Well. I guess this means I'm back. Again. Before you guys read the story, though, I'd appreciate if you would go vote on my poll.

Warning: This is me trying to write horror, and I'd like to think that it's a lot darker than my usual stories, so if you came here for fluffy bunnies and doctor turtles, you probably won't find it here. I don't own anything, and I would love to hear some of your opinions on this new direction my writing seems determined to take.

Voices. Screaming at her. They were everywhere, they surrounded her, they were the invisible walls closing in that she knew weren't really there but were so very real. They called to her crying moaning sobbing in agony, pleading for her to do so many unspeakable things and she was tempted to comply just so they would shut up shut up shut up and let her sleep. She had been afraid to sleep for days.

It wasn't just the voices, though. There were faces, too. She could see them clearly through the darkness grinning leering mouthing horrors and pleading for her to do so many unspeakable things and she was tempted to comply just so they would go away go away go away and let her open her eyes at night. She had been afraid to open her eyes for days.

There were figures, too. Chasing her as she went through the streets during the day. She could hear their gentle footprints as they made slow, long strides towards her, tall wispy faceless long limbs hunched backs, pleading for her to do so many unspeakable things and she was tempted to comply just so they would turn around turn around turn around and let her stop running. She had been afraid to stop running for days.

The bodies were the worst. Maggot-infested corpses hung themselves in her closet, chunks of flesh falling to the cold hardwood floor and staining it with blood. A child without skin hid under her bed at night, gasping for air and filling the room with desperate wheezing. A woman without a face of her own appeared everywhere she went, the pale skin morphing to resemble everyone she ever loved, screaming in terror. All she wished for was to run hide die forget the images, for them to disappear disappear disappear and let her breathe. She had been afraid to breathe for days.

They grew more grotesque as the days passed, with skin peeling blood spilling limbs bent in so many horrifying ways, they became more impatient, coming after her with claws raised teeth bared, wanting nothing more than to make her break break break, because she did not comply no matter how much she wanted them to shut up go away turn around disappear and leave her alone.

But everything was fine. Oh no, no, no, she wasn't sick everything was fine perfectly fine. She didn't need help, she was fine, perfectly fine, nothing was wrong, nothing at all. Besides, if she got help then people would know that she was insane and they would look down on her because insanity isn't normal and hatred loathing abhorrence everything would change. Her friends would leave and her family would leave and she would be alone alone alone f o r e v e r.

And so Rima Mashiro remained trapped within her own mind.