Night Terrors

Night Terrors

By Rudy Uribe

“Who’s there?”

Isabel froze.

Not again, she thought.

It was always like this when David was away on business. Her mind played tricks on her, especially at night, when every ordinary sound seemed to take on a life of its own. But this time was different. This time, she was certain she had heard something.

She didn’t move. She barely breathed, waiting for the sound to come again.

Nothing.

She could hear the blood pulsing through her veins, much faster now than it had a minute ago. She hadn’t imagined it. Something had moved—no, slid—but that didn’t make any sense.

She pulled the phone from her pocket and looked at David’s contact information. Her thumb hovered over his name.

No.

She placed the phone on the end table.

She couldn’t call David again. It was late on the East Coast, and these late-night phone calls had become a recurring pattern. David was getting tired of them.

“It’s just your imagination,” he would say.

“Just go to bed, and you’ll see. When the sun comes up, there’ll be nothing there.”

She could hear the entire conversation in her head. They had had it so many times that she knew his words before he spoke them. Each time, David told her it was probably a car backfiring or a jet engine echoing through the canyon.

He was so patient with her.

But his patience was waning.

She was terrified that one night he might finally get fed up and ignore her call.

Then what would she do?

Call the police?

She heard sounds all day long and never gave them a second thought. She remembered the first time she had called David about one. He had been in Cleveland. They were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship, and he couldn’t have been more soothing.

She had married her knight in shining armor.

Perhaps he was right. It was probably just a car speeding down the block.

She sat on the edge of the bed.

No.

He wasn’t right.

She had definitely heard something sliding or being pulled across the floor. Who was she kidding? A car or a plane didn’t sound anything like that.

But still, she had heard the sound only once. She hadn’t heard it since.

One little sound.

It couldn’t have lasted more than a second.

She was being silly.

But still, she wanted so badly to hear David’s voice. He hadn’t called all day, and she missed their playful banter. If she could tell him about the sound, he could reassure her. That alone would end in peaceful sleep.

Instead, she chose to let her husband sleep.

It was just one sound, and it wasn’t even frightening.

Footsteps—that would be worthy of a call.

Isabel knew she was in for a restless night.

David deserved his rest.

But wait.

What if David was still awake, waiting for her phone call?

Had she become that predictable?

Her poor, loving husband.

She looked at the clock. One o’clock in the morning in Vermont.

If David was waiting for her call, he might not be able to sleep. He would be exhausted for his morning presentation.

That wasn’t fair.

He needed his rest.

Back and forth, thoughts bounced around.

Then—

“Oh, my God!”

There it was again.

The sound was in the bedroom with her.

She was certain of it.

If she turned on the lights, what would she see?

She tried to move.

Nothing.

She was unable to move.

She had never felt this paralyzing effect before. Her body seemed to have become something separate from her mind. She could think. She could hear. She could feel her heart pounding.

But she couldn’t move.

And once again.

A third time.

The phone was only a few feet away, but she couldn’t reach it. Her arms wouldn’t move.

She was not imagining this.

She was not dreaming this.

Or was she?

How could she tell?

She chased the thoughts from her head.

It wasn’t a dream.

She wasn’t imagining this.

She had heard a sliding sound.

And it was close.

Why did David have to travel now that they were married? He could have said no, but instead, he chose to be away from her.

Damn him and that stupid job.

No.

No.

She was acting hysterical.

David traveled so he could get her nice things. But they needed a security system for the house. That was irresponsible of him not to install one.

There she was again, berating her husband in her thoughts.

She had to stop.

David was a good man.

There was clearly someone in the house.

Maybe even in the same room.

She had to focus her thoughts on protecting herself.

These insane thoughts were not helpful.

With all her will, she moved her right arm.

It was so stiff she thought she heard bones cracking.

Slowly, painfully, she managed to wrap her fingers around the phone.

Her arm fell to her side.

It rested on the mattress.

But she had the phone.

Thank God she hadn’t dropped it.

She bent her elbow and looked at the screen. She was still in a state of paralysis and couldn’t manipulate her fingers well enough to call David’s number.

She took slow, deep breaths.

Ever so slowly, movement returned.

She was going to call him.

No, she wasn’t.

Yes, she was.

Her indecision was driving her mad.

David would ask if she had looked around the house, and she would have to admit that she hadn’t.

He would tell her to turn on the bedroom light.

Then she would clearly see that nobody was there.

That was all she had to do.

Turn on the light.

Isabel rose from the bed and walked to the light switch.

Click.

The room was dimly lit.

David liked to keep the dimmer on low.

She stood by the wall, taking in every detail from that vantage point.

She saw nothing.

It was all in her imagination.

Thank goodness she hadn’t called David.

She walked around the bed toward the dresser. She would slip into her nightgown and enjoy a good night’s sleep.

Tomorrow, this would all be forgotten.

Isabel took three steps.

And no more.

Three of the dresser’s drawers were open.

Not cracked.

Not slightly ajar.

Wide open.

Isabel shook with terror.

Three sliding sounds.

Three open drawers.

She hurried to the phone, grabbed it, and ran out the front door.

It was cold, and she could see her breath.

David’s phone was on speed dial.

She held it to her ear and backed away from the open front door.

Straight to voicemail.

Was David ignoring her?

Was this the night of all nights when he chose to turn off his phone?

Damn him.

Isabel considered calling 911.

What would that conversation sound like?

She would tell the operator that someone was in her house.

The police would show up and ask if she had seen anyone.

She would tell them no.

But three of her dresser drawers were open.

Even to her, it sounded crazy.

She approached the front door, stepped inside, and walked mindlessly to the medicine cabinet.

It was apparent that one Ambien wasn't enough.

Not when David was away.

She would need a second.

Or maybe even a third.