I followed the strange beast down the rotting wooden stairs of the abandoned house's basement. As I stepped off the bottom stair I drew in a shaky breath of the musty basement air through my nose. The place was utterly disgusting, it smelt of death and decaying bodies. I ignored the alarms going off inside my mind, telling me to run, to get out of there as fast as I could. I kept walking into the deep, dark shadows of the basement, goosebumps forming, almost crawling up my arm, making the hairs stand up from the cold damp air. "...a human..." "...food..." "...good job Kaloni" I heard murmurs all around me and fear skittered down my spin. Suddenly I wasn't walking anymore. I was paralyzed. I wanted to turn, to run to the door and I finally got control of my senses and sprinted towards the door. "Shut the door Kaloni!" Something behind me screeched. I was almost to the top of the stairs when the door was slammed shut and I was dragged down the stairs by my ankles. "Noo!!" I Screamed with terror, trying to grab something. I wished I would've listen to the alarms going off in my head. I started sobbing and screaming because I knew I was going to die. Weather it be a slow and painfully hot death or a quick, cold death. Whatever it was, I knew I was ****ed.
I screamed and fell to the floor with a thud. "Ouf." I grunted. “Boy the shrink is sure going to like this dream. 'Oh honey it's just a phase, but let's talk about it'” I mocked my annoying shrink inside my head. I grabbed my journal and started jotting down everything about my weird dream and my feelings towards it. They wanted me to write down whenever I had bad feelings and what gave me bad feelings. It's stupid in my opinion. I'm Lindsay. The weird girl. The girl everybody picks on in highschool. Yes I'm lame. I don't know why though I'm pretty, says my mom. I could care less about the bullies. Except for the fact that I, uh, kinda tried hurting myself a month ago. So now I'm in this place. I've been calling it home for over a month now. I get up and walk down the hall to your office. You always told I can come whenever, but then you always say I have to do the talking. You know I don't like it but yet you dont say a word until I start. I knock on your door and I hear you say "come in." I sit down on the old, itchy couch and you roll your chair in front of me and plot down with a sigh. "What was it this time?" You ask. I hand you my journal and mumble the page number "Sixty-eight," You lean back in your chair and I groans like an animal. The animal is should still be. "Monsters? Man-eating monsters?" you say, looking over your glasses. You slam my journal shut and I jump from the noise and fiddle with the loose string on my shirt. "I thought you were supposed to be in twelfth grade, Lindsay." you say. I grab my journal and walk to the door. "Yeah, and I thought you were supposed to be a shrink." I said, walking out the door.