Dark Sights

Midnight again, and yet I still can’t sleep. Staring up at my ceiling has not helped, nor will it ever. Counting the holes, bumps, and scratches on it, or my walls, hasn’t helped either. I can hear my heartbeat, slowly and meticulously pumping each pint of dark red life through my arteries, then through my capillaries and my veins, circulating each little cell through my whole body. My breathing comes up next in my ears, slow and steady as my lungs suck in and push out each oxygen molecule.
The darkness around me, thinned by my keen eyes, makes every sense sharper in my brain; each smell, sound, or sight can’t escape me, every rustle of my sheets is easy to detect, and the stagnant taste of saliva in my mouth is constant.
Sitting up again, I slide my eyes carefully over each detail in my room, feeling my heart quicken. I quickly look over each and everything again, feeling my heart thump faster and faster in my chest, until it feels as if it is ready to burst. Nothing is changed, but I keep seeing things that I know were not in my room before.
Movement. I turn my head, a breath catching in my throat. I feel the immense fear of whatever it is gripping in my mind, freezing my blood and the air around me. The entity, a single face, is mere feet from me. It has no body, nor does it seem to need one, but I can tell that there is something holding it up. Its eyes are gone, replaced by bloodied sockets and razors. The things’ cheeks are cut into a permanent smirk, and most of its teeth are gone or blackened.
Darkness swallows it, and retreats immediately, leaving my room empty once more. I can feel my heart beating in my throat; my brain buzzing with tiny currents, each one sending a different message to the same spot in my head. I feel bile rise up from my gut, but I swallow it back down, afraid that any movement or action will bring the horrifying thing back. My back is stiff as a board, every muscle, tendon, and ligament drawn taught, as I wait.
In my wait, for what must have been hours, more faces appeared and disappeared, each one representing someone I knew or something I felt: my mother, my sister, my hate, my friends, my teachers, my enemies, and, finally, my girlfriend. Out of them all, her face was untouched by all the scars, razors, and marks the others were subjected to, but hers shook me the most. She had stared at me, eyes wide in fear and anxiety, and stayed for what I guessed was an hour. She didn’t do anything else; she just stared,
The sun is almost up now, and I can feel the thoughts in my brain growing dimmer as the light gets brighter. This has been happening for months; I never sleep because of it. I take my head in my hands, tears welling up in my eyes, and I let out a hybrid of a laugh and sob.
A smile breaks out on my face, slowly getting wider, until my cheeks start to burn. I feel my arm reach over for my nightstand, pulling open the bottom drawer. Rummaging around in it for a few moments, it finds what it wants, and brings it up for my eyes to see.
Now, I’m cackling. My hoarse laughs keep getting louder and louder as I stare at the infernal object in my hand. The object that has caused so many others pain, suffering, and a means of escaping. I run my thumb over one of the serrated points, gradually pulling it closer to its final home.
Squeezing the handle tightly, I let out a loud cackle as my bedroom door opens. My parents are standing there, eyes wide in horror, as I shove the knife into its new, warm sheath.