You know that horrid feeling you get when you are having a nightmare? The one where you know there is danger all around you, but no matter how loud you scream or how fast you run, you can never escape. Imagine that, but not only does it occur at night, but during the day also, living in constant fear that your pursuer will overtake you.  You can scream until your throat blisters and no sound escapes through your lips, but no one will ever come. Everything is completely numb, only feeling pressure and slight tingles, but all in all your senses are dead to all of mankind. Lastly, you must imagine all of this emotion and misery, contained inside one body, being held inside a trapped soul. My name is Eveline Hill, and that soul resides inside of me.

Six agonizing years I have been living in my own personal h*ll, being burned alive, never dying but feeling the pain, seeing the anguish, not being able to turn away or close my eyes. Each scar contained a story, each hiding a secret that was locked away behind an iron door, never to be let out. My only safe haven is the small crawl space that led to the attic, the only place the horror could not seek me out. Where I could lock out reality and engulf myself in a fairy tale land, if only for an hour, long enough to dull the throbbing torture.

Currently, my state of being drove me to that very place now, to vanish from the growing despair that inhabited the rest of the house. Tears welled in my eyes, spilling over the rims and soaking my cheeks. The only light filling the room was from a nearby window, allowing a tiny ray of burning sunshine to brighten the space. I grazed my fingertips across the rough wooden frame, wishing with everything in me that I could just disappear into thin air, like the steam dissolving from a boiling pot of water, never to be heard of again.

The stomping footsteps a floor below echoed through my mind, eliminating any peace that I was storing inside for a time of desperation. The thudding came to a halt somewhere below me and the clang of shattering glass was eminent. “EVELINE!” his yell was surly loud enough to pass through the walls. More tears spilled at the knowledge of what was about to happen to me.

Reality came crashing down on my heavy weighted shoulders as I stood on shaky knees to meet my fate. Each step down the stairs was like a death march, every inch of my body cringed in pain from the simple movement, but I knew I had to keep going or the consequences could be dire. Reaching the doorway only big enough for a small child to pass through, I filled my lungs with the dusty air around me, noting the tug in my aching ribs as I did so.

Crawling through, I was greeted by a hand grasping me off of the floor and onto my unsteady feet. I stood before the vile man whose grip was entirely too strong on my bony shoulders.  With one encouraging breath, I looked at the face of the man who created my personal h*ll, I gazed straight into the eyes of the Devil.