My bed has an old wooden frame. It's a light brown in color, similar to her eyes. Those eyes that stare at me every night as she stands at the end of my bed. Her pale shaven head seems to somehow glisten in the darkness. Her unclothed chest sunken on the left as if she had been hit with a sledge hammer. Her right breast deformed from what I only imagine is the same injury.
She does nothing but stare from the end of my bed as I try to sleep, a soft rattled breathing accompanying her presence. I do not know the woman, or at the very least I don't remember her. Her eyes look at me in anger though. I've never hurt anyone in my life, but I can feel the heat of her gaze whenever she appears.
It's been like this for three months now. I've gotten used to it mostly, but it took a week before I could sleep when she first started to visit. I've seen a psychiatrist, I've taken the prescribed medications, but absolutely nothing has made her leave. One prescription left me even more paranoid, frozen in fear as I found my self locking eyes with her, blinking one eye at a time the whole night in case she took me while I blinked.
I don't understand why she's here, but last night she seemed to speak for the first time. All she said was "Kill Michael." I don't know who she's talking about, but it's difficult to restrain myself from finding out.