown.

I was dying... Dying with Chloe watching.