An Echo In The Dark

Based on a true story.

Terri jolted upright, her breath shallow, heart racing. The room was silent, but the echo of her brother’s voice still rang in her ears; raw, desperate, calling her name like a warning from the grave.

She blinked into the dim light of her bedroom. The shadows clung to the corners like secrets, and the air felt heavier than usual. She was hot and drenched in sweat. Her pajamas clinging to her like cellophane due to the perspiration.

Terri’s brother, Steven, was home sleeping, cooped up in his apartment because of the COVID pandemic. She had talked to him only a couple of days ago, when he had called to let her know of his wife’s passing earlier that day. The thought of that had been weighing on Terri’s mind ever since.

Tonight, Steven’s voice had pierced her sleep with such clarity it felt like he was standing right beside her.

“Terri…”

She whispered it aloud, testing the sound, then hoping it would lose its power once spoken. It did not.

As much as Terri tried, she could not remember what the dream was about, only that her brother was calling out to her. Was it a message? Or was it just her subconscious playing tricks on her again as it usually did. Chalk it up to having an over-active imagination. The prickling of her skin did not help matters either. She could not help but wonder if something was wrong.

Terri swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet brushing the cold wooden floor. The silence was thick, but not empty. It pulsed with something unsaid. The moonlight spilled through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the room. She felt her husband, Robbie stirring next to her and turned to watch him shift under the covers to face her. She saw his eyes open to look at her.

When he spoke, his voice was gravelly and low. “Everything okay?”

Terri stared at him, not knowing how to respond, but the look on her face said it all.

“Nightmare?”

She paused for a moment before replying. “Yes.”

Standing, Terri moved over to the door. Robbie leaned on one elbow, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Where are you going?”

Terri paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She turned her head to look back and felt his eyes search hers, but she did not meet them.

“Just getting some water.” She said, maybe a little too quickly.

Continuing to look over in his direction, she looked down slightly hoping to avoid eye contact, and waited a couple of heartbeats to see if he might respond. And maybe he did, but whatever he said was incoherent to her as he slid back under the covers and turned over to go back to sleep.

She let out a low and soft sigh. When she stood up from the bed, Robbie did not see her grab her cell phone that she now clutched in her other hand.

Terri opened the bedroom door, the hallway beyond felt like a tunnel, leading not to the kitchen, but something deeper. She stepped into the hallway, the door creaking behind her. Each step felt heavier than the last. In the kitchen, she poured a glass of water, her hands trembling. The cell phone sat on the counter, waiting. Taking a few sips, she put down the glass and picked up the phone, her hand still trembled. As the phone flared to life from the movement, she stared down at it. The time read 2:47 a.m.

She had not meant to wake up. The dream had done that. Steven’s voice had been so clear, or so she thought. Not the voice of the man he became, but the boy she remembered. The one who used to chase her through the sprinkler in their backyard and who cried along side her when she scraped her knee and offered his favorite toy as a bandage. Their relationship now was tenuous at best.

“Terri,” he had said in her dream. Just her name. But it was the way he said it, like it was the last thing he would ever say.

She continued to look down at the phone, but she did not move otherwise.

The last time she spoke to Steven was two days earlier when he told her Francine, his wife had passed. She died due to COVID. It was Valentine’s Day.

Francine was not in the best of health to begin with, being pretty much bed ridden due to her diabetes. As a matter of fact, Steven himself was not healthy by any means, suffering from Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.

Outside, the wind howled against the windows like it wanted in. Terri thought of the dream again. The way he said her name. Not angry. Not broken. Just… tired.

She used her index finger to swipe and open the phone and continued to swipe until she came to her brother’s name in the contacts. Terri’s finger hovered centimeters over Steven’s phone number, ready to press down.

Terri paused, moving her finger away from his phone number and placing the phone back onto the kitchen counter. The face of the phone went black and let the dark swallow her and the kitchen whole.

Terri let her eyes adjust to the darkness before proceeding back to the bedroom. Her cell phone sat on the kitchen counter, accompanied by a half drunk glass of water.

Slipping back under the covers, Terri adjusted her position so she can get more comfortable. She turned her head to where Robbie was lying. He did not stir from the movement of her getting back into bed. She heard him breathing heavy and determined that he was fast asleep. Terri looked up at the darkened ceiling, eyes wide open, her name echoing in her mind with her brother’s voice. It will fade eventually, she thought. She will call Steven in the morning to check in on him.

Not realizing how tired she was, Terri yawned twice, but she was still having trouble falling back to sleep. Before slumber finally took her, Terri hoped that she would not dream again tonight. And without realizing it quickly fell back to sleep.

February Twentieth.

Terri folded a pair of her son’s socks with mechanical precision. The bedroom was quiet except for the soft thump of the fabric and the occasional creak of the house settling. Outside, the February wind scraped against the windows like fingernails. The cell phone rang in her bedroom where it was charging.

She paused, hands still clutching a T-shirt, and listened. One ring. Two. Three. Four. Then silence. She did not rush. Whoever it was could leave a message.

Ten minutes later, Terri wandered into the master bedroom, the laundry basket balanced on her hip. Placing the basket down onto the bed, she picked up her cell phone where it was cradled in the wireless charger on the night stand. Looking down at the screen she noticed there was one missed call and one voice message. Caller ID showed County Coroner’s office. She continued to stare at the phone for what felt like an eternity, before finally gathering up the courage to press on the voice message. Terri tentatively brought the phone to her ear to listen.

“Hi, this message is for Terri Levi. My name is Laurie, I am an investigator with the County Coroner. Please give our office a call back at 555-555-1027. Thank you.”

This time, not even hesitating, Terri called the phone number back. As she waited for someone to pick up, she prayed that this was someone’s idea of a joke. But deep down inside she knew that it was not. The phone rang and went to voice mail.

After leaving her name, phone number and a brief message that she was returning their call, Terri hung up. She stood there, staring at her phone, unable to move. The silence in the room grew louder almost to the point of deafening. The phone rang in her hand, causing her to jump.

Answering, not even looking to see who it was, because deep down she already knew, Terri slowly brought the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello. May I please speak with Terri Levi.” A woman’s voice. Calm. Professional.

Terri answered back, unable to keep the quiver out of her voice. “This is she.”

“Hello. My name is Laurie. I am calling in regard to Steven Freeman. Do you know him?”

“Yes, he’s my brother.” Her voice still quivered even though she tried to steel herself for what was coming next. Oh god, she thought.

“Mrs. Levi, Terri. I am sorry to inform you that your brother Steven was found deceased yesterday in his apartment. We do believe however that the estimated time of death was three days earlier.”

Terri did not speak.

Laurie continued, listing procedures, next steps, legal things that sounded like static. She followed up, asking if Terri had any questions.

Terri had trouble getting the words out. The coroner investigator was patient. “Y-yes. Do you k-know how my brother died?”

“Complications due to COVID. Is there anything else?” The reply sounded detached, yet sympathetic.

“N-no.”

Laurie concluded “I am sorry for your loss,” and hung up.

Terri heard a click and the line was silent.

The phone slipped out of her fingers and dropped to the floor. Terri followed suit, crumpling like a house of cards, her mind reeling.

Steven.

Four days ago. The same night she dreamed of him calling her name.

Four days ago.

She had heard him.

And she had not called.