The Haunting: Part 2 - The Defiance

(This is part II of my haunted apartment story. Part 1 can be found here.)

They never did say "I told you so" -but then again, they didn't have to. When daylight finally came, my roommates and I silently crept up the stairs to the second floor to survey the damage.

Absolutely nothing was out of order. Nothing.

We all looked at each other, and wordlessly understood that we would have to band together from here on out. We had no idea what was yet to come.

The night I heard the running footsteps marked the last night I would feel in control when it was time for bed. Every single night from there on out was filled with my salty, hot tears; whimpers; and borderline hysteria.

The very next night, the spasms started. Every single night after I first heard the footsteps, something would seemingly possess my body for a few short seconds when I would lay in bed.

I never wanted to turn the lights off. I would get into my pajamas, say goodnight to my roommates who's rooms seemed a world away, and shaking, would retire to my room.

I slowly would drag myself into bed, and lay perfectly still underneath all of my covers, while staring at the blank white ceiling. Not a single inch of flesh was exposed from under the covers, save my face. It didn't matter that it was so warm that I was sweating.

The first time the spasm occurred I wrote it off as a bizarre and frightening experience that would probably never happen again. But then it did- over, and over, and over, and over. Every. single. maddening. night.

About ten minutes into laying down for the evening (under the covers, with the lights on, staring at the ceiling, totally and vividly awake) I would start to get a tingling sensation in my lower legs, almost as if they were falling asleep. The tingling would escalate into a feeling that I am quite unable to explain, but it was just DIFFERENT from the normal 'limbs falling asleep' feeling. When this happened I would close my eyes and fight the tears, because I knew what was going to happen next. As soon as the 'tingling' got to epic proportions, my entire body would jerk violently, my back would arch, and my body would literally propel into the air in my bed. It was all over in 2 seconds, but those were two seconds that my body was not in my control. I would then lie in bed, sobbing silently. It made me feel so powerless, so afraid. Even now that I type this out, it must seem crazy and not make any sense. I wish I could have it make sense. But just imagine this happening every single night for months. Knowing that it was about to happen and being POWERLESS to stop it.

I was so scared that I would sob myself to sleep every night, lights on and all, and just when I could sense that I was a breath away from deep sleep, I would suddenly jump up, lunge forward, and turn the light off. The goal was to fall back into bed so quickly that I would instantly fall asleep. Sometimes when I woke up in the morning the light would still be on.

This nightly routine was interrupted a week or so after I started getting the involuntary spasms. One night, I hit the lights off, but when I fell back into bed, I was suddenly wide awake.

This was bad.

Utter fear permeated every sense of my being. I was too afraid to get up and turn it back on, because that would mean leaving the comfort and solace of my blankets. To be exposed to IT. What if it appeared to me when I was out of my bed? If I laid in bed and stuck it out, at least I could hide underneath all of the covers.

So I laid there in the jet black darkness, praying silently for sleep to overcome me. The house began to settle- creaks and groans echoed throughout. Then I noticed that I felt very, very cold. In fact, it was just my face. My face was cold.

Suddenly I realized that every time I breathed, little puffs of white breath filled the air. The moonlight filtered in through the window and illuminated the clouds of my jagged breathing. The air was so cold that I could see my breath.

It was April.
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Miss Jen's mom decided to surprise us with a visit soon after. When she came into the house, she greeted us all cheerfully and announced that she was just going to crash upstairs- after all, it had a fouton, TV, fridge, closet, and bathroom with a shower. Why would she NOT sleep up there? We all exchanged looks.

The Roomies, Miss Jen's mom, and I all decided to go out to dinner and have a few laughs. I parted ways soon after to meet up with my boyfriend for awhile. Everyone else went shopping, and then home to the apartment.

When I arrived back at home later that evening, Miss Jen and her mom anxiously greeted me at the door, asking if I stopped at home right after dinner before going to The Athlete's place for snuggle time. "Um, no." I replied. And then the dreaded question. "Why?"

Turns out that Miss Jen's mom went upstairs after they returned in order to put on some comfy clothes and drop off some purchases. Her suitcase had been unzipped, and her clothes were strewn all across the room. A floor lamp was knocked over. Her toiletries had been removed from a tiny bag and thrown across a table.

Her mom literally thought that I went through her stuff and did that. She couldn't have been more wrong. I verbally cursed the ghost for taking things to this scary new level. Physically moving personal, large objects was pushing the limits for me. Any shred of control that I felt disappeared that day.

Two weeks later, The Roomies and I woke up particularly hung over on a Sunday, and headed to a greasy local diner for some comfort food. It was a beautiful spring day, and we returned to the apartment laughing and singing.

I walked into my room and was stunned.

Someone had stripped the sheets off of my bed, and threw them on the ground. My pillow was tossed into a remote corner of my room. My comforter, as in an act of defiance, was thrown directly on the ground in front of my bed, where I step to lunge towards the light switch every night. My blood literally ran cold. This thing was taking the ONLY comfort that I had in the house, my bed and its contents, and deliberately STRIPPED them and THREW them down on the floor. As if to say, haha, I'll get the best of you yet, and even better- I'll be waiting for you when the sun comes down.

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The TV/family room was literally right outside of my bedroom, and sometimes I would sit and watch TV by myself when the girls were asleep. The soft glow of the screen and the muffled voices made me feel human again, and allowed me to forget about what was watching me in the dark. One of those times I suddenly noticed that every minute or so, my head would literally unknowingly turn and glance into the dining room, as if to nonchalantly check on something. This is the same room that the dog freaked out in, and the same room where I would sit at my computer as I felt someone stare into my back.

When I suddenly realized that I CONSTANTLY and INVOLUNTARILY looked over into that room, I was very alarmed. Something was compelling me to look over there. This next part will probably sound strange, but I am totally convinced of it. It was then that I moved to the opposite end of the TV room and sat on the couch that faced out into the dining room. I decided to face the sensation head on, and defiantly stare right into the room.

I then felt the creepiest, and most spine tingling sensation that a man in his 40's or mid-50's was standing straight up in the middle of the dining room, facing me. Boring right into me. He wasn't smiling. He didn't look mean necessarily, but he looked foreboding. I literally saw this man although he didn't literally 'appear' to me. I know that this doesn't make a lot of sense. But I was utterly convinced that the man I imagined was really indeed standing there, staring right into me. Little did I know that my theory would be proved a few weeks later.

I spent many nights at The Athlete's, crying into his pillow and mumbling about how my house was possessed, and how I was losing my mind. He would absentmindedly pat me on the head and listen to me ramble, but I knew he thought I was exaggerating what was going on in the house. He didn't really believe that it was haunted. He thought it was my imagination. I don't blame him for thinking this, because nothing ever happened if strangers were there. It wanted us.
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But The Athlete would soon change his mind. Little did we know that in a few weeks time, my roommates and I would each be personally tested by the spirit in physically terrifying ways that we could never imagine.

Sleeping with butcher knives next to our beds then became commonplace.

Sanity was quickly forgotten.