I know, it's stupid - to fear something that isn't real. On some level I knew it was deeper than that. Somewhere, buried deep inside my core, silently eating away at my sanity, I knew there was more.

I felt them whispering into my ear as I slept, cursing my dreams into nightmares. I felt them as I left the house, the wind creeping down my spine and the harsh shiver reminding me of darker, unspeakable days. I felt them shouting lies that that cut like a knife as I weeped, begging for the voices to cease.

"Caleb," I heard the nurse call, "you need to take your medicine, honey."

There was nothing but soft material covering the room. The delicate padding was a blinding shade of white that made my eyes hurt and there was no furniture decorating it. It was all blank. It was all empty.

I noticed her labored breathing as she stared at me, the way she never held eye contact with me for long, the way her eyes held fear swirling within them. She was afraid of me.

"Don't listen to her," a voice snarled, "it's poison. She's trying to hurt you. Don't listen."

You see, these demons followed me everywhere I went. Every night, every day, every second. In some ways they were helpful. They guided me where to go, who to listen to, they sensed liars. Though other times they broke me down piece by piece, stripping me of my pride and filling my body with crippling paranoia.

The woman sighed impatiently. "You know I'm going to have to call them if you resist."

Rage sprouted in my chest, the voices screaming in my ears. They told me to stop her and refuse. To break out of the padded room I was trapped in. They told me to kill.

Everyone thinks that I'm insane, but I'm not. I'm not crazy.

The nurse shook her head and went to leave the room, muttering profanities under her breath.

"Escape, the door is opening!" a demon roared viciously as I covered my ears with a loud cry. "Now!"

Mustering up my last bit of strength, I scrambled off of the floor and bolted to the door that was about to close. When the nurse saw me she let out a startling shriek and slammed it right as I reached the exit.

"No!" the demon howled, infuriated.

I collapsed onto the ground and covered my ears with my hands to block out the sound, but I couldn't. There was no escape.

From this room or the voices.

You see, there are many types of fear. From spiders to clowns to heights, it ranges far and wide. My demon knew this. He knew every single thing about me. Sometimes he knew things about me that I didn't even know.

Right now he was angry. Bad things happened when he was angry.

"Leave this room," he demanded as I felt tears hot welling up in my eyes.

"I can't!" The scream that crawled up my throat was a sound I'd never heard before. It sounded so broken that it was unrecognizable. An agonizing cry for relief.

I cried harder, knowing that the nurses and staff were watching me through the security cameras. I could feel them judging me and the feeling was revolting. I could almost hear their snickering and mockery, the way their heads would roll back while laughter poured from their mouths like venom.

I knew the anger inside the demon was boiling up so much that it was about to explode. Hearing the sound of footsteps outside the door broke me from my episode, at least that's what they liked to call it. The people who think I'm crazy.

I'm not crazy.

"Please, stop!" I wailed as three men barged into the room, "I'm sorry! It's not my fault, it was- it was h-" Freezing hands grabbed my arms as I thrashed around, begging them to stop.

"Kill them!" The demon tore through and fought out of their hold.

I could barely process what was going on as my body moved on it's own accord. He flailed around, hitting, biting, kicking, anything he could to get away. Anything to escape.

I felt a painful prick on my forearm and felt dizziness consume me. My body went limp in their cold arms as I stilled. I tried to plead for them to keep me awake, the voices were the worst when I was asleep, but as spots took over my vision I knew I was done for.

Every time I slept, the demons liked to go through my list of fears. I had plenty to choose from. As I slipped into unconsciousness, my eyelids drooping closed with my head tilted back, I felt a nightmare arising.

Beads of sweat ran down my face as I rubbed my clammy palms against my jeans. I watched
Mason from across the crowded hallway, admiring everything from his tousled hair to his scuffed up sneakers. Just the thought of looking in his direction made my stomach churn while my knees grew weak.

I wouldn't blame a passing person to chuckle. I wouldn't blame scowling faces when they heard that this is something I fear. I wouldn't blame anyone for thinking anything because it was ridiculous. So why did I fear it anyway?

He was someone that made me feel queasy, but I liked it. I liked the way he made me nervous without trying. The demons didn't. They didn't like feeling anything other than terrorizing power.

I had practiced this moment so many times. I worked up the courage every day to just talk to him, but as my hands started to shake and my breathing sped up, I turned around and left.

The demons began to laugh at me, saying how pathetic I was. Picking on every one of my insecurities. The thing about rejection was that it was different from normal fear. This fear had to deal with something deeper. It had to due with love. It's funny, really. The mixture of love and fear. The dictionary definition of love was all I could really understand, but I know that it meant more than that. It had to.

Part of love is fear, and that's the good kind, right?

I felt the humiliation of not even being able to try prod at my already dangerously low ego. I sulked down the hallway with my hands shoved in my pockets with a head hanging low.

Why couldn't I just be good enough? Why was my cowardice all that my pathetic life revolved around? I felt myself start hyperventilating as so many degrading thoughts sank into my skin like wildfire, burning up into searing welts. I heard muffled snickering from the monsters as I fell apart. Out of every kind of fear, I think that this one had to be my worst. I was afraid of my own mind this time, not the demons. This was all me.

My lungs suddenly craved oxygen as I struggled to breathe in and out. My hands were trembling, my bottom lip was quivering, my heart beating rapidly. The sound of it thumping soon became the only sound audible.

Right as I began to calm down I heard rushing water. I was broken from my thoughts as my shoes became drenched. My eyes widened as the liquid came rushing through every entrance I could see.

"Stop it!" I sobbed, whimpering when I heard one of the demons growl in response.

My feet were splashing in the water as I tried to run but it was coming in too fast. From my toes to my chest was submerged in the murky water in just seconds.

"Why are you doing this?" I swam to the top as the space left decreased hurriedly. "I didn't do anything to deserve this!"

The pool covered my face and reached the ceiling. There was nowhere else to go.

I felt water seep into my lungs as I was forced to inhale it. Halfway through struggling, desperate to find any escape, I wondered what I was even doing this for. I stopped moving. I stopped resisting. I stopped trying.

"Why did he stop?" a demon asked in bewilderment, but I didn't think he was talking to me.

I smiled underneath the depths of the cold water nipping at my skin because I did know.

In my head, I was staring at my tombstone. My name was written on it in cursive with today's date. Today is the day I'd die.

"He isn't afraid..." another replied, confused.

The sound of my grave being dug became louder and louder. I could smell the damp soil and feel the freezing air. The cemetery would be quiet and peaceful, the demons forever banished from my buzzing mind. They found the one thing I wasn't afraid of. So as I felt myself slipping into death I was full of relief. I could finally escape this agony. All I could feel in that moment was pure bliss.

Until I felt hands on my shoulders, shaking me so that I'd wake.

"Caleb?" she croaked with a cautious look on her face.

My eyes peeled open as I stared at the nurse. I barely noticed that she'd touched me or that tears were threatening to pour down her pale, tired face. For some reason, I felt pure rage, sadness, disappointment.

Like I said, there are several types of fear. Everyone feels them in different ways. Some people turn their fear into strength, others cower away and bear their necks in defeat. It's hard for me to comprehend most emotions since I never knew who to believe or trust. I couldn't think or act on my own wishes because what did I even want? What did I even believe? I didn't know. I doubted I'd ever know.

"You want to kill!" the demon growled, his voice lingering with venom, "you want to get out of here and torture all of those who have wronged us!"

He sent flashes of people he thought had betrayed me through my mind before I could even try to protest. My parents, the men, Mason— that one hurt the most.

The demon forced me to think about Mason's lifeless eyes as I shoved a knife into his abdomen, he made me imagine the blood he would cough up as he called out for help, how the rhythm of Mason's steady heartbeat would subside against my hovering palm, the utter mortification displayed across his handsome features as he watched.

The thought of killing the rest felt oddly... satisfying? My mother's skull would be split open with my father being forced to watch before daggers sliced through his eye sockets. The cries of the men would echo through the room as I held them down and rejoiced in their fear. They would then comprehend the torture they forced upon me, they'd feel it too. Their bones would crunch under my toes as I snapped each ligament in half, an endless amount of blood would stain the white padded walls and their bruised flesh would squish under my grasp.

The demon was right, they all had wronged me. Was I a killer, or the demon? I could almost smell their blood, taste the copper, feel the rotting flesh, hear their sickening pleas for death. Yet I couldn't do that, right? They didn't deserve death, but not for the reason one would think. Death isn't the worst thing that could happen to someone, sometimes death can be a gift.

I wouldn't have to face the men who would hold me down at night when I wasn't being "compliant". I'd never have to weep at the thought of my parents leaving me here to succumb to their torment again. I'd never have to cover my ears and scream when the demons became too much. I wouldn't have to be part of such a broken system where I was unloved and left alone to die... no, I was left alone to live.

Maybe I really was as crazy as they all said, because death no longer seemed scary. I'd found the greatest fear of all - living.