I felt strange. A strong sense of impending doom overcame me, overwhelmed my body—suffocated my mind. I knew that any second then I would die. I was certain of it, I would simply drop dead. Someone would come up behind me and stab me in the back. Every toy, every stuffed animal was suspicious in my eyes. Invisible beings roamed the house, waiting for me to position myself within their reach so they could snatch my life as their own, for a fresh new meal served to the demons with whom they dealt before. My breath hastened, my heart felt as though it would jump right out of my chest so as to be left squirming on the ground before me. Each heartbeat amplified. Moving was out of the question, I’d be slaughtered any second. Everyone, everything was my enemy. Yet movement was imperative. I needed to act as if none of this was happening; I needn’t alarm anyone, needn’t worry her. It felt so real but my mind continued to rationalize that this was all my paranoia, I felt torn. My eyes burned as tears threatened to spill over the brim of my lashes, snaking down my now wet cheeks. My fear had gotten the best of me. I tried to hide it—tried to soften my whimpers, to be quiet as possible—but I was noticed nonetheless.

Shame; I remember shame at that moment. I was scared of absolutely nothing, yet everything at the same time, and all for no reason. It wore off, but I remained alert. After a shower, my stomach suddenly began to ache. Stabs of pain punctuated my abdomen as I desperately lay on it in an effort to assuage myself of the affliction. In time, as I fell victim to sweet sleep, my stomach went back to normal and once morning came I had no idea what hit me. The jumbled mass of emotions from the previous night were irrational, incomprehensible! But I cannot deny what took place, however insane it may portray me and can never deny such feelings.