(I didn't proofread this and the next 2 chapters, so it might be really bad)

I was probably about 6-9 years old at the time.

I had my own room with two beds. One twin sized bed and one kid sized. I refused to sleep on my twin sized one for some reason.

I was always paranoid.

There were strange noises coming from within the hallway behind my door. Sometimes, it sounds like slow jagged footsteps, full knowing the rest of the family are asleep.

Sometimes, there's this huge crashing sound coming from within the hallway closet. But, when we check. There's nothing of sort.

And sometimes, the drawers from the kitchen or some door would open by themselves. No breeze or wind.

By then, I'd always find comfort being in my kid sized Dora bed. But, this particular moment ruined it.

Being in my Dora bed felt off. It was a normal night; the door closed, the closet doors opened, binds covering the moonlight.

I tried ignoring the off put feeling by just keeping my eyes closed. Hoping it would just pass by.

Half asleep, I started to hear whispering of some sort, calling? Or maybe talking?

I didn't want to listen to it. I didn't want to hear it. So, I turned to the other side and covered my ears, trying to block it out.

And It worked... for a second. I suddenly felt something grabbing my arm and yanked it from my ears. I heard screaming, they screamed my name.

I woke up immediately and sat up from my bed, looking around, alarmed.

But no one was there.

(I haven't slept by myself after that till I was probably 11)