In Your Head

"Y-you sure this is a good idea?" My hand shakes as I hold the torch, fiddling with the on button. I shift nervously on my boyfriend's bed, butterflies in my stomach.

"Don't be such a wuss, Cam. It's an old cement factory, not someone's home. Come on, I thought your New Year's resolution was to be braver?" Tim says, annoyed. He packs both our adventure knapsacks, full of batteries for the camcorders and flashlights, a few granola bars, and a sleeping bag for us to share (despite my protests).

Aggravation rises in my chest. What's the point of voicing my concern if he won't listen? I open my mouth to try to tell him so but he leans over and engulfs my mouth in a sloppy kiss. Sick rises into my throat and I snap my lips shut and pull away, getting up off the bed and examining my bag.

"Babe," he growls, I turn and force a smile.

"What? I uhm, I just remembered I needed to grab waters!" I busy myself with his mini-fridge, trying to stay away from him, from his lips, from his advancements. Every time we've kissed, I've felt nothing except a dislike of it. Kissing him feels- wrong- in a way. Every time he kisses me I force myself to reciprocate because that's what girlfriends do. We kiss back, we show our affection. We kiss back, that is what the books and movies and couples at school say, so it's what I do. "Let's go before it gets too dark!" I say, acting happy about this trip with him.

It's all in your head.

He reluctantly nods, looking out the window. We grab the bags and leave the small apartment, getting into his truck. As we drive away from the apartment, I breathe a sigh of relief, but a fresh flood of panic hits. I don't want to be alone with him for the night, especially ten miles from civilization in a potentially haunted cement factory.

You're just being dramatic, I tell myself, he's fine. Mom and Dad love him, your friends faun over him, he's fine. It's all you.

It's all in your head.

I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth, trying to settle my frantic heartbeat. Maybe I should throw up, and he'd be forced to take me home? Don't you dare, he'll kill you.

Looking down at my lap, I fiddle with my fingers. I hate when he gets mad, cause it's always something I did. It is, though, more often than not. I started my period the night he wanted to get frisky, my car broke down the day of his Frat's party. He only gets mad when you do things to upset him.

But I never mean to.

We arrive quicker than I anticipated, and my hopes of home dissipate as I see the towers of the factory standing tall and watching above the trees. He whips into the driveway and throws the truck into park.

"Come on, baby let's get inside!" He grins, eagerly jumping out of the truck. Swallowing hard, I shoulder my bag and step out of the truck.

The factory looms before me, its huge cement walls stained dark from rust and weathering. Its windows, long since shattered, stare down at me, their darkness threatening to consume me whole. The large door half hangs off its hinges, and ivy hugs the remains of the door.

I stand transfixed, staring at its dark majesty, and would have been content to do so for the rest of my life if Tim hadn't yanked me by my arm.

I jolt back but am unable to escape his grasp. "Come on, let's go inside instead of gaping at the height of it. You know you're short, you don't need to act so surprised when things are taller than you."

A twinge of pain strikes my heart. He knows I'm self-conscious of my 5'0 height, but yet he feels the need to bring it up.

I stay quiet, not wanting to annoy him further.

We venture into the old factory, photographing the graffiti-covered walls and piles of rubble. After a while, we stop for a snack and pee break. I head back out the front exit to do my business in the dark woods, jumping at the slightest sound. I finish quickly turn to enter the building but I freeze. As the sun sets, the old building's shadows stretch longer and darker than when we arrived. The windows are so dark someone could be standing in them and I wouldn't be able to tell. The doorway is just a black pit, all color ending at the edges of the walls.

I debate on staying in the truck, but I quickly push that thought from my head. Tim would hate me for chickening out.

Wringing my hands, I flip on my torch and dash through, running back to the room I had left him in, but he's not there.

"Tim?!" I whisper yell, frantic and scared. I cast the light about the room, seeing nothing but terrifying shadows and messy pentacles painted on the walls. "Tim!" I'm about to cry, my heart is in my throat.

Suddenly, the air shifts, and I feel someone behind me. "Tim?" I squeak, my eyes blurring and my heartbeat humming in my chest. Nothing responds. The silence in the room screams in my ears, only broken by a slight rustle of fabric behind me. Slowly I turn, and I scream.

There stands Tim, mouth in a slack-jawed grin, his eyes unfocused and rolled to the side. His eyelids droop, twitching occasionally. His head is about an inch off his shoulder and his jaw pointed away from me. He doesn't stir at my scream, instead, he grins wider. His left arm is hidden behind his back, and frantic to run, I glance to the exit.

"Darllling Clarisssse, why won't you kissss me?" He slurs his words, his head slowly rising to sit upright.

"I-I do, Tim," I whisper, keeping my torch focused on him. He jerks his head side to side in response.

His eyes slowly roll to look at me, his eyelids pulling away and his eyeballs slightly pop out of his face.

"I wisssssh you would kisssss me, Clarissssse. Wouldn't that be ssssswell?" His foot slides a couple inches towards me, and he lurches forward slightly. I fall two steps back from him, closer and closer into the corner of the room. He's positioned his body to block the exit.

"I wissssh you would lay with me, Clarissse, I wisssssh you would let me k-" He stops his slow gait towards me, twisting his head to the side as if listening to something.

"I wissssh you would let me k-kill you," His voice comes as a gutteral hiss. He slowly reveals his hand he had hidden behind his back to reveal a long, rusted knife.

He bolts towards me, but I duck under his arm and run out of the room, closely followed by his pounding footsteps. He moves to run in front of me, successfully blocking the way out. I take a sharp right and run deeper into the factory, into the darkness.