The Haunted_Edit Copy 4-7-17

“He lives in my closet. He doesn’t come out when anyone
else is around. Mostly at night, when I’m trying to sleep. He
whispers things to me.” Timmy rested his elbow on the table and
pressed his forehead against his palm.
“What does he say?” Susannah pressed gently.
“He says my name. He asks me to play with him. But one
time I tried and he shut the closet door behind me and growled a lot.
I got really scared, but finally he let me open the door again.” Tears
were actually starting to glaze his eyes. This kid wasn’t kidding.
Either there really was something in his closet, or he was in need of
some serious help.
“We’ve never noticed anything strange,” his mother added.
“His father and I have never heard any voices, in his room or
anywhere else.”
“He doesn’t talk when you’re there.” Timmy glared at her
through eyes with water just barely held back from spilling out onto
his cheeks.
“How long has this been going on?” I asked, glancing from
one to the other.
“He started telling us about it maybe three months ago,” Mrs.
Johansson said. “We didn’t think much of it. Maybe a boy’s
imagination, you know? But he seems so frightened ...”
“But it’s been happening for longer. Almost a year. At first
I thought it was cool.” His chin dropped onto his chest like he was
ashamed of himself. “But then when I realized he wasn’t nice, I tried
to pretend he wasn’t there. And it didn’t work.”
My lips pressed together tightly as my brain started to smoke
from overworking. I was struggling to keep the fear down and think
logically. Just because the little boy said that it was a demon didn’t
mean it was. It could just be a really nasty spirit. Or it could be, as
his parents seemed to believe, all in his head.
Susannah leaned forward and brushed her long, bleach-fried
hair behind her ear. “I need you to think really hard, Timmy. Was
there anything big that happened in your family or in your house
right around the time that this guy started talking to you?”
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