Scared of the Dark

Her eyes would just not close. The clock on the nightstand glowed with the reality that sleep was being wasted; minutes marched by so quickly; she would not get any of them back. Every noise formidably louder than the last. Pipes creaked. The large wall clock in the living room reverberated off the walls as each time the second hand advanced. The springs were wearing out. The echo was ungodly loud.

11:48, 49, 50…

BANG! Jean nearly jumped out of bed. Tangled in the sheets she hurriedly started to untangle the cotton sheet corners from around her legs. Swinging her legs over the side and sitting up she sat perfectly still. So still, she could feel her body slowly shaking with the effort to remain silent.

Standing, creeping towards the bedroom door, she slowly peaked around the corner. Her bedroom door was directly across from the front door in her tiny townhome. She meticulously scanned the room for several seconds to ensure everything was in its place. The grey walls were washed in moonlight. It helped to give off some ambient light to see at night without switching a light on but muted it enough that a person could hide in the shadows.

BANG!

She immediately jumped. Her head snapped to attention in the direction of the front door. That darn screen door latch was going to need replacing and soon! It kept her up most nights. But then again, was it that door really what kept her up.

Those footsteps across her hard vinyl floors were burned into her brain. Friday nights were the worst. There was never any going to sleep easily on Fridays. That night six months ago was horrific. It was a night that is burned into memories mingled with nightmares.

Slow, deliberate steps had made it to her bedroom door. A person had entered her small sanctuary at the corner of a quiet small-town cul-de-sac. He had not forced his way in. He knew the house. He knew her schedule. He knew how to gain access with a key she never handed over, but he acquired somehow.

She had sat up that night with a start, much like tonight. The dark figure standing in her doorway. The moment he spoke a few syllables she released her fear, ever so slightly. She knew the voice. One that had been in her life for a few years now. A voice that always sounded friendly, but deep down sounded darker, ominous even.

“What are you doing here? Is something wrong with the kids?” she sheepishly inquired. Knowing that his divorce was in the process and those precious littles were in the middle of an ugly fight. He had always come to her for advice. This new situation in his life attracted him to her like a moth to a flame. Always lurking around her office. That is how they met by the way – work. Always pressing into personal space but never going past the limit – until that night.

Those questions spoken into the darkness went unanswered that night. No more words were spoken, just actions that can’t be unfelt more than not unseen. Nothing was really in full view that night. Everything happened so fast, and yet, so agonizingly slow that she has not slept well since.

The cold, clammy hands. The hot, sticky breath. Grunts that were forceful accompanied by whimpers of surrender realizing no one is helping.

No one is listening. And this “friend” was not listening to any protesting, not that night. She resolved the fact that her pleas for safety and her incessant cries to stop were landing on a monster’s ears.

The morning could not come soon enough for Jean. She lay there in bed, clothes torn, bleeding, and crying. He left as quietly as he had appeared in her doorway.

The following days and months drug on. Having to see him and that fake smile every day. Having to work for a company and a building that protected him because he was the “victim”.

His divorce made him do it.

You asked for it.

You led him on and all he wanted to do was date you, and you said no.

All the lies circled around her to the point that led to this moment in the dark. The moment where a slam of a broken screen door had her jumping to her feet in a fight or flight mode. Snapping to reality, she was back in her quiet, still town home. Looking at the front door anticipating that someone was on the other side.

Then a shadow moved outside, and the doorknob began to turn slightly…