Allison slammed her locker shut, only to be confronted by Trisha, her worst nightmare. "Leave me alone," Allison spat, but Trisha's cold hand shoved her against the locker.
"You don't dare walk away from me while I'm still talking," Trisha sneered, her grip tightening. Allison, petite in her black top, blue jeans, and pink hoodie, struggled to break free. Her ponytail swung as she tried to escape, but Trisha's hold was too strong.
"Give me that!" Trisha snatched the vintage teddy bear from Allison's hand and flung it to the ground, stepping on it with a cruel laugh. Her crew's mocking laughter echoed through the empty hallway.
Allison rushed to retrieve her beloved teddy, crouching down to cradle it in her hands. "Mr. Whiskers," she whispered, her voice shaking with anger and pity. Trisha's parting shot, "Lame teddy!" faded away with her receding footsteps.
***
"Goodnight sweetie" Mrs. Martins kissed Allison's forehead after reading out her bedtime stories.
"Goodnight mom" Allison lets out a lungful of air as she snuggled under the white fluffy duvet.
"Love you." Says her mom as she stepped down from the bed. Turning off the lamplight, she walked to the door, grabbed the handle and spared Allison one last look before leaving and shutting the door afterwards.
"Goodnight, Mr Whiskers" Allison hugged her teddy bear so tight and close to her before her eyes drifted to sleep.
***
Trisha groaned, "Not the rain again," as she threw off her covers and rushed to secure the windows. She closed the curtains, plunging the room into darkness, before collapsing back onto her bed. Clutching the pink duvet tightly, she appeared vulnerable in her matching nightgown. The flashing lightning, pattering raindrops, and rumbling thunder outside her window filled her with fear.
By day, Trisha was a bully, intimidating others with ease. But by night, she was a different person, terrified of the storms that raged outside. As she drifted off to sleep, a menacing presence lurked outside her window, peering in and fixing her with a deadly stare.
Its stare like an actual touch on her skin but she ignored and turned to the other side of the bed, mumbling something barely audible. Clearly, the flashing lightening, pattering raindrops and thunder rumbling sank deep into her filling her with disturbing mixture of fear and vulnerability.
She squeezed her eyes tight as the thunder rumbling continued and the flash of lightening plunging the room with brightness. Trisha groaned. The depths of the discomfort she was battling couldn't be contained.
But then, she hears a whisper.
"Open your eyes."
She snapped out of her sleepless self and sat upright, breathing heavily and sweating profusely. "Who's there?" her wide-eyed scanning the spacious dark room barely plunging with the flash from the lightening outside and she turned on the lamplight beside her bed.
"Mom? Is that you?" she broke out in a cry, her breath shaking and sweat sprouting on the back of her neck and forehead.
"Dad?" she called this time but got no response.
She glanced at the window and closed curtains and swallowed nothing. Falling asleep was now difficult and she stepped down from the bed and went into her washroom.
She stood unseeingly in front of the wall mirror as she rinsed her face with water running from the tap.
Heaving a deep sigh, she turned off the tap and looked into the mirror. Her eyes were tired and dilated as she stared at her own reflection and then the light flickered.
She gasped as she spun around and raised her gaze to the bulb. 𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎. She said in her thoughts as she turned to face the mirror again and suddenly the lights went out.
Her raspy breathing engrossed the washroom as she swarm in an neverending darkness. Thought they said, 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕? Well that's not in her case.
After around one minutes of total blackout, the lights came back on and she was terrified. Was the storm also affecting the electricity? Some would ask, but no, someone else was playing with the electricity.
Setting her eyes back to the mirror, her eyes froze at the sight of what was written on the mirror.
𝐵𝑒 𝐴𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑... 𝐵𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝐴𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑.
She gulped down nothing.
Her heart was pounding out of her chest.
But then, her gaze caught sight of the reflection of something even more horrifying;
A vintage fuzzy wet teddy bear sitting at the other brink of the washroom.
As she turned around, slowly, wide-eyed and petrified, the whispering voice filled her ears.
"𝐵𝑒 𝐴𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑..." and then the lights wet off plunging the washroom with a sinister darkness.
A soft thud onto the marble tile floor and the lights came back on bringing to view the body crumpled lifeless body laying in its own pool of goey blood.
Her head was on the other side of the washroom.
It reeks and feeds off fear and Trisha gave it the key to her own death.
***
The early morning sun peered through the glass windows and casted it warm array on Allison's round pretty face. Fifteen-years old Allison sure slept like a baby.
A soft knock on the her door and she groaned tiredly but her mom didn't care anyways than to push open the door and stand by the entryway.
"Oh c'mon Alli, wake up." Mrs. Eunice's voice a sweet Melody of tranquility in the ears of Allison but instead, she turned away to the other side and burried herself under the duvet. Her opulent small room sweet and matching her style. Green was her favorite color and it was the color of her room.
"I wanna sleep more" she groaned, lazily as she snuggled Mr. Whiskers, her teddy bear close to her body.
Her mom walked in and sat close to her on the bed. Her smile couldn't fade away seeing Allison's lazy side resurfacing.
Mrs. Eunice pulled away the cover from her and kissed her forehead; she does that every morning.
"Good morning sweetie" she smiled fromesr to ear.
***
The police had just gotten all the vital information from Mr and Mrs. James, the parents of Trisha James about the tragic and mysterious death of their Sixteen-years-old daughter and had taken her body away, one last question was thrown at Mrs. Laura James.
"Is there any other thing you'd like to say, ma'am?" the black police lady asked, holding a jotter and a pen.
"𝐵𝑒 𝐴𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑... " Mrs. Luara James whispered in tears. "𝐵𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝐴𝑓𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑑."