The Possession of Camille Parker

She awoke this morning and looked into the mirror to see heavy eyeshadow fading into many shades of flat blues, caked and smeared as if she had been wearing it for days & reapplying it without cleaning it off first… she does not wear make up.

Her morning tastes like sewer water though she made it the same way she does every morning. Why?

“Something inside of me,” she thinks, “is tweaking with my brain”  why why why

In rapid succession, her thoughts are racing, a never ending left turn.

“Something is the matter…” She thinks, still drinking her sewage coffee for the caffeine. “I don’t know but I…..I think I’m posessed.”

As soon as she said the words aloud, she knew they were true.
but why? and by whom?

This may warrant taking off a sick day from work but it’s a little hard to explain, no?

“A seemingly demonic force has taken up shop in my head space and I’m questioning not only my existence, but existence overall. Can I come in tomorrow?”

Can’t imagine that’d work out very well. She picks up the coffee pot to pour it out in the sink but instead of flowing out straight down, it pours upwards, leaving a leaking stain on the ceiling.

She blinks and does nothing for a moment. “Okay. Something is either completely fucked with my head or I’m possessed. Either way, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

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