I'm Being Haunted

This might be a bit of a long story, but I feel like I should share it. I'm not sure what's going to happen to me, but I want people to know the truth. So here goes.

One of my earliest memories is of a mysterious figure standing by my bed in the middle of the night. I lived with my grandparents, my aunt right across the hall from me on the second story. It was the first house I can remember living in, and we were only there until I was 4. I often had bad dreams as a child, and would wake up to my aunt shaking me and trying to get me to stop screaming. She also would wake me up and say I had been laughing in my sleep.

Anyway, on this particular night I recall waking up and seeing a figure standing there. Now, the shape looked just like my aunt, and seemed to be holding my pillow. I laughed at first, and asked her to give it back. She just stood there. That's when I noticed something was wrong. For a moment I was frozen with fear. I just kept asking for her to talk to me or give me back my pillow but she didn't, and by this time I had realized this wasn't my aunt. They just stood there, unmoving. There was no color to them--just an all black, unmoving, figure. Finally, I got the courage to run across the hall to my aunt's room. And sure enough, there she was. My aunt was a heavy sleeper, and though I tried to wake her up, it didn't work. So instead, I laid on the floor and fell back asleep.

That memory has stayed with me my whole life. I'm almost 21, and I still remember it like it was yesterday.

Years passed, and I can't remember anything during that time happening. Not until I was about 7 or 8 years old. We had moved to a new house right before I was supposed to start kindergarten. My aunt had graduated by this time, so it was just me and my grandparents. This house was smaller--just the one story with an attic. My room was diagonal from my grandparents now, but they were heavy sleepers. That probably explains why they never heard the footsteps walking around in the attic. Or maybe it just didn't go over their room. Who knows. But I heard them, and eventually so did my childhood best friend. She was staying the night one night, probably one of the first times she ever did, and we heard them. She was terrified of course, and claimed she could hear someone speaking, as well. I didn't hear that, just the footsteps.

On Mondays, my grandpa was off work. During the summer, he would watch me on those days. His idea of watching me was that he didn't care what I did, or where I went, as long as I was back by 5 before my grandma got home. It was our own little deal. He did laundry all day, and watched whatever was on the sports channels. On this particular day, I decided not to go anywhere, but to investigate the attic instead. I guess I had to be about 8 years old at this point. The opening to the attic was in the garage, and there was a long string to pull it down with. I stood on a box, grabbing the string and jumping down in order to open it. Have you ever smelled an attic during the summer time? It was a very distinct, musty smell. Probably of dead mice and who knows what else.

Part of me was terrified to climb up those steps, but another part of me, the stringer part, had to know what was up there. I made my slow climb up the rickety ladder, and when I reached the top I was shaking with fear. But, there was nothing up there. I figured we had just imagined it. Until I heard a whisper. It sounded like it was coming from the far end of the big empty space, and for a moment I considered going closer to it. Then I realized how insane I would have to be to do that. Instead I just stood there and listened. Probably still not that smart, but I thought I might have imagined it.

Then I heard it again. And this time it was right by my ear.

"I'm coming for you."

I never as fast as I did to climb down those steps. I didn't even bother shutting the attic. That was probably a big mistake, but oh well. I raced to my grandpa, telling him in between jobs, and big gulps of breath what had happened to me. I could tell he didn't quite believe me, but he humored me anyway. He climbed up the steps of the attic to check it out, and of course found nothing. But I know what I heard.

This is only the beginning. The most recent events are what's really terrified me. But this is a huge wall of text, so I'll save the rest for another post. I'm terrified. I don't know what to do. I fear someone or something is going to find me soon, and hurt me. Please help.