My parents never believed me when I was 2, when I would wake them in a state of hysteria, trembling and covered in sweat. Instead, they put me back to bed.
They never believed me when I was 5, when I would frantically try to explain the incomprehensible noises I heard coming from underneath my bed. Instead the said it was the sound of the wind.
They never believed me when i was 7, when I relayed to them the messages the voices would say to me. Instead, they told me I just needed some more sleep.
They never believed me when I was 9, when I would wake up with cuts on my arms and legs and tufts of hair pulled out of my head. Instead, they told me it was something I did in my sleep.
They never believed me when I was 12, when I made eye contact with a grinning creature in my doorway,never breaking it for what seemed like hours,until he shut the door. Instead, they told me it was my imagination.
I never believed my parents when I was 15, when their screams pierced the air like knives, turning from terror into pain. Instead, I told myself it was only the wind, or perhaps my imagination. Maybe I needed some more sleep?
Thinking back I only remember that I was smiling.