I layed in my bed. All was quiet. Until I started to hear voices. Loud yelling and screaming filled the air around me. My head was exploding from the constant noise. There was no room left for anything else in my head, as my brain was busy trying to stop the agonizing sound. Finally, all was silent.
I did not fall asleep that night. I just sat in my bed, hoping and praying that my ears would only hear the quiet chirping of crickets for the rest of the night. one, two, three, four hours passed. Nothing. Just silence. one,two,three nights passed. Nothing. Just silence.
I started to think it was all in my head, but that thought was washed away on the fourth night.
Dreams turned into nightmares. I woke from my coma-like sleep because of an unremitting banging on my bedroom door. I quickly turned on my bedside lamp. No one should be in my house, I thought. I ran over to my desk to grab scissors. In seconds I was back at the door. I leaned myself against the wall next to the door’s frame. I clenched the scissors so tightly that I could feel blisters forming. Without thinking about it, I touched the doorknob. Before I could turn my hand, the old wooden door began to creak open.
The figure that stood behind the door was a white cat with black spots. I picked up the cat not knowing how a tiny pet could have made the sounds I heard in my house. Suddenly, the cat started to change. Its head grew big. Green hair, red face, crazed eyes. The face paint dripped and it looked as if the clown had been caught in a hurricane.
Soon, the cat’s face was just white fur, with a black spot that surrounded his right eye. I dropped the cat to the ground. My brain told me to kill the animal. But my heart would not let me. Instead, I just led it outside with a bowl of milk. Surprisingly, I felt no sympathy watching the cat struggle trying to escape the storm I threw him into. But I myself was also in a storm. A mental storm.
Nothing that was happening to me made sense. What were the whispers I heard four nights ago? How could a cat have made such loud banging on my bedroom door? What happened to the cat’s head? All questions that my brain could not release from its jail of thoughts.
Answers also swished through my mind, but I could not come up with anything that explained everything that happened to me. I knew if I just let what happened go, everything would just happen again. I knew I needed information. The only reasonable place to go to was the library. So quickly I ran. I ran into the street. So fast that I didn't see the truck. I didn't hear the horn honking. I didn't feel the pain. In fact I didn't feel anything. Except for the push. A clown with green hair, red face, crazed eyes with face paint that dripped and made him look like the clown had been caught in a hurricane. Then everything just went black. I was dead. And then I wasn't.
Suddenly I was back laying in my bed at home. All was quiet. Then the voices started. I remember this day. It already happened. What's going on? I am supposed to be dead. But now I am not. God is giving me a second chance. A second chance to not mess things up. And I won't.
The voices. I need to stop them. That is how I keep things from messing up. But how will I stop it? I knew how to stop it. Three nights from then I would stop it all.
On the fourth night of my second chance. Everything happened just the same as my first chance. But this time I killed the cat. As soon as my scissors dug into the cat’s fur, green slimy blood began to flood out of the tiny animal’s body.
Suddenly, the cat’s body began to rise. When the pet reached eye level with me, it released a small breath and then evaporated into small particles that could not be seen. A single drop of its blood fell to the floor.
It was over. I used my second chance to clean up my life. Now no one knows my story. I don't dare to tell anyone in fear that everything will begin again. But I will not let that happen.