13 Night Terrors

by D A Roach et al.

  “Scared?” she whispered in a cold, hard voice, her words muffled by the glass.

  I shook my head roughly without breaking eye contact. Austin is right. This isn’t real.

  The vision of my mother laughed, but her eyes remained cold. “You should be,” she mumbled. Her tongue flitted over her cracked lips, and she stared at me for a second longer before she turned and stalked off toward the trees lining the opposite side of the road. My gaze followed her until she disappeared into the trees.

  I was vaguely aware that my eyes were watering when something thumped against the door. I had been so focused on staring at the spot where my mom had faded into the tree line and trying to control my heartbeat. I jumped and pulled my legs up onto the seat in front of me, hiding my tear-streaked face by pressing it into my knees.

  There was a low rapping noise against the window, so I lifted my head slowly and glanced toward the driver’s side window. There stood Austin, looking at me rather impatiently. His hair was blowing gently, and his cheeks were red due to the cold evening air.

  I unlocked the doors, and he immediately pulled the door open and climbed in. Once he was inside, I slammed my hand down onto the button and locked all of the doors again. Whether what I had seen was real or not, I wasn’t taking any chances.

  I tried to discreetly wipe the tears from my eyes so Austin wouldn't notice. This was my problem, not his. I needed to fix this. The worst part was that I no longer knew whether I even believed what I was seeing or not.

  Another tear shed, and I wiped it before it could run a path down my cheek. I hated thinking about that. Most of all, I hated thinking about her. I had tried so hard to push the thoughts of the past as far away as possible, but when I started seeing her, the bad dreams started again, which made it so hard for me to forget. Not to mention how crazy it made me look when she showed up whenever I was alone and then disappeared into the night, leaving no traces.

  Austin passed me a small paper bag and said, “Eat up, love. We missed lunch.”

  I forced a small smile. “Thank you.” I shoved my hand into the bag and pulled out a bag of chips. I quickly popped the bag open and began eating them hungrily.

  Austin laughed and started the car. “Maybe your stomach was playing tricks on your head. You didn’t really see anything earlier. You were so hungry you started hallucinating.”

  I frowned, but he didn’t see it. He proceeded to pull out of the gas station onto the main road. I stared out of the window at all of the brightly colored leaves up in the trees as I munched on my chips. I lowered my gaze back to the ground and watched the trees flying past replaced by wild, uncut grass.

  Another half an hour and the car came to a slow stop in front of the house that became my home after the traumatic event that ended my childhood.

  As soon as the car was parked, the front door of the old Victorian house opened, and inside stood my adoptive mother, waving and smiling widely.

  I forced a smile, climbed out of the car, and headed up the front walkway. I was excited to see them, but I hoped they didn’t find out about what I was dealing with. It was comforting knowing Austin was behind me, ready to come to my rescue at any moment. We had already spoken about how I didn’t want them to know, because they didn’t need the added stress from worrying about me.

  My mom, the one I had wished on multiple occasions could’ve been my birth mother, pushed open the screen door and enveloped me in a warm hug. Like always, she smelled like vanilla and lavender. After a moment, she pulled away and held me at arm’s length. “Look at you. You just get more and more beautiful every time I see you.”

  I blushed. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She leaned around me and looked at Austin. “How was the drive? Not too bad?”

  “Nope, it was smooth sailing. Didn’t hit much traffic at all.”

  Mom beamed. “Glad to hear it.” She let go of my shoulders and went to give Austin a hug, all the while commenting about how tall he’d gotten.

  Once the greetings were done, she led us into the house. The smell of something cooking in the kitchen made my mouth water, even though I had just eaten.

  “Dad’s in his usual spot,” she informed us with a wink. “Go in and let him know you made it. I have to check on dinner.” She hurried off toward the kitchen, leaving Austin and me to head into the living room, where my adoptive father was sure to be. Ever since he retired, he spent a lot of his time parked in his reclining chair watching the game show network.

  As soon as we entered, his head snapped up in our direction. Just like I had thought, he had been sitting back in his chair watching Jeopardy, but as soon as he saw me, a smile lit up his face.

  “Logan?” he shouted over the television. “Is that you?” He squinted his eyes and stood up. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, I can hardly remember what you look like,” he joked. Laughing, he held his arms out, and I rushed over to give him a long hug. He smelled the same as always. Like after-shave and his favorite sage-scented cologne. I pulled back, and he gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

  “How have you been? You do know that a call once in a while won't kill you, right?” He raised an eyebrow, and his clear blue eyes twinkled.

  I nodded. “I know, I’m sorry. I just get so busy.”

  Dad plopped back down into his seat. “You can never get too busy to check in on your folks, kiddo.” Then he turned his attention to Austin and started asking him how work was going.

  Not wanting to join in on the conversation, I wandered into the kitchen to find Mom. I found her stirring a pot on the stove. I slid into a stool at the island and rested my elbows on the counter.

  Mom tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pot and then placed the lid on it. Once she set the spoon down, she turned to me, wiping her hands on her apron. “I heard your dad ask, but it didn’t seem like he got a real answer. How have you been?” She regarded me, her gaze heavy.

  I shrugged. “Not great,” I answered honestly. I had always had trouble lying to them. “The usual.”

  Her face clouded for a second before a sympathetic look transformed her expression. “Still having nightmares?”

  I nodded. She pressed her lips together and came to join me at the island, leaning against it in front of me.

  “Tell me all about it.”

  I huffed, chewing my lip as I thought about what to tell her and what to keep to myself. In seconds, she was sitting next to me, placing her hand over mine and squeezing it gently, encouraging me to speak.

  Austin was the only person I had ever told about the frequent “visits” from my supposedly dead mother. After I had told him, he gave me a few Tylenol and told me it was all in my head. Every time after that when I mentioned my birth mother, he would look at me with so much pity in his eyes. Having him think I was crazy was enough. Did I really want my kind, loving, adoptive mother to think the same?

  Anne rubbed a small circle on the back of my hand, causing me to snap out of my trance. I cleared my throat. “Well, my dreams haven’t really gotten better. Not even with therapy. Every time I close my eyes, she’s there.”

  The way she looked at me with disgust and even the feeling of her slender fingers as they came into contact with my face sent a shiver down my spine. Everything was so real it was hard to believe it wasn’t.

  “I hate that all of my dreams are bad. I can only faintly remember the times when my father was working late and she would rock me to sleep at night and whisper in my ear about how much she loved me. This is going to sound horrible, but it feels like none of those memories matter anymore. It’s as if the bad outweighs the good.”

  “What you need to do is try and remember the good. No matter what, she was your mother. The dreams will go away soon, honey. Just give it time.” Although her voice was reassuring, it was evident there was something she wasn’t saying, but I didn’t want to press it. I didn’t even want to talk about this anymore.

  I pushed myself up from the stool and hugged her. “Thanks. For
everything. I’m going to go take my bags up and get settled in.”

  I exited the room, grabbed my bags, and headed up the stairs toward my bedroom. I needed a shower and a distraction from my thoughts, but more than anything, I needed a good night’s rest. I walked down the hallway and slipped into my old bedroom. For the first time in weeks, I felt safe, like no one could get to me here in the bedroom I’d grown up in and was safe in for so long.

  But I had learned fast that I could never escape the memories. And I had a horrible wracking feeling the past was coming back to haunt me. Literally and figuratively.

  Chapter Two

  The faucet squeaked as I turned the shower off. I wrapped my hair in a towel and stepped out of the tub onto the floor mat. All the while, my mind was racing. The hot water had really allowed me to think, and I decided it was time to tell my parents about how I had been seeing my dead birth mother. I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer, and I knew they would want to know and be there for me.

  Once I had finished toweling off and getting dressed, I walked to the end of the hallway and into my old bedroom. It was significantly darker now that the sun had set, and no light was shining in through the open window. The floor creaked when I stepped into the room, and I had to squint just to see through the permeating darkness. I searched for the lamp in the corner nearest to my bedroom door. I had always hated the fact that the only light in my room had to be turned on by hand. The switch at the door only controlled the ceiling fan in the center of the room.

  I leaned forward with my arms outstretched in search of the lamp, the breeze from the open window blowing my wet tresses out behind me. When my fingertips brushed against the lampshade, the floor behind me creaked, and the bedroom door slammed shut, causing me to jump forward and almost knock it off of the nightstand it was perched on. My hands began to tremble, and the hair stood up on the back of my neck. Although the only sound was coming from my blood rushing in my ears and my heart slamming against my ribcage, I could feel a presence standing in the shadows behind me.

  I spun around slowly, backing away from the door further, my hands fumbling for the knob on the lamp. Now that I was facing the door, I could see a human-shaped shadow lurking in the darkness not far from where I was standing. My heart nearly leapt out of my throat when the figure took a few steps toward me, stopping when the sound of the floorboards creaking under its weight caused it to stop and stand completely still.

  “Austin,” I said, my voice shaky, “if that’s you, this isn’t funny.”

  My eyes remained glued to the now-motionless figure across from me. I took another step backward until my back pressed uncomfortably into the dresser behind me. Horrified, I watched the figure take another step and move closer. For some reason, I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to scream, but my mouth wouldn’t work. There was something keeping me from opening my mouth. Whether it was a voice in my head telling me that Austin was right and it was just my imagination playing tricks on me, or it was a piece of myself that wanted confirmation she was real, I didn’t know.

  The silence was my answer. Austin would have spoken up.

  I was breathing heavily by the time the unknown person was standing in front of me, close enough for me to reach out and touch them. Their face was hidden by the shadows, and although my hand had found the knob to turn the light on, I was frozen in my spot. My back was pressed so close to the dresser I could feel the sharp edge of the wood cutting into my lower back. When the person leaned in to me, I hurriedly turned on the light.

  Light flooded the room, chasing away every shadow and leaving me standing alone in my room. There was no one in front of me. Nothing to explain the figure I had seen in the dark. Finally, my mouth worked again, and I let out a wracking sob and hunched forward, hugging myself tightly. Austin was right. I was going crazy. I was so sure someone had been standing in the dark room with me, just like I was sure I had seen my mother at the gas station. Now I didn’t know what to believe. Maybe he was right. I need help. My birth mother died, and she wasn’t coming back.

  I remained hunched over on the floor for a while longer, letting my tears dry up and trying to convince myself I wasn’t crazy and I just needed a good night’s sleep. It wasn’t working. Flashes of my mother’s face kept filling my mind. She had seemed so real. It was hard to believe I had imagined it. Even now, I still wasn’t fully convinced.

  Chapter Three

  I pushed myself up into a sitting position with a loud gasp. Austin was lying asleep on the bed next to me. His hair was tousled, and his mouth was opened into a small “o” shape. His deep breaths caused his naked chest to rise and fall gently, in tune with his light snores.

  I raised my hand and rested it on my chest to feel my wildly beating heart. Leaning over, I pulled the covers up over my shoulders and rested my head on Austin’s bare chest. His arms automatically snaked around my body, pulling me closer to him. I sighed in contentment, shut my eyes, and willed myself to go back to sleep.

  The sound of a wooden floorboard creaking filled the room. I snapped my head around, peering into the direction the sound had come from. In the moonlight streaming in through my open bedroom window, I was able to make out a hunched-over figure on the floor next to the door.

  In the scarce moonlight, all I could see was pale skin and a curtain of black hair. I couldn’t help but hope my mind was playing tricks on me. The figure shifted positions, tilting her head up to stare at me with too large orbs for eyes.

  Before I could contain it, the scream pierced through my open mouth.

  The figure on the floor pushed itself up to a standing position and ran toward the open window. I was still screaming bloody murder when the figure climbed out the window. Austin sat up quickly and fumbled for the lamp. By the time he turned the light on, the person was long gone.

  And yet I couldn’t stop screaming. A lightheadedness settled over me due to the fact that the screaming wasn’t allowing me to breathe correctly. I could feel Austin’s hands on my shoulders as he shook me gently, trying to gain my attention, but my eyes were still firmly fixed on the spot where the figure had been just moments before it escaped out the window.

  Before long, my bedroom door flew open, and my parents came running in, their eyes scanning the room. My dad had a baseball bat gripped firmly in his hands, but when he saw there was no intruder, he let it drop to the floor with a clang.

  Mom ran toward me. Her lips were moving, but I couldn’t hear a sound coming out. Austin gripped my head in his hands and forced me to face him. That’s when the screaming stopped and the tears started.

  My head felt foggy, and it was hard to think rationally, but when I saw the desperate look in Austin’s eyes, I couldn’t help but break down in tears. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. The familiar smell of his body wash reached my nose, comforting me slightly. I lay there for a moment, my head resting against his bare chest while he stroked my head and wiped away my tears.

  When I was calm again, I pulled away, looking around at my family. Austin’s brown eyes were filled with worry, while my parents’ eyes were clouded with distress and fear.

  “What the hell happened?” my dad asked.

  The words all bunched together in my mouth, and I choked, not knowing what would be the best to start with. “There was someone in here.” My words came out breathlessly, as if I had just endured a long marathon.

  Austin wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer to him in a protective manner. He nuzzled his head into the side of my hair, breathing deeply.

  “Lou, close the window,” my mom demanded before turning to me. “All of the doors are locked, and your father and I are going to go around and make sure every window and door are shut and locked. Okay, Logan? I want you to feel safe at home.” Her slightly graying brown hair was messy from sleep, and her eyes were covered by a pair of reading glasses that magnified her eyes and were crooked on her nose, showing she had thrown them on just before she had come runn
ing in here.

  Dad went to shut and lock the window, leaning out to look outside before he did so. Before he left the room, he gave Austin a questioning look, to which I didn’t see Austin’s expression in response. Then he smiled weakly at me and said, “Get some rest, kiddo. Austin, can I talk to you outside for a second, son?”

  “Of course, sir.” Austin placed a kiss on top of my head and slid out of bed. Luckily, he had fallen asleep in his sweatpants and not in his boxers.

  Austin followed my parents out of the room. They left my door cracked, speaking in hushed voices in the hallway. When they returned, I had finally gotten myself to stop crying. My eyes were still watery, but the tear trails on my cheeks had crusted over.

  My mom entered the room first, pushing the door open and peeking inside. “Logan, Austin mentioned there’s something you might want to tell us.”

  My gaze flickered to Austin, who gave me a sympathetic look, then back at my parents—the ones who had chosen to love me despite my awful past. When they signed my adoption papers, they promised to love me always, but I was willing to bet anything they hadn’t expected that someday I’d be having visions of my dead mother.

  Either way, Austin was right. It was time they knew the truth. Even if it meant I’d be sent to a head shrink in the morning. If that was the only thing that would help me, then bring it on.

  I sighed. I beckoned them all over to take a seat while I thought of how to begin. How the hell does someone explain something like this?

  Taking another breath to prepare myself, I finally admitted the truth to them. “I’ve been having these…visions. It’s like my mind is playing tricks on me or something.”

  Everyone’s gazes shifted to me. Austin’s was encouraging, but my parents looked confused.

  “What do you mean visions?” my dad asked. “Like psychic visions?”

  I shook my head. “I guess ‘visions’ isn’t a great word for it. Maybe I should say hallucinations. It’s just I keep seeing my birth mother everywhere.”