Trigger Warning: Mentions of Rape and paranormal hauntings. This causes me massive paranoia. 

I have been acquainted with this house for more than a decade. It doesn't look the same. It needed a lot of work when we first moved in– a hill in the floor that split the living room and the dining area, ugly green and blue carpet that looked like vomit stains before we actually did get sick on them. Our parents didn't get mad when we did. Dad renovated the place to make it more tolerable. Dark brown walls with white outlines, carpet that matches the background, and getting rid of that dang hill on the floor. Our rooms were decorated to personalize who we are. My walls were painted lavender purple, and I had a light brown wooden floor, awards, decorations, and anything that looked like a lilac girl's room. I did have a love-and-hate relationship with this house. I hated it at first due to the change. As someone with autism, I don't like change. I adapted to it over time and became grateful for it.

There was a time in my life when I began hating the house again in eleventh grade. There was another change; the atmosphere shifted into an oppressive and haunted nature. This situation occurred before I was diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder, a Schizophrenia and Bipolar hybrid. I did wish that whatever happened in eleventh grade was just a messed-up schizophrenia flare-up. I am also an Eclectic Pagan– I believe in many Gods, but choose beliefs and philosophies that I see fit. I am not strictly tied to one community, but rather independent. I do accept and respect other spiritual and religious communities. If there's an individual that force feeds their religion down my throat, I tend to avoid going into the religious topic. Schizoaffective Disorder makes it harder to differentiate between a spirit and an actual delusion. I still believe what happened was a paranormal experience. Since I still feel sick and dizzy whenever the name has been brought up, the entity's nickname will be Major Vile or M.V.

High school junior year was the most stressful year for students at B.H.S because most classes have regent exams, a three-hour long exam at the end of the year. If we failed, we risked failing the class, and we had to retake the exam. I was no exception to this rule, but I didn't have to retake any since I'd passed all of them. On top of that, I have been dealing with entities for the past three years now, mainly negative, but I learned to banish them when I had enough. The problem is one gets kicked out and another comes in rent-free. They mostly come after me. I chalked it up as I could see them, there is a portal somewhere, my mental issues, or I'm a magnet. This is also ironic because I am a horror author; I created universes to give my characters hell while the ghosts in this universe are torturing me. My online pagan acquaintances are jealous that I have paranormal experiences while their houses are deserts. I always said, "Be careful what you wish for." I should've listed my experiences in graphic detail.

The first warning sign began in early October 2017. I was on a Skype call with my pagan friends from Telegram, a social media chatting app, around one in the morning. It was M, Dani, Mar, Luc, C, S, and T. We usually chat about general things in life and also beliefs. We never did any rituals during the video chat, but we did meditate. I was quiet because my parents were sleeping. My sister was in the bottom bunk bed below me. She returned home for a mid-term break from S.L.U. My pagan friends tried to get me to talk or whisper, but I didn't want to lose my phone. It was on the weekend too, so sleep didn't matter. I heard loud bangs like someone was pounding on walls with a hammer. I texted and left the call. I investigated. Nothing was out of place. I went back to my top bunk and rejoined the call.

A couple of days later, I was back in my bottom bunk again. It was just me in my room. I was trying to sleep. At the same time as last time, I heard a loud noise again, but I knew where it was coming from– the basement. If I could've heard the noise from the basement in my own room, it was obviously loud. I got off my bed and listened, putting my ear on the floor. I gasped when I heard something metallic clanging against the floor like it was being thrown. I assumed someone was invading our basement; therefore, I ran to my parents' room.

"I hear something banging downstairs," I told them.

My mom and I watched from upstairs while my dad checked the basement. We had to go to the back porch to go into the basement. Our house was on top of a hill, so the basement's outer walls were exposed. Dad found nothing, and we went to bed. He didn't bring in any weapons to defend himself. He was very strong, even with health issues. He could slam someone without any effort. My brother was his target when he challenged my dad in the C. Mall in August 2017 while my mom and I were heading into a store. I heard laughter and turned. I saw my father pushing my brother, who weighed more than him, towards the wall. He didn't mention if something was out of place. He was focused on the invader. I listened to more sounds until I finally slept.

Over the course of October to December, Major Vile eventually climbed from the basement. His target was me. The first warning sign was bad luck happening around me. I am used to seeing misfortune occurring, but the bad luck he was giving me put me into tears. People were less friendly toward me. In a pagan group on Instagram around November 2017, Z took his frustrations out on me. He blew up on me when I mentioned I left a high school college program because of the problems. He thought I couldn't get through "a simple program." I was crying about why he was mean to me, calling me "a crying snowflake." He accused me of spiritually attacking him, which I didn't. He also sent death threats if I came after his girlfriend. Who? The only person that didn't come after me was D, my best friend. My Galaxy S5 broke, my phone at the time. I assumed it was an update that messed it up. The phone crashed and it appeared with a dark screen. My notifications, such as with the flashing lights, didn't work. My dad was furious.

"Can't you do anythin' right?!" he said while slamming the door. He was glaring at me. I didn't say anything.

I gave him my phone. It was doing the same thing. He noticed my light flashing white. "Why is this flashing white?" he asked me.

"I don't know," I shrugged, pretending not to know. It was from Telegram. I set its notification to white because I thought it looked cool.

My brother looked it up. He replies, "Flashing white is a sign of a software issue."

Phewf.

"Looks like you're going back to your old phone," my father informed me. It was another S5. I got it replaced because I dropped it and it had a glitchy green screen, which I didn't figure out until hours later at Pizza Hut that night. I was happy to have a working phone.

The following week after this incident, I felt I was being followed by something tall and menacing. I was in the breakfast line before the first period began. I turned to look, but no one was there, not even a tall student. I thought it would go away when I went to Earth Science class, but no. It didn't go away in the light. I was not alone. I felt it at home as well. I began to have nightmares that woke me up terrified at night; ghoulish nightmares produced by ghosts always scared me the most. It mentally tore me up. I was used to nightmares at this point in life because I have daily nightmares because of my autism. M.V. challenged that. I couldn't sleep; I was terrified to sleep. The darkness made it worse as if thousands of eyes were stalking me.

I messaged D about what was going on. He suggested it was an evil spirit. They can cause misfortune and be attached to someone. Bad mistake. Major Vile was like an abusive ex; he didn't want me to tell anyone about what was going on. The activity got worse. I sometimes saw him as a tall shadow mass when I glimpsed behind me. He looked subtle but dangerous. I was still startled by him. I haven't heard his voice yet. I didn't learn my lesson. Mrs. R, my eleventh-grade English teacher, had a vocabulary word per day. The word was clairvoyance, a psychic sense to see spirits. It was near Halloween. I thought it was a great idea to share some experiences about it with her.

In ninth-period study hall, I was walking back inside the classroom from putting stuff into my locker. Mrs. B, my study hall teacher, was on the phone. She looked at me with worry. "[Ace], you must go to the counseling office," she said as she signed a pass for me.

My counselor, Mrs. S, notified me that Mrs. R got concerned. There were two entities that I brought up in the letter. It was the neutral one and Major Vile. The neutral one was not bad, but could get angry if someone was on their electronics past midnight or cursing up a storm. Major Vile pushed him out. I saw less and less of him. Mrs. S was aware that things would get worse if I try to speak out loud "since he knew English" (What I said in the letter). We conversed on paper. She asked the normal classes like are you scared of being alone and when did it start. My parents were contacted. She left me three options: I would tell them, she would tell them, or we would tell them.

I chose the second option. Another mistake. I have needed practice speaking up since I was a kid. Dad didn't say anything. Mother assumed that it was the same person that did stuff in the basement, but it didn't go any further. No exorcism, no spiritual talk. Later that Saturday, I was washing dishes and home alone. I was listening to tunes, trying to relax. Out of nowhere, my phone crashed on me and had a major glitch episode. The glitches on the screen were like green flashes. My lock screen didn't show up. I couldn't access anything. It was close to being stuck in a forever glitch. I had to press the power button on and off until it finally gave me a lock screen.

Behind me, I heard a popping sound. A hollow item was chucked from the counter behind. When I picked it up, I saw him right before me for the first time. He was a tall shadow, but his pale skin was present. His eyes were hollow. He was dead-staring at me. He was masterminding a plan to punish me for talking about him. It was nothing compared to what I saw later.

February 2018 is when it got all worse. I called this February Hell. My house felt darker than the norm, not physically, but emotionally. The house's aura sucked all of the joy and hope from the atmosphere that even the dust looked blacker than dark mists. My faith in the Gods left me. In my nightmares, I cried for help, but no one was there to help me while Major Vile assaulted me. I felt his painful blows radiate everywhere around my body like seismic waves. I became quiet on my social apps, such as Instagram and Telegram. I didn't trust my friends on Telegram when they did nothing for me. They didn't anything bad to me too. The feeling of mistrust came from nowhere. It was my fault that I was alone.

I grew cold even though I had a blanket wrapped around me constantly. I wasn't cold from the winter; I felt ice growing inside my chest, cold inside me. I couldn't shower without seeing that shadow behind me. I kept my eyes away from the shower head, not looking at the reflections from the faucet. The heat couldn't relieve the coldness that I felt. I felt no fear but was doomed to M.V. It was a depletion of hope. When you feel hopeless, you doubt and cry, you know the tears won't save you. You feel there is no end to this suffering. Jokes didn't help with pressure. No jokes came to mind. I always had a side of my mind telling me not to give up, but it was gone. He didn't attack me in the shower. He must've enjoyed invading my privacy, seeing me turning into a gray ilk. How would you endure the feeling of being watched while you are naked like an animal at the zoo?

I tried to make peace with him, but it didn't work. I heard him talking to me.

"You can't escape."

"You must become one of us." It was deep and sadistic. One of us? What did he mean by that?

As much as I wanted to leave the house, I couldn't. I hated it with the ever-growing feeling, but something told me to stay there. It didn't sound nice. It wanted to keep doing this route. School didn't matter. Parents brushed me off. Their argument also pitched up, but I stayed out of it. I couldn't speak up unlike earlier. He drained my faith in getting help and warned me that things would worsen if I dared say anything.

L, another person from the pagan friend group on Instagram. She was added later on, so she didn't know what happened between Z and I in November. She texted me.

L: hey you okay

Me: Yeah. Why?

L: your aura feels off

I lied because I am used to hiding my emotions at this point. I've been brushed off and turned into another outcast. Nothing new in this damn life. My mindset became I'm silenced. Your opinions don't matter. I don't matter. If I die, nothing will change 'cause I'm already nothing. You don't belong here.

February Break didn't feel like a break at all, being at home was a vacation of death for me. Major Vile became physical. He exploited my fear of vomiting in my nightmares, but also of assault and rape. That crept into my real life. He did it every night. My cat hadn't been in my room for months. I was scared to fall asleep. He didn't paralyze me before raping me in my bed. He was strong enough to keep me too weak to fight back. I took it. There was no enjoyment, just pain and fright. The thought of my virginity being tarnished by an impure essence was just as damaging as I continue to lie that I am still a virgin. Does it count? He was not a physical being but became physical. I couldn't leave his grasp. Night was a dreaded place. The loud bangs returned again, but it was near me. I tried to listen to music to ignore Major Vile while rocking in the blue chair. I saw him come out of the wall right in front of me. His shadow was monstrous and beast-like. I had a panic attack right there.

He kept this up for a while. D noticed I had changed too. He texted me on Instagram.

D: You changed yourself.

Me: ...

D: Well?

I refused to answer. Later that night, something within me snapped. I started talking to D in Spanish from Google Translate. My courageous mind kicked into overdrive after shutting down on the days I needed it. Was it because I burned so many bridges with my peers? Did it know what would happen if I didn't? D knew Spanish. He got enraged.

D: What?! Who raped you?!

The translation could get inaccurate even when I checked it several times.

Me: A ghost is doing this.

D: You can't keep this going! Exile it now, love!

D was also my ex, but he shouldn't be called that. He is worth more than that. He remained my best friend after we broke up. He still loves me in a different way.

I took his word for it. My courage returned angry, stronger than the entity himself. I used a banishment ritual that got rid of my first entity– Mantra (Vibrations), smudge, salt, and happy emotions. No sacrifices were needed. Not every pagan ritual uses sacrifices. Most pagans prefer to use planetary herbs, instead of carving a knife into a poor animal or person. Murderous rituals drive more entities in, not out. I believed that gods prefer food, sweets, aroma, and a certain type of energy rather than blood. I used a mantra and said his name backwards, telling him "no more". He could go screw off. That night, he didn't rape me, nor the following night after. The house felt breathable and bright. That is the usual sign that the negativity has been lifted. He was gone. He didn't retreat back into the basement. I didn't feel him anywhere.

It took me a long time to feel safe in my home again. I can't sleep unless there is some light in the room with me. It may not scare all the spirits away, but the light makes me feel better. I still have nightmares to this very day of Major Vile reclaiming me, kidnapping me, and torturing me all over again. It hasn't happened yet and I will make sure of that. It still feels unnerving if I feel someone behind me. The only people that I told about were my friends who were pagans. I finally told my therapist right before the Fall 2022 semester began. February Hell is still hidden from my family. For those who have these experiences, don't bottle it up, ignore the skeptics. It's not a great feeling to be alone. Don't give these parasitic entities the satisfaction of emptiness and fear. It ruins your life and yourself. What could have happened if I didn't snap that night? I think the question should remain unanswered.

He took my home and nearly me, but I took it back.