Hide and Seek

Summary: If I see him, he wins... AU Rated T

Inspiration: The spirit that "plays" with me in the middle of the night.

A/N: Yes, I think my room is haunted. Read at night, alone, for more effect.

You can't grow out of fear. Not when it plays with you. I used to be afraid of the dark, of sudden noises, of being alone. Now, at sixteen years old, I am afraid of the game.

I always woke in the middle of the night from the nightmares. That was when the game started. The floorboards would creak or the door would sway, making squeaking noises and alerting me to monsters. My throat would be parched and my glass for water would be empty. If I dared to open my eyes, blackness just covered my vision. I would picture creepy things just lurking in the dark ready to eat me. Of course, my eyes would adjust but there would still be patches of darkness.

A figure would stand in my doorway, staring at me.

I was too frightened to scream; my breaths came in fast huffs. I didn't want to take my eyes off of him. It felt like hours before he slid away out of my vision down the hall. I never heard footsteps.

After a few hours of laying in bed, just staring at the door with widened eyes, I would get up slowly, keeping my feet out of arms' length from under the bed. You see, I had constant nightmares about someone grabbing my foot. Awkwardly, I pushed myself upright and grabbed my glass.

Slowly, I peeked out into the long hallway. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked. What if the figure was just outside the door, staring at me?

But, no, there wasn't anybody there. The dim light from the downstairs clock gave me little sense of peace.

I had to tiptoe down the hall, not wanting to wake my family. I was careful to not look in the mirror in the bathroom as red, glowing eyes glared at me. There was that childish expression that 'if I can't see it, it can't see me' that I didn't believe much. If he- whatever 'he' was- wanted to kill me, I would rather die from a physical hit than a heart attack from fright.

Down the stairs, I start to hear taps. I kept my curious eyes on my glass. Too many horror movies told me not to look around the living area and see someone standing there, facing me. Again, I would rather not see a horrifying image before I die.

The taps stopped when I was in the kitchen. I had to raise my gaze.

There was nothing. Nothing but darkness.

I hurriedly flicked on the light, relief would fill me like the blinding light that filled the room. I would happily get my water and just stand against the counters to calm my heart. Because I knew, as soon as I turned the light off, I would be in the game again.

I left my empty glass in the sink and went to turn off the light. As soon as it went dark, my heart jumped and my stomach dropped.

Glowing red eyes stood right in front of me. Smirking down at me. His cool breath whispered in my ear before everything went dark.

When I didn't need to get up the next night, I would turn my back on the door that was always slightly ajar. I thought ignoring him would make him go away.

I could feel him standing right behind me. Staring down at me.

I trembled, keeping my eyes tightly shut until my eyelids felt sore. Sweat dripped down my forehead but I didn't dare kick off the blanket and make myself even more vulnerable. I tried thinking of other things, tried to relax. Maybe the feeling was all in my head.

It never left.

I stayed in a straining position until the sun rose and I dared a glance over my shoulder. I expected the worse; a killer hovering above me with a knife at hand, a monster with bloody fangs and gleaming red eyes. But there was nothing. I rolled onto my back as I stared at the empty space. My eyes would suddenly tear up and Mama would find me sobbing in my pillow when she got up to get me ready for school.

Most often, I wouldn't get out of the safe cocoon of my blankets at night. But, as each uneventful night passed by, his patience grew thin.

I would hear claws running down the fabric of my blanket as I hid underneath it. The harmful caress sending uncontrollable shivers down my spine. I had found four long scratches in my blanket and the cotton inside spread all around my room. Mama didn't know how to explain it logically but easily forgot about it.

When I was younger, I tried sleeping in Mama's bed but the peace only lasted a couple days before she sent me back to my room. I never got any sleep as he played with me, making my teachers and Mama concerned. I couldn't find any words to explain the phenomenon that was happening to me then. Mama sent me to a doctor but I was healthy. She brought me to a therapist and he said I had an over-reactive imagination. She took away all my toys when she found my broken dolls. Their heads would hang from their hair in the most unusual places.

'It wasn't me!' I tried to explain. 'It was him' Mama got frustrated and yelled at me. 'There is no him!' she shouted, 'He's not real!' I knew I couldn't speak to her about them ever again.

Night after night he tortured me. I hid myself under my blanket and hands would openly brush against me. Out of the corner of my eye, as I grew older, I would catch movement in the darkness.

When it got to be too much, I would run away. I would curl up outside and wait for morning. He never chased me outside, but I almost never succeeded either.

One night, it all stopped.

I just stared at the ceiling, waiting for him to start. It was useless fighting what you can't hurt. I was tired of playing his game. My energy was drained to the point where I didn't want to leave the bed, even in the daylight. I winced when I felt the mattress shift, a weight settling near my hips. My eyes were the size of saucers as I stared at the blank space. There was no malevolent aura near my bed but I was still wary. The springs creaked and I felt a hand against my forehead. The feeling was light as it slid down and cupped my cheek.

I assumed the spirit that sat next to me was my grandfather, whom died in his bed a couple years ago. That he was driving him away.

A few months later, the gentle spirit was back. He sat on my bed and I felt eyes on me. There was no more fright in my heart from the one who stares. He was watching over me.

I breathed a sigh of relief as a hand brushed through my hair. It was over. The years of hiding my eyes were over.

I gasped and cried out when it started pulling my hair. It dragged me half out of her bed and I screamed at the top of her lungs as red met my vision. I thrashed against his grip, my hands colliding with nothing but air.

Dark chuckles reached my ears. "Open your eyes."

A/N: Again, five in the morning is when this was finished, though, this time I freaked myself out by writing this in the dark and in my haunted room. What's weird is that when I first started, I plainly saw Kagome and Inuyasha. But when I reread it, I realized it could be practically anyone. Who did you think it was?

When I was younger, I used to tell awesome scary stories to my friends (I mean to the point where little siblings cried) and I wanted to see if I could still do it. Did I succeed?