13 Night Terrors

by D A Roach et al.

  Hayley pinched the bridge of her nose, a fresh wave of weakness settling over her as she let the truth wash through her. Anthony was right. Danny wasn’t there. He wasn’t real. She should accept that. She needed to accept that, even if it meant talking to a shrink. She reached up to rub the sore muscles of her neck. A shower would do her wonders. It was easier to think in the shower. The water drummed out the background noise. Hayley did the painful shuffle to the bathroom, letting her nightgown fall off her to the floor. She snapped on the water, standing under the heated stream.

  Danny wasn’t real. Danny was real.

  Her mind circled between the two thoughts. She could still smell him, that wet earth scent she should have found unpleasant. She felt his touch and heard his voice. Sight, smell, touch, hearing, Danny engaged her senses with his presence. Was a hallucination so complex? She didn’t know enough to say, but Anthony couldn’t see Danny, couldn’t interact with the little boy at all, though he experienced the same loss.

  The very same loss he dealt with alone because she sent him away. Had he really ignored her? Or had she shut him out too? He had to be feeling pain too, so much pain. She’d learned in their years together that she had to pry his feelings out of him, something she forgot in her own misery. She sighed and snapped off the water. She needed to close the rift between them. Hayley wrapped a towel around herself, swiping a hand over the mirror to get a good look at her face.

  Her appearance was worse than she thought. She looked sunken, as if her time in the nursery sucked the vitality out of her. Her neck still ached. She reached to rub the muscles and frowned, tilting her body to look at the area in the mirror. Deep violet blue bruises colored her shoulders. She moved her hair, leaning in closer, trying to figure out how she’d gotten them. When she saw the shape of them, she staggered back from the sink, her heart kicking up against her ribs. An internal switch flipped.

  “He’s not real,” she told her wide-eyed reflection. “He’s not real.” She took an unsteady breath and slipped on her nightgown. She’d avoid the nursery tonight, join Anthony on the couch, and show him the bruises. He would help explain them away. Remind her this was all in her head. But first she had to pass the nursery to get to the living room.

  Her shuffling steps were slow. Her hands gripped her nightgown.

  Just walk past it, don’t look, and keep walking.

  She repeated the mantra in her head as she stepped by the nursery door. Heat greeted her. Her steps faltered. Hayley swallowed, staring at her feet. After a long moment, she turned to look into the nursery. Empty. Her relief was palpable. The room was empty, warm sunlight pouring in through the open window. The window Anthony shut earlier.

  Hayley took a step into the room, her skin prickling despite the heat. She ignored it, kept moving until she shoved the window back down. Why was it open? She looked around. The screen was sliced open on the other side.

  “Why did you shut me out, Mommy?”

  She stopped breathing, gripping the windowsill until splinters of wood bit into her fingers. He wasn’t real.

  “Mommy? Why won’t you look at me?”

  She grit her teeth against the uncertainty in that voice. She was going to turn around, and no matter what she saw, she would keep walking out of this room.

  “Mommy, look at me.”

  The door slammed shut behind her. Hayley jerked around to find Danny inches from her. His features were pinched with solemn anger, nostrils flaring as he stared up at her. “Why are you ignoring me, Mommy?” Hayley didn’t answer, pressing herself against the window when the pictures on the walls began to shake.

  Chapter Six

  Anthony heard the door slam. He assumed Hayley was still angry, didn’t think anything of it until the screams started. He rolled off the couch in a mad dash for the nursery. The door was locked, the handle refusing to budge. He shoved his shoulder against the solid wood. He could hear breaking glass and whining wood on the other side, the destructive sounds nearly drowning out Hayley’s panicked shrieks. He took a step back and kicked the door with everything he had, splintering the wood around the lock. The door swung inward to silence.

  Hayley lay in a crumpled heap surrounded by debris. Her arms were up, cradled defensively against her chest as she twitched and shook. He rushed to her, lifting her up into his arms. The nursery was decimated, the pictures shattered, toys torn apart, even pieces of the crib were ripped away. What the hell happened in here? Anthony cradled his wife to his chest and carried her from the room, juggling her far too light body to shut the door behind them. He set her on the couch, checking her over. Deep bruises mottled the length of her forearms, so dark they appeared bloody. He stared at them until the pattern clicked in his head. The bruises were small handprints, a child’s hands. He brushed his fingers over them, trying to explain them to himself.

  “He’s real,” Hayley whispered. He looked down and met her gaze, staring into Mariana’s trench once more. “He’s real.” Tears slid down the sides of her face. She started shivering, likely from shock. Anthony tucked a blanket around her and dialed 911. He didn’t know what else to do for her. He went through the motions, talking to the emergency operator, standing beside her, but not once did he take his eyes from the closed nursery door. Not until the EMTs entered to strap Hayley in and take her away.

  He wanted to ride with her, but he forced himself to stay behind, to gather the small necessities like toiletries, her hairbrush, toothbrush, a change of clothes, things they left behind that night when she started bleeding. He carefully packed them up, refusing to think about the destroyed nursery in the next room because that was something his box could not handle tonight. Not with Hayley heading back to the hospital in worse shape than before. His fingers clenched around the handle of her overnight bag, but he kept it together as he locked their front door and got into the car. He drove to the hospital, refusing to entertain the dark thoughts moving along the fringe of his mind.

  That damn deer was still on the side of the road.

  Chapter Seven

  Her memory played the scene over and over, grainy and crackling like an old timey film:

  Danny grabbed her arms. Danny threw her to the floor. Danny loomed over her, the expression on his youthful face dark, touching a primal instinct inside her that wept in terror as he wrapped his hands around her forearms and squeezed.

  There was nothing sweet in the smile he gave her.

  Hayley sobbed, trembling on the stiff hospital bed. She could hear them murmuring around her, feel them poke and prod, but all she could think about was Danny. He was real; he was so very real.

  “She’s suffering from dehydration, malnutrition, and sleep deprivation. Why wasn’t she admitted earlier? Wasn’t she given any therapy options? What about a follow-up physical?”

  She could hear their questions through the cracked-open door. Anthony mumbled through his responses, uncomfortable by their scrutiny. Shame spiked through her. She’d let her grief consume her, and he paid for it. She’d let that little monster into her home, into her arms, and her heart. She could feel his hooks, sunk deep, pulling away pieces of her. The void pulsed inside her, feeding on the fresh pain. Her Danny was real. The cruelty and selfishness of their encounters was clear now. It made her stomach turn to think of all the times she’d pulled him into her lap without thought. She’d let him in!

  “We’d like to keep her here overnight for observation.”

  Hayley perked up at the words. She felt safe here, away from the nursery and the demon waiting for her. She settled back against the stiff cotton sheets, staring out into the fluorescent-lit hall. They’d left the door open on her request, letting the light spill in. Her body cried out for rest, true sleep, but her mind was still whirring away. She remembered the last time she lay on a hospital bed, the still little face of her son beside her. She never got to hold him.

  She was certain Danny wasn’t her little boy. No, that thing was something else, something dark that crept in while her defense
s were weak. What did it want from her? The possibilities unnerved her. She wanted to call out for Anthony but didn’t, afraid he wouldn’t come. The rift between them kept spreading. She didn’t know how to reach him now, though she needed him so badly. He made her feel safe. She wished she’d reached for him from the beginning.

  Hayley was drifting off to sleep when the hospital door swung closed with a soft click. Her eyes snapped open, struggling to adjust in the near dark. She sat up blindly. Her heartbeat buzzed a tattoo of fear against the inside of her ribs. She looked around, peering hard into the corners, her breath growing short as she turned back and forth, searching every shadow. The scent of wet earth clogged her nose.

  “Why won’t you hold me, Mommy?”

  Hayley shrieked, clapping a hand over her mouth as Danny came into focus, a child-sized spider crouching over her.

  “No, no, no, no,” she murmured through her fingers. “What are you?”

  Danny frowned. “I’m your little boy.”

  Hayley choked on the sob. She could hear pounding on the door, the knob jiggling as the staff tried to get in. What would they find when they did? She wanted to plant her hands over her ears and scream until it was over.

  “You’re not my child,” she said.

  Danny’s expression appeared wounded. “Yes I am, Mommy. I want to be with you forever.” He held out his arms to her, his expression pleading. “Please, Mommy, hold me.”

  “No.” Her voice broke on the word, but she said it, loud and clear for him to hear. “Never again.” The pleading expression melted from his face, replaced by rage that stole the breath from her lungs. She didn’t have enough air to scream when he grabbed her. Not until he squeezed the bones in her forearm, squeezed them tighter and tighter until they snapped.

  Chapter Eight

  Anthony took refuge in the chapel, sitting with his head in his hands. Religion was grace at family dinners and Easter Sunday service, but he was normally not a praying man. Couldn’t hurt now, though. Not when a cadre of doctors looked baffled by Hayley’s broken arm, by those small handprint bruises. None of them could tell him what the hell was wrong with his wife. She looked so broken when they finally pried the door open, her breathing too faint. His feet tapped, unable to keep still. He was going to lose her and so soon after losing their son. His box was strained to breaking. It was a good thing he was in a hospital, because if she died on him, he would lose his shit. A half sob broke from him at the thought.

  “Did you need something, son?”

  He started at the chaplain’s voice. “No, I’m sorry, I was just…” What could it hurt to confide in the man? “Do you believe in the devil, Chaplain? In demons or ghosts?”

  The chaplain gave him a sardonic smile. “Usually comes with the gig.”

  “But do you believe?”

  “I don’t think it’s a matter if I believe, but do you?” The chaplain sat down beside him, arms folded over his chest. “Most people come here for comfort or questions. The first I can offer with ease. The second, well, that is a matter of faith. While I can offer you a listening ear, you need to decide if you have faith or you don’t.”

  “I don’t,” said Anthony. “I don’t really have faith. I don’t believe in demons or ghosts, but there’s something haunting my wife. Something real. Something I can’t see but it’s hurting her. It’s killing her. I—I can’t lose her.”

  The chaplain was silent for a moment, tapping his fingertips on his arms. “You don’t believe it’s real?”

  “No one can see it when it’s there, but the physical evidence is there. The doctors don’t have a clue how to help her. I don’t know how to help her. I can’t fight something that isn’t real.”

  “Maybe to her it is,” said the chaplain.

  Anthony frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

  The chaplain shifted and sighed. “I see a lot as a man of God in a hospital. The ground level view, as it were, to the many miracles of science and how genuinely miraculous the human body can be. How a body can trick itself into healing on placebos, how the mind can manifest our deepest demons for all to see.” The chaplain lifted his shoulders in a half shrug. “Maybe it is a demon or a ghost haunting her, or maybe her grief has manifested as a tangible entity in her mind. A psychosomatic placebo she is convinced can hurt her. She created her own demon.”

  Anthony stared at the man. “Why haven’t the other doctors come up with something like that?”

  “It’s their job to dismiss as many symptoms as possible. They don’t immediately jump to out-of-the-box theories. And don’t take my word for it. I don’t practice medicine, but I do know a thing or two about belief. Belief is powerful drug. Belief can trick the mind into damn near anything.” The chaplain stood, clapping a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “You might not be able to believe in the devil or ghosts, son, but you need to believe in your wife.”

  Chapter Nine

  Hayley was curled on her side when he entered, her broken arm hidden beneath the thin sheet. The concealment mocked him, her bruises dark smudges visible through the cotton, the shape of the cast jutting out at harsh angles. She twitched in her sleep, her IV scrape, scrape, scraping against the fabric, a soft accusation of his failure to her. He lost her in pieces, watching her fade day after day. He allowed that impassable barrier sit between him, let her drown while he festered.

  This was his penance.

  Anthony knelt beside her and closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of her shallow breaths brushing over his cheek. He reached for her, lacing their fingers together, something he hadn’t done since the day he brought her home from the hospital. She whimpered in her sleep. He worried that his touch hurt until she curled tighter around their joined hands, her shallow breaths brushing ghostly light over his knuckles. Seeing her like this was too much. He felt the box inside him bursting at the seams.

  “Don’t leave me.” His voice broke on a sob. Anthony’s shoulders heaved so hard he struggled to keep upright as he clung to her. “Don’t leave me, please. I’m sorry. This is my fault. This is my fault. I-I didn’t know how to reach you. I left you to deal with this alone. I left you alone. I’m so sorry.” He brushed her hair off her forehead with shaking fingers. “Please, please come back to me, baby.”

  He stayed there, shuddering and shaking, until his knees went numb. Hayley’s eyes fluttered open, irises washed out by the overhead fluorescent before they focused on him. The corners of her mouth lifted in a tiny smile. It was the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

  “Hi,” she said. Her voice was faint like the scrape of tape over cloth, but her fingers clutched him tight.

  “Hi, sweet,” he said, relieved laughter in his words. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I heard you,” Hayley whispered. Her eyes filled, spilling tears across the bridge of her nose. “I heard you calling me back.”

  He nodded. “It’s going to be you and me, the whole way back.” He cupped her hand between his. “I won’t hide from you anymore. I promise. I won’t leave you alone again. I’ll be there, all night, all day, and we’ll heal. We’ll come back from this.” When her mouth trembled, he leaned in, brushing his lips across hers. “And when you’re healed, if you want to try again, I will be there with you every step of the way.”

  “Try again?” She hiccupped the words, but there was a hopeful note, a spark darkening her eyes.

  “We lost him,” said Anthony. The words made her flinch, the wound still too raw. “But that is not the end for us. We can still be parents. We have this beautiful future still waiting for us. We just have to move forward, even if we start by crawling.”

  Hayley’s eyes flickered, staring past him over his shoulder. For a moment, her expression went slack. Anthony’s heart turned over in his chest at that expression. He resisted the urge to turn his head and look, but he knew. He knew she saw him. He waited, that tightness strangling his neck in an invisible noose, until she shook herself. She inhaled long and deep through her nose. It was an ancient
sound, swollen with the weight of this moment between them. When she looked at him, her eyes were deep blue and sad.

  “I want to start crawling with you,” she said.

  Relief flooded through his veins, hotter and richer than sunlight, but the chaplain’s words echoed through his thoughts. “Is he gone?”

  That stark vulnerability peered back at him. “You believe he’s real?”

  “You believe he is real, and that is what matters. I don’t want him to hurt you anymore,” said Anthony.

  Chapter Ten

  Anthony did most of the talking the whole ride home. Hayley was fine with that, with long-bottled-up words flowing between them. They laughed and cried and shared secrets, hopes for their future, for the child they would try again for someday. If they did have a boy, they would not name him Daniel.

  The real Daniel was buried, cremated to ashes in the ground. Anthony promised to drive her to the cemetery in a few days and let her mourn at his grave. She needed that. She needed to kneel at the stone and feel the grass beneath her knees. She needed to rub her fingers along the engraving of his name and finally let him go.

  As for the thing that crept into her life using his name, she wondered if Danny was ever real or something conjured by her grief. Anthony believed the latter, that much was obvious, though she wasn’t sure she could convince herself quite yet. Her arm twinged, reminding her of that moment, Danny’s cold fingers wrapped around her forearm, pressing the bones together and the terrible anger in his face.

  Not real.

  He wasn’t real. Hayley couldn’t remember or explain what really happened, but she would push him from her mind until he faded for good. She grinned at the dopey lovely expression on Anthony’s face, leaning toward him to drink in his warmth. The relief and love in his eyes were a balm, sunshine on her soul. The car rolled to a stop.