Unspoken

"I don't want to talk about it." she said storming out of the room. I never meant to pry. I never meant to offend her, but why the secrecy? Moments ago, my darling Delia screamed bloody murder in the kitchen as she prepared our lunch. I rushed to her rescue, but the moment I entered the room, she stood there with her arms crossed with a punished expression not unlike a child who's been bullied into secrecy. She described a spider had ran across the floor, but when I asked her again, she seemed uncertain.

"I don't want to talk about it." was how she ended the conversation.

A week later she had returned from a visit to her psychologist. She booked an appointment insisting it was urgent. I asked her how it went, and she simply said it was fine. Still dissatisfied, I asked her if she was at least feeling better about the situation.

"Something just freaked me out, okay? I thought it was a bug or something, but it moved so fast, it could have even been a mouse." her voice continuously dismissive.

Delia and I agreed to stop sleeping in the same bed a long time ago. There comes a point when all the tossing and turning merely relieves you of that crucial REM sleep, and we both needed it. That evening however, Delia insisted she sleep in the same bed as me. I didn't have to be a fool to know she was scared, deeply terrified. She saw something that day, and she refuses to speak about it.

We lay in bed for several moments, my eyes fixed on the ceiling. "How is the temperature in the room?" I asked her. With a sigh, she replies: "It's fine." Unable to contain my frustration any longer, I ask: "What's your problem"? "Why didn't you ask to have sex?" she asked. I sensed a loaded question. "Because I thought - fine! Delia, would you like to have sex?" I ask her, but she looks at me annoyedly, and turns away from me. It's times like these I find marriage grating, but as her majesty wishes, I will leave her be.

I was successful in falling into a deep sleep. Despite the cold shoulder, the company was a nice change. I change position when I hear it. A sound like someone whispering ever so gently in your ear coming from Delia's side of the bed: "Tehp, tehp, tehp..." I startle upright. "What the hell was that?" I demanded. Delia acts like she's just now waking up. "What? What did you see?" she asked. "It's not what I saw, but what I heard, Delia." I told her, my patience for her act wearing thin. "So what did you hear?" she asked. "It sounded just like whispering, like someone was whispering in your ear!" I explained. "What did they say? Was it a man or a woman's voice?" she asked. "I couldn't make out anything they were saying. The moment I looked up, nobody was there. As for the gender - it didn't sound like either." I turn to the nightstand where I turn on the lamp. "What are you doing? Let's just go back to bed. I'm tired and I want to workout in the morning before my day starts." Delia explained. "Delia, I'm deeply concerned. I feel like you are keeping a secret from me. Don't you trust me?" I asked her. Delia rolls over away from me, and I can hear her beginning to sob. "I just need some sleep, please just let me sleep." she begged. "If you want sleep so bad, why don't you go back to your room for god's sake? Why the need to sleep next to me?" I demanded angrily. "Because I'm afraid to be alone..." she shouted back, she put her hand over her mouth before she could finish her sentence. "With who, my love? Afraid to be left alone with who?" I asked gently, placing my hand on her shoulder. She rolled over and began crying against my chest. I held her close, so close that I could feel her quickened heart beat. I look past the slit of the curtains, the moonlight is comforting, even romantic, and that's when I saw it. It moved! For a split second, I saw what I swore was a hand retracting and hiding behind the curtain. I have to check it out, but when I try, Delia keeps a tight grip on me. "Just go to sleep, please just go to sleep. Everything's fine." Delia whispered drearily. Everything's fine she said.

I missed my alarm that morning, and the subsequent five missed calls from my employer. I called back and said I could be there for 1pm, but my boss insisted I probably needed the rest, he'll just mark it as a sick day. Relieved but now feeling listless, I decided to binge watch some true crime series. Delia wouldn't be back from the daycare until 3:30pm. Funny how the one day she chooses to have an early morning workout would be the same day I would sleep past all those alarms and calls, it's as if there was no noise at all. I use the remote control to turn up the sound on the soundbar. As luck would have it, the sound shuts off completely, and the lights I normally see coming from the damn thing go black. Broken? Really? It's only three years old, that's nothing for Pete's sake. I turn the setting back to the tv's internal speakers, and wouldn't you know it, the tv's sound fail too. I try turning it off then on again, nothing! Great, that's a thousand dollars just to get the entertainment replaced. It's awful how much we rely upon it in our day and age, how pathetically dependant we are. I decide perhaps I'll go to the grocery store, and get ingredients to make myself and Delia a Michelin quality dinner, or at least as close as a clown like myself can create.

Delia returned home in a tizzy. She was receiving calls from parent after parent, saying over and over that their child wasn't crazy, and they need to respect their need for a quiet space at home. I explained to her about the tv, she says it's probably for the best. "Delia, you're beginning to scare me. Can we please sit down and discuss what's going on in your life right now and apparently the life of your children?" I asked, but Delia merely gave me a frightened side eye. She moved over to another room, the closet of all places. I followed immediately behind her. "Close the door!" she whispered violently. I shut the door behind us. I attempt to click on the overhead lightbulb, but Delia stops my hand. "No, let's keep this in the dark. We don't need to see each other for this, do we?" she whispered. "No, I suppose not. Tell me then." I demanded. Delia let out a nervous exhale. I'm not supposed to talk about this, and neither are the kids, but you have to trust me when I say to you that there are some things in this world much older and more powerful than man. Timmy Erickson uncovered a secret long thought buried, one that should have remained buried. What he found - what he shared with the whole class is damned. Some things just weren't meant for either heaven nor hell." she explained. "I don't entirely understand. How can a kindergartener uncover something like this? He can't even read..." Before I could finish my sentence, Delia let out a blood cuddling scream. She flailed about, slapping me on the chest multiple times. She hurriedly opened the closet door and ran out. I stumble out a moment later, only to find Delia in tears, a string of saliva hanging from her open mouth.

I spoke to a therapist for the first time since my days in high school when my mom was deeply concerned for me. I didn't tell them about the myth, but I mentioned that Delia was acting deeply disturbed, probably worse than telling the whole truth. I don't mean to paint Delia in a negative light, but what was described to me that night was potentially too dangerous to share. I can't confirm whether or not she was telling the truth because there were no public records of the entity she described. I can only trust that what she told me was the truth, and hope that now, we can combat this threat together as a team.

Once the session had concluded, I breathed in the outside air, feeling as if a weight has been lifted. It may not have given me answers, but having someone else show me some sympathy, even for a minute, was a gift. I turned my phone back on, and that's when it happened. I received six messages from Delia. In the first, she told me to come right home afterwards and forget the take-out, they'll just get delivery instead. The next four urged me to come back home as quickly as I could. However, it was the last that made me fear for her the most: "If you are getting this, do me a favour and stay away from the house. It's too late." I book it to my car, dropping my keys struggling to grab the car key amongst the rest of the ring. I ran a red light turning left onto the street.

I pull into the driveway, the house looks completely intact. I hurry the front door open and stumble inside. I pause almost immediately. There is a chill in the air, and a scent like lilacs masking the stench of a nearby slaughterhouse of a cattle farm. The feeling of uncertainty was so paralyzing I completely forgot to call out for Delia. I turn my gaze downwards to the floor. There is a puddle on the floor, it looks clear like water, but once I touch it, I realize the viscosity and stickiness is much more akin to saliva. That's a lot of drool for one person. As I walk deeper into the living room, and slaughterhouse scent burns the hairs of my nostrils. I look for the source, and there, hiding behind the island, lay Delia facing away from me. I rush over and kneel before her, clutching her body towards me. I remove the hair from her face when I see it. Her eyes have begun to whiten, and her lips and tongue have both been ripped from her mouth.

I waited outside my house while the police made an investigation. I was asked where I was during this time, and I told them at a therapist in the city. I was left alone for what felt like an eternity, watching personnel do their jobs while the despair swallowed me whole. Delia gone and all because I felt like I was the one taking on too much. How could I be so selfish? Why didn't I give her some kind of escape from that damn house? I doubt I'll be able to sell it now. Police sergeant Donnelly approached me personally. I was told the removal of Delia's tongue and lips was crude, as if forcibly ripped out by hand. There were no weapons found, no finger prints, and no signs of forced entry. I was asked if I knew of anyone who might have wanted to do something like this to Delia or perhaps even myself. I told him I needed a moment to consider. "I'll wait aside for a minute to chat with my coroner. I'll check back shortly." he said as he walked off within view. This was my chance, I could explain to him the scary crap Delia had recounted to me, but would he even believe me? I'm sure at this point, explaining how something that committed a perfect crime was supernatural wouldn't be too much of a surprise. I feel something tug gently at my earlobes, a chill running down my spine. "If you tell them anything I'm going to do something much more creative than rip out your tongue." the voice whispered, like the sound of a tree branch scratching against a window. A terrified look plastered onto my face as Donnelly began walking back towards me.

The End