Fear. You know, that thing that turns that small creak in the floorboards into a blood-hungry creature that's going to get you while you slumber? That feeling that won't let you convince yourself that you are alone in the room? That thick fog of suspense and anticipation of the unknown. That is fear.

There was a time when I hated ignorance and the fear that came with it. Now I want it more than anything ….

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, tears running down my cheeks. I was not crying from fear, but sorrow. My mother and her husband had died in a car crash, and now I had the responsibility to take care of her house. Kayla was flying from Washington, Ronnie was flying from Pittsburgh, and Abby would come over in the morning.

Thunder sounded in the distance. I shut my eyes, struggling to repress childhood memories of this place. The banging, scratching, squealing from the basement ….

There was a creak. My eyes popped open. No ….

Lightning illuminated the room. I sat straight up. I looked at the door and its oblivion of taunting darkness. Another creak. I felt my heart speed up. Thunder sounded, making me jump. There was a margin of eerie silence, only interrupted by my jagged breathing. My eyes widened as footsteps sounded downstairs. Clomp, clomp, clomp.

Blood pounded in my ears as I realized that whatever was in this house knew I was back. They were ready to play hardball. The footsteps were accompanied by the sound of dragging. They were out for blood this time. I looked around, realizing I had little time before the presence would reach the stairs and I would be trapped.

Lightning illuminated the room once more, revealing that I was not alone. I screamed as I saw her. She started as an innocent apparition. Everything in this house did. The first time I had seen her, she smiled the sweetest smile. She looked almost luminous. Over time, she became more melancholy, jaded. One time I saw her, she had a scratch on her face. Another time, she wasn't smiling, but staring with a menacing grin. The last time I saw her, her hair was black, instead of her usual auburn beauty, and her eyes were blood red. That was six years ago. I would give anything for that now.

Now her skin was a sickly green, and flaking, revealing an ugly black underneath. Her eyes were electric yellow, with red pupils staring into my soul. She crouched on the ground, ready to spring. Her hair hung in long strips, like black seaweed.

I closed my eye. “Go away!” I shouted. I felt a gust of air.

“Wouldn't you like that?” she whispered right in my ear. I screamed at the top of my lungs. There was an almost harmonious nature to the sounds of my screaming, the thunder, and the deranged cackling of my once beautiful friend.

I ran out the door into the darkness, seeking refuge in its disorienting nature. But these were creatures of the darkness. An invisible force entangled me in its embrace. “Let me go!” I cried. This is it, I thought. I'm going to die.

Something wrapped around my neck, cutting off my oxygen. “I knew I would get you,” said a voice in my head. Oh God, not this … this is how he did it before. Nearly making me go insane. “Open your eyes, Heather. I want to see the light in them die.”

I opened my eyes and peered into the black orbs of Satan himself. I let out a bellowing scream into the ­beautiful sun of the day.