Unseen, Unheard
Trigger Warning: This story contains themes of sexual assault, trauma, and psychological horror. Reader discretion is advised.
[Intro]
“Unseen, Unheard” is a psychological horror story that explores the haunting and often invisible trauma of sexual assault. Told through the journal entries of Sam, a young woman struggling with the aftermath of an assault and the supernatural forces that seem to follow her, this story weaves together the horrors of both real and imagined threats. It’s a journey into a mind trying to find peace, yet plagued by the shadows of the past.
Journal Entry 1
Date: January 15, 2014
I don’t know how to write this. I don’t know if this is even real. But I can’t get it out of my head.
It happened right after winter break, at the party at Scotty G’s house. I had felt safe there—everyone was laughing, music blasting, a familiar crowd of frat boys. He had always been so kind to me, joking around like we were friends. But that night? That night was different. I was laying on the couch, just resting my eyes. The world was fading in and out. Maybe I had too much to drink? Or maybe I didn’t drink enough?
And then I felt it. His hand. No. His finger. It slid in, without warning. I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to make it real.
Journal Entry 2
Date: January 18, 2014
It’s like there’s a shadow following me everywhere. It’s not just in my head anymore.
I can’t look at Scotty G without seeing his smile, his grin, as if nothing happened. He still thinks we’re friends. He still invites me to hang out. He doesn’t know that I can’t stand being near him. I can’t look at his face without remembering the way he touched me when I wasn’t even awake.
I should’ve screamed. I should’ve fought back. Why didn’t I?
Journal Entry 3
Date: February 2, 2014
I keep hearing whispers. I don’t know where they’re coming from.
It’s like the walls are alive, like they know what happened. Every time I pass by them, I hear my name—soft, like a wind blowing through the trees. But no one else hears it. No one else knows.
The worst part is, I can’t get away from it. I feel like I’m suffocating. He’s everywhere. And it’s not just him anymore. It’s something darker, something older. The house, the room, the air—it all feels wrong.
Journal Entry 4
Date: March 1, 2014
I’ve stopped going to parties. I’ve stopped seeing people. The whispers are getting louder.
It’s like there’s something in the house now. At night, I hear it. Something scratching at the walls. It’s not Scotty G anymore. It’s… something else. Something angry.
I can’t sleep. I can’t think. And when I try, the darkness swallows me whole.
Journal Entry 5
Date: March 15, 2014
I don’t know who I am anymore.
I don’t know if what I’m seeing is real.
The house—the one I thought was my refuge—is now full of shadows. Figures I can’t make out. No one else can see them.
I keep hearing it. That voice. It’s him. I know it is. It calls me by name, softly at first, then louder. It’s as though he’s calling me to him, beckoning me to return. But I won’t. I can’t.
Journal Entry 6
Date: April 2, 2014
I saw him again. Scotty G. He smiled at me. I almost ran, but then I heard it. The whispers, louder than ever, telling me I had to stay, I had to face him.
I don’t know what to do. Every part of me wants to run, but I can’t seem to move.
The shadows are growing. The whispers are becoming screams.
I’m starting to think that maybe I’ll never be free of this. Maybe I’ll always be trapped here. In this house. With him.
Journal Entry 7
Date: March 18, 2024 (10 years later)
I’ve been hearing the whispers again. But this time, they’re different.
I don’t know if it’s the house, or the city, or just me, but I can feel it closing in.
I think he’s here. I think Scotty G is here, still with me. I still don’t know why he did it, why he took that piece of me, but now I’m realizing—maybe I wasn’t supposed to know. Maybe this was always going to happen.
I can’t escape the feeling that I’m already dead. That I’m just going through the motions, waiting to disappear completely.
Journal Entry 8
Date: March 22, 2024
I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.
The shadows are so much worse now. I feel them pressing against me when I walk, hear them creeping when I lie in bed at night. They’re not just whispers anymore—they’re… screams.
I’m afraid I’ll never leave this place.
And what scares me the most? I think I’ve stopped caring.
Final Journal Entry
Date: March 23, 2024
I can feel it, right behind me, getting closer. The whispers, the shadows—they’re all around me. I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.
The truth is, I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to keep fighting. I think I’ve decided.
There’s only one way to make it stop. Only one way to escape.
And I’m almost ready to do it.
[End of Story]
Closing Thoughts
This story is deeply personal and not an easy one to share. It’s meant to shed light on the lingering effects of trauma, and how it can follow you in ways that others can’t see. If you or someone you know has experienced something similar, please reach out. You don’t have to go through it alone.