ＴＲＩＧＧＥＲ ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧ - HORROR, MENTAL ILLNESS, PARANORMAL ACTIVITY, MURDER/DEATH

I took a deep breath, clicking the soft button of my flashlight, allowing it to cast a bright light on the endless stairs in front of me. I could feel my heart jumping out of my chest, my stomach twisting in an endless plot of knots. A small bead of sweat dripped down my forehead. Inhaling deeply one more time before cautiously creeping down the creaky old steps of the basement that had taken my friends.

One by one, they all disappeared every one of their accomplishments, was wasted. Everything they ever owned was gone. It wasn't as simple as them dying... They never existed once they stepped foot in this damned basement. The basement that put me in my straight-jacket, that got me on these loopy meds, that stripped my family, my entire fucking life away from me. Everyone told me not to come back, that it'd cause me to relapse. To believe all of the craziness I had 'once' believed. The difference is, it was never a lie. No matter what fancy labels they placed on me.

Deep inside I knew that I was meant to be with them.

'Everyone tells me it's 'survivor's guilt' and that I just need to grow and learn, and maybe even heal. They lie. Everybody fucking lies. If that was true, I would be better five years later. I wouldn't imagine the night they took my friends from me. I wouldn't live it in my head everyday. I was meant to be with them. I am meant to be with them. I am one of them! I reached the ground level of the basement, taking in scent, running my hands against the jacked walls. Taking a deep breath and realizing it, feeling myself be drowned in every memory I had with them deep in that basement. I sat on my knees, putting my flashlight down.

"Come fucking get me! Come get me, please! Please, please, please.. I need to be with them! I hear them every day! COME GET ME!" I cried like that for hours, and hours and hours..

Until, they got me.

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"Breaking news, suicidal 25 year old caught commits in church basement."

"This is one hell of a crime scene.." I looked around the basement, even as a detective of ten

years, this was one hell of a lot to unpack.

There was blood covering the entire basement, from the first few splashes on the stairs to the deeply stained dark-almost black blood setting into the basement floor. Body parts, all over. A deprecated head, placed at the end of the stares, eyes gouged out, blood pooling into the tons of it on the ground, the neck cut from the head in a zig-zag design. The mouth was still wide open as if she had been screaming for hours before she slit her head off. Half of her hair was bald, a few deep scratches on her head, almost to her fucking brain. At the sight of it, I almost gagged, one of the poor mentally-ill women's fingers placed at each corner of the deep basement.

Chalk written all over the walls of the basement.

"Set me free, come get me! I am yours!!" It seemed to be some sort of chant.Her body was left even worse. She had slit her arms to the maxim, burned herself, bruised herself black and blue. It was a horrid sight for everyone. And all to think, she did this because she couldn't separate her mental illness from reality.

"What a shame, don't you think Dav.." I turned around, I-I really thought he was real?..

"Who are you talking to Steph?" My fellow co-worker asked with a big smile on his face, how odd.

"Davison?" A chuckle sounded from deep within my coworker, James to be specific.

"Who the fuck is that?"

".."

"What?.."

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"Ma'am, I'm not fucking crazy! He's real, he's real I promise! Please, please.." I fell to my knees. I cannot be crazy, Davis was and always had been real. I swear..

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"Breaking news! Another suicide in the basement of Honour Church, on the anniversary of Anna Deathbrokes. Tune in at 5:00 for the full scoop."