Tara was a quiet little girl with pigtails and braces. Her parents hoped that relocating to a new town would make her happier at school, but she preferred the isolation of her bedroom. Eventually, she began talking to an imaginary friend named Teddy. Tara did everything with him, from building block towers to hosting miniature tea parties. Her mother worried the attachment wasn't healthy, but her father dismissed it as a phase she would outgrow once she made real friends. Yet, the worry lingered; Tara only ever seemed happy when she was doing something with her friend, having long conversations where her mother could hear only Tara speaking.
By the age of 12, the braces were gone, and Tara’s hair fell loose and pretty over her shoulders. She was a very pretty girl, and there were many kids who wanted to be her friend, but Teddy was always there inside her head. He constantly told her that she did not need them, and that the only friend who would ever be there for her was him. Every time she tried to speak to others, Teddy was there to remind her of how long they had been together, warning her that real people would only abandon and hurt her. Because of this, she spent her lunches alone at a table. When kids invited her to parties or tried to include her in school activities, she found ways to disappear or made up excuses that she was needed at home.
This isolation continued throughout high school. The girls and most of the boys avoided trying to talk to her entirely. But when she was 18, one boy decided to be brave and take a chance. He bought her a flower and waited for her after school one day. He asked her to go to a movie with him, and despite the voices from Teddy reminding her she didn't need to go, Tara decided to go anyway and try to have a good time.
The date was a disaster. During the movie, her drink mysteriously spilled all over the boy. Then, the popcorn tasted sickeningly salty, causing him to choke on a piece. He found chewing gum tangled in his hair and a sharp tear in his jeans. It seemed no matter what he tried to do, something went wrong. Finally, he told Tara that as much as he liked her, there was something about the situation that just wasn't quite right. He left her standing there, confused and crying. Tara went home in a fury. She knew, deep down, that Teddy was more than just a friend she had made up when she was lonely. He was taking over her life and preventing her from being normal. Her days started to feel darker and more depressing. A suffocating loneliness filled the air because the once-innocent childhood friend was now smothering her. She realized the problem was her childhood room, where most of these memories took place. It was time to move out and find a place of her own.
By the time she was 21, Tara had finally had enough of the tiny world she was forced to live in. She found an apartment in town near the college she was going to attend, confident that a fresh start was the right move. She began to pack her boxes. As the suitcases piled up, the air in the room grew strangely thin and cold, dropping steadily until the empty space felt like the inside of a walk-in freezer. Taking one last look around, she spoke out loud to the empty corners: “I am leaving, Teddy. You can’t come with me. You do not control my life anymore.”
She moved the last of her things to her car and slammed the trunk shut. Telling herself not to look back, the temptation proved too strong. Tara glanced up at her old bedroom window—and froze. A distinct shadow was standing behind the glass, slowly waving down at her. Disturbed to actually see a physical figure in the window, she trembled. She gripped the steering wheel, pulled out of the driveway, and sped off. Perhaps now she could finally have a life and be free of the "friend" who had apparently stayed behind.
She felt lighter as she pulled up to the front of her apartment building, humming to herself as she got out and carried the first box up the stairs and opened the door to her new place. The smell of fresh paint hung in the air as she set it down in the doorway, keeping the door propped open so she could bring up the rest of her stuff bit by bit. Once everything was inside, she sat on the floor amongst the boxes and ordered a pizza and a bottle of wine so she could celebrate moving forward. She wondered briefly what had happened to the friend she left behind, hoping that whatever it was, it would eventually move on and find someone else to attach to.
The first week in the apartment was entirely peaceful. She took her time arranging the furniture. She had to order a new bed and dresser for the bedroom, so while she waited for them to arrive, she took a trip to a local thrift store, buying a table, chairs, cookware, and a few other knick-knacks to make the place feel like it was completely hers. Her next stop was a department store, where she picked up fresh bedding, towels, and bathroom essentials—deeply content that she had finally made decisions on her own, without any voices in her head.
She danced around excitedly that Saturday when the buzzer finally rang, signaling that her new bed and dresser were being delivered. The delivery men were thorough and patient as she changed her mind several times about where she wanted the bed to go, and she apologized and offered them an extra tip for their time. Pulling out her new bedding, she ripped the plastic off the mattress and slipped on the clean sheets, finally placing the comforter on top with the new pillows. She unzipped her suitcases on the mattress, pulling out her neatly folded clothes and organizing them into the dresser drawers. Finally, she hung up a curtain on the window and stood back smiling. It looked so cozy and quaint. She placed the book she had started reading on the nightstand right next to the small lamp she had brought with her.
That night, Tara crawled under the covers, flicking on the light before she picked up her book. She continued reading where she had left off, finally feeling free as she read for a couple of hours. It was getting late and she was feeling exhausted, so she set the book down and reached over to turn off the light.
The click of the switch plunged the room into complete darkness. The shadows felt comforting as she pulled the blanket up to her chin and began to close her eyes.
That is when she heard it. A very familiar voice—but this time, it was no longer just a thought inside her head. It whispered softly, directly into her ear:
"I love the new bedroom."
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