I've been helping people who suffer from mental illnesses for the past 10 years. I made it a point to always listen to what they have to say, to understand where all the darkness are coming from. It was a foundation that my classmates and I started. The benefactors were thankful, because little by little, they’re starting to believe that it will get better.
Most of them were victims of abused or bullying. And I don't really get the point of people, on why they always want to get a good start on one person, to destroy their self-esteem, to shatter what little faith they have on themselves, to break them. It really, really annoys the fuck out of me. No one deserved to be belittled by someone. And as much as the act angers me, it also opens memories that I've buried deep within my mind.
When I was seven, I met a wonderful girl. Her name's Anina, and she's my best friend. She was cheerful, funny, just the typical bubbly kid. She's friends with everyone, even the nasty kids. I've never remember a time when a classmate of ours would cry longer, because she was always there to turn their frown upside down. She was the joker of the class. She wasn't one of the brightest, but she's pretty talented. Her drawings and paintings were always the star of our art class. She would always win the art contests that were held on our school every year. I was very proud of her and I support what she loves.
She’s adored by everyone, mostly because she’s the sunshine that everyone desperately needs. Every year, she would have more friends than before. And every time one of her friends was bully, she would always stand up for them and I would always be by her side. I was one of those big kids, that’s why whenever she would “teach someone a good lesson,” I make sure to always be by her side (just in case something goes wrong). It got to a point where the bullying on our school decreased, and the faculty members were pleased, because of her doings.
We were sixteen when I really noticed the changes in her. I don't know if it was just puberty. I don't have any clue on why she was behaving that way, it was all too foreign to me, and it was like looking at her from a different angle. The changes were subtle at first. The lack of emotion. The faraway look partnered with a heavy sigh. The withdrawal from society. The darkness in her works (on how obscene her works became, it was horrifying and beautiful at the same time). And the cryptic words that she would sometimes utter to herself (in which I would ask her of, but she would just brush it aside). I might just be overreacting or being dramatic, but the feeling I got whenever I was with her was off. Almost like it wasn't Anina I was with.
One minute she was all scary and shit, then the next she was back to the old Anina—the one who was always cheerful. It was a week later after noticing the changes in her that she went back to the old her, like those few weeks never really happened. I told myself that I'll watch as closely as I can, and after two weeks, I shrugged it off as an emo phase. It didn't bother me anymore. All I care now is that she's back to herself again.
Two more weeks and school would be over. I thought that it would just be another boring day, how I really wish it was just a boring day.
Our teacher at that time was late, as usual. We were all waiting when the principal went to our classroom. He surveyed everyone and when he seemed satisfied with the silence, he then told us how an accident took the life of Martha, Anina's sister, and because of that she (Anina) won't be with us until the end of the school year. I was shaken, that's when I noticed the lack of Anina's presence. I hurriedly took out my phone, not a single message was there. I then texted her, I asked her what was going on. I only received a vague message containing the words, "I'm okay now, Matt."
I've decided that I'll visit Anina after class. She needed me now more than ever. After dropping my stuff at home, I hurriedly ran towards their street. Their house were silent, no lights were on. No cars on their driveway. I called Anina, I was fucking panicking at that point, I don't know why, but it felt like something's wrong. I was kind of relieved when she picked up.
"Anina, where are you? I'm right outside your house." "You shouldn't have wasted your time." "I'm sorry for what happened to your sister, I know that you're grieving right now, and I understand. I just want you to know that I'm here; I'll always be here for you. So, please, please just tell me where you are." "Thank you, Matt, but I'll just tell you when I'm... ready to talk to anyone." "Okay, okay, I understand."
I didn't press for more, knowing that she might be suffering from her loss, but I should have. I was a fool for taking my eyes off of her.
It was already summer, school has been over for a few weeks now. I've never seen or talked to Anina ever since that phone call. She never got in touch with me again. I tried calling her parents, but neither answered. I wasn't even invited to the private burial that they held. It saddened me that she had cut off every connection that she has with me. That's when I started to receive packages. When I saw that it was clearly a canvas, the thought that Anina was trying to reach out for me again pass through my mind, I was excited. At least, I'll have a glimpsed of my best friend again.
The package had an odd wrapping on it, too thick. When I opened it, it was even covered by a cloth, and what was on a painting made my stomach churn. The painting depicts an image of the chopped head of Martha, held by a sinister looking Anina. On Anina's other hand was a butcher's knife. Martha's eyes were removed, together with the eyelids, leaving a gaping hole. Her jaw was removed, like it was torn from the rest of her head. Her tongue was in view, blood can be seen dripping from it. I couldn't take it and I dropped the canvas and ran towards my comfort room; I vomited the rest of my lunch. It was horrifying. I can't erase the image from my head.
When I got my bearings back, I surveyed the rest of the package and no letter was attached to it. I was still shaken, but I figured that I needed to confront her for this. I called her; she picked it up on the third ring. She only said one thing "Did you like my gift?" Then the phone call went dead. I sent her multiple messages, asking her why she would send me such horrifying painting, what happened to her, why she won't talk to me anymore, but none received any respond.
It was a few days later, when I received the same sized package, with the same wrapping, but a different yet more frightening content than the last one. Painted on the canvas was an image of Anina feeding her parents. It's not as simple as it seemed to be. Her parents were tied to a chair with barbed wire and were forced to eat raw meat. On their background were Martha's remains. I figured that it was hers since her head can be vaguely seen together with the body. The way Anina looked at her parents was one with amusement. I know that the images weren’t real, but fuck, it was sick and twisted.
I sent her a message, asking her to stop sending me those paintings, but the reply I got and the actions that happened next scarred me for life. On the message, she said, "Sure, I'll send you other stuff then. I bet you'll like them more."
What she sent me the next day was the skin of her father’s face and the right hand of her mother (I remembered that it was hers since she had a butterfly tattoo on her ring finger). I screamed. My parents went to see what was going on and found the package as well. My mom vomited and my father immediately called the police and told them what happened.
Anina was found, cradling the chopped rotting face of her sister, jaw ripped off, and a gaping hole on what was supposed to be her eyes. The remains of Martha's body were also found inside the refrigerator. Her father was already dead from the blood loss. Her mother was rushed to the hospital. I still don't know if she did make it, or not. Anina was taken into custody. My parents and I were questioned by the police regarding the whole ordeal. I told them about the paintings, the vague messages after Martha's death was announced, and the phone call.
Later the month, I found out from the same officer who interrogated us that Anina was sent to a facility where her actions will be monitored. She was unstable and was suffering from depression, schizophrenia, and a dissociative identity disorder. A letter was also given to me. The officer said that before Anina completely lost it, she told the officer to give me the letter that can be found on her sketch book back at her house. I asked him if he or the police department opened the letter, he whispered that no one aside from the three of us knew about the letter and that he didn't open it. I asked him why he didn't tell the others about it and why he didn't open it himself, he told me that a long time ago he's daughter was saved by Anina and that he owed her that much.
The letter then explained to me how, for a few years now, she had been suffering from depression that her own family caused her. She said that late at night, her mother would always go to her room and whisper how she (her mother) wished that she had aborted her instead of watching her (Anina) disgrace their family. Her mother would tell her how much they love, appreciated, and want Martha instead of her. Her mother would then fill her up with horrific intentions, how much she wanted to feed her bones to the neighbour's dogs, because they can do so much better with their lives as a guard than she could ever become of herself. How she has always wondered how she would look like without her skin, or how she would have loved to paint her nails that she would have removed from her fingers. She cried every time her mother would leave her room. She would cut her thighs to relieve the mental pain that she's in. Every time her mother would pay her a visit, she would always have another deep cut. She said that only physical pain can save her from the emotional turmoil that she's in.
She also discussed how her father would always look at her with hatred whenever she would speak to them during dinner. Sometimes, her father wouldn't even acknowledge her. She said that one time, his father said, "I don't have an imbecile of a daughter, oh wait, I think I'd rather have an imbecile of a daughter than the trash she (Anina) already is." And her sister, oh, how her sister shattered her world more. Martha framed her for stealing jewelleries and money from her parents. How she would ruin every piece that she was working on. How she would blackmail her into doing something that she wants, because of a video that she took of her changing her clothes. And there were more.
Anina said on her letter that one day, she just felt the world slipping away from her grasp. She said that it felt like she was falling into a deep slumber and that she heard her voice said that she's going to be okay now. And when she finally woke up, she saw that their house was a mess, her parents were tied to a chair, her sister was crying, and she was holding something. She dropped what she was holding, scrambled far away from her family and cried. A few minutes later, she felt that same feeling of slipping away again. And the next time that she woke up again, she was back in her room, in front of a canvas. Panic settled in, she began writing this letter, thinking to herself that she might not have the chance to explain herself to me.
She also explained how sorry she is for whatever she might have done in the past to me, and that she has always cherished our friendship. I started crying. I never knew my best friend went through hell. I don't deserve to be called her best friend. I didn't even get the hint, when she needs me the most, I wasn't there for her. Fuck.
After realizing how much of an asshole I was, I continued reading her letter and a handwriting that's different from hers were found at the bottom part of the letter, it said: "She didn't deserve this shit, they brought hell to themselves. I just paid them a visit."
Submitted May 21, 2017 at 03:09PM by insideyourpillow http://ift.tt/2rqsb0H nosleep
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