My mind leaked black slime that oozed into every pore and choked me with deception. It twisted and crawled, slithered with creatures too scary for most to imagine. My monster, my demons, the shadows that skidded off the walls and took on humanoid shapes. They would paralyze people with fear. Even though they’d left and have yet to return since my hospitalization, I’d accepted the memory of their existence, grown used to it. I realized I would always be a much scarier beast than my mind and the evil it can produce. I’m frightfully worse. Because I am, and have always been, real.
