Page 27 of We Live Here Now

26

Emily

I do not go back to bed. Instead, I scurry as fast as I can down to the ground floor, convinced something awful is following me, and head straight to the sitting room, closing the door and pushing the old accent chair under the door handle. I pant, sweating and terrified, my heart pumping so hard I think it will burst, but the handle doesn’t move.

Still, I don’t take my eyes off it as I eventually curl up on the sofa, a blanket around me, and put the TV on loud on some old comedy channel to save myself from the terrible silence. I don’t watch the show; I watch the door and try not to think about the darkness of the night and the mist outside that’s suffocating the house. At some point, my mobile phone, still upstairs, rings, Freddie calling to say good night, but I let it ring till it stops. Then finally, after hours of staring at the door, my eyes grow heavier than my fear and I drift into a disturbed sleep full of vivid nightmares.

In my dream I’m asleep on my bed and I wake with a start. Something’s woken me. A noise . A heartbeat. It’s coming from under my bed, pulsing the mattress as if it’s made of skin.

I sit up and the first thing I see is that there’s ice covering the bedroom window and icicles on the furniture, but I’m still warm. The heartbeat gets louder; what was a gentle pulse now shakes the entire bed, thumping at it from underneath, demanding attention until the whole room vibrates and I have to cling on as if on a raft in a storm. Suddenly it stops, quieting back down to a steady gentle prod from underneath, and dream-me plucks up the courage to peer under the bed.

Freddie’s there, clinging to the bedsprings like a mountain climber, fingers hooked in around the metal. He looks my way and smiles, his grin stretching too wide, cutting across his face ear to ear, and his eyes shine in the gloom.

Don’t touch the floorboards. They’ll suck you in. He shivers. I told you it was cold in here, didn’t I? I told you. Why do you keep opening the windows?

He opens his mouth wide and the gaping yawn takes on the shape of the third-floor window, and I look into the void and am terrified it’s going to swallow me up and then—

I wake up for real, gasping and sweating on the sofa, my body screaming in pain. To my relief, as my surroundings settle into place, I see it’s morning, sunlight streaming in around the corners of the curtains, and the house is quiet and calm.

When I carefully open the sitting room door, everything is normal in the hallway and there are no strange sounds coming from the third floor. Still, I don’t want to linger here today alone if I don’t have to, and after I’ve texted Freddie to say I’d slept through his call and all is well, I have a quick shower, take some pills, and then head out. There’s one more person I can ask about this house. I just hope she’ll speak to me.