***
The Am I Gay Quiz glared up at me from my laptop screen, the only source of light in my dark bedroom. It was nearing midnight, and despite having an English exam the following morning, I could not bring myself to sleep or study.
The quiz waited with question one staring at me expectantly, my fingers hovering over the mouse. I was nervous, as though my answers would determine my entire future.
The first question was already a difficult one:Are you physically attracted to a person of the same sex?I hadn’t really experienced any kind of physical attraction, so I selected unsure.
The second question asked if I’d ever wanted to kiss someone of the same gender. I selected no, not interested.
Alexander’s lips crossed my vision, calling me a liar. Did I want to kiss him? No. He was an asshole. And when I looked at his lips, it wasn’t with sexual desire. It was…different. He was beautiful in a way I wanted to capture with a paint brush. You could think someone beautiful without wanting to have sex with them. Mountains were beautiful, but you wouldn’t kiss them.
I continued through the questions, pausing atHas anyone ever asked you if you were gay?I reluctantly selected yes.
I answered the remaining questions and waited, anxiously, as a loading screen prepared my results.
In the centre of the screen, it said,You may be bisexual or on the LGBTQ+ spectrum.
I immediately closed my laptop and reached for my phone. Without even thinking, I messaged Ava and asked: ‘How did you know you liked girls?’
Three dots appeared immediately, indicating Ava was awake and typing up a response. ‘You okay?’ she wrote.
I sighed and left her on read, rolling over to bury my face in my pillow. I didn't want to think about it. I was just confused. There were more important things to worry about, like exams.
Sleep eventually lured me into a nightmare-fuelled slumber, one without my mother and without any flames. But the Devil remained, as always, hiding in the shadows.
In the dream, I emerged from my bedroom and stepped out into the hallway, pausing as I recognised the familiar mold-covered walls of the House on North Lane.
Cobwebs decorated the ceiling, the pale glow of a lantern illuminating the blood stains on the floor.
On the other end of the hallway, a small boy sat on the edge of a mattress that seemed to disappear into the wall. His body was facing sideways; head completely turned the other way. His brown curls were the only feature I could make out in the darkness.
As soon as I stepped forward, I was once more inside my bedroom. Confused, I reemerged out into the hallway and the boy was still there, though this time his head had turned slightly, his pale ear and jawline now visible.
I stepped forward and returned to the bedroom once more.
Shaking my head, I re-entered the hallway, the boy’s head now facing the same direction as his body, the whole left side of his face now visible. He looked a bit like Auden, but the curls were all mine.
“Hello?” I called out.
The boy did not turn. I stepped forward and immediately returned to the bedroom.
Frustrated, I burst from the door and once inside the hallway, glanced toward the boy. His head had turned more in my direction, the curve of his lips drawing attention to the blood dripping down his chin. A single curl fell over his left eye, shielding it from view, though I could have sworn I saw something crawl out from it.
This time, I made sure to remain perfectly still.
One step and I would be back in my bedroom.
“Hello?” I called out again.
There was no response. No sound, other than the gentle pitter patter of rain falling on the roof.
The boy was draped in shadow, expression hidden. I risked a step forward and was immediately punished. Taking a deep breath, I opened my bedroom door and calmly stepped out into the hallway once more.
This time, the boy was facing me, his entire, terrible face illuminated by the light.
Spidery veins crawled up his pale neck and over his cheeks, curving around his eyeless sockets. Dark blood spilled from his mouth and nose, a crimson tide barrelling toward me. I backed away, but with each retreating step, the closer I seemed to get.
The boy’s lips parted slowly; a dirt covered vine protruding from his mouth, slithering toward me like a snake. It found my ankle, cold and damp, crawling higher as a piercing wail erupted from the boy. It shook the room, fungi growing from the boy’s rotting flesh as the vines pulled me closer and closer. The boy reached out a hand and–
