by Angie Martin
“This isn’t an episode!” I hiss. “There’s someone outside in my backyard. I heard them.”
“Have you tried your breathing techniques?”
“Please just come now. Please.”
“I am in the car now. I started driving as soon as your sister called me. For now, I need you to try and calm down.”
“How the hell can I do that when someone is trying to get in? How far are you? When will you be here? You need to be careful. Don’t go in the backyard. You can’t come alone. Call the police.”
“Breathe. Take a deep breath.” Aubrie demonstrates into the phone with her own breathing. “In through your nose, out through your mouth, slowly.”
Garbage cans crash in the backyard. I try to scream, but the long, bony fingers of terror slither around my throat and squeeze my vocal chords.
“Adele?”
I wheeze, the only sound I can make. Finally, my lips pucker and I force out the word, “Please.”
“I’m only five blocks away. Where are you?”
“Kiiittccheenn.” The strangled word barely makes it off my dry tongue.
“I won’t be much longer. Breathe in and out.”
Chills cover every inch of my skin as I listen to my therapist talk me through my breathing techniques. Instead of working, my head spins with stars as I hyperventilate. I try to focus on her words, but nothing seems to make it better.
A few minutes later, I hear the words I’ve been waiting for. “I’m here,” Aubrie says. “I’m parking in your driveway. I’m getting out of the car. Come to the door.”
“I… I… can’t move.”
“You can do it. It’s sixteen steps to your front door from your kitchen. That’s nothing. You’ve got this.”
I crawl out from under the table, and my eyes scurry around the kitchen, canvasing each corner. Finding nothing sinister, I rise to my feet with unsteady legs. With a rush of adrenalin, I sprint for the front door, the terror of eyes on my back increases my heart rate. Landing against the front door, I frantically punch numbers on the keypad next to the doorframe and hurry to unlock the bolts. Flinging the door open, the first thing I see are Aubrie’s concerned, dark eyes.
“Breathe,” Aubrie says, walking into the house and shutting the door behind her.
I rush to secure the door, falling against it when I’m done.
“Tell me what happened.”
I point to the kitchen, replaying the doorknobs twisting in my mind.
“Okay, come on.” Aubrie strides to the kitchen.
“Don’t go out there.”
“It’ll be okay. I promise.”
I shake my head and stay tight up against the front door.
The clicks of locks on the backdoor immobilize my body. “Please don’t go out there. There could be… they could be—” The creak of weatherworn steps under Aubrie’s feet muzzle the squeal with which I finish my sentence.
A short moment feels like an agonizing hour, as I wait as still as a statue with my eyes glued to the hands on the grandfather clock tick-tocking in the hallway.
“It’s okay,” Aubrie calls, from the backyard. “You have a raccoon feasting on your garbage. He’s actually kinda cute. Just a little guy.” Aubrie shuts and locks the door, and my eyes shoot to her entering the living room. “It’s okay, hun. He knocked down your cans and made quite the mess. I shooed him away and set the cans back up. Everything’s okay. No one is out there. I even checked behind the house.” Aubrie approaches me with a comforting gaze and reassuring smile.
“Are you absolutely sure?” I shift my eyes to the flashlight dangling from Aubrie’s hand.
“Positive. Have you taken your meds?” Aubrie asks, gripping my wrists and checking my pulse.
“Not yet. I was getting ready for bed.”
“Why don’t you go take them? Then come sit with me, and we’ll talk.”
I nod and shuffle to the bathroom, my head staring at the fading pattern on the linoleum below my bare feet. Leaving the bathroom door open a crack, I reach inside the medicine cabinet and finger the bottles, glancing at the labels in search of my anxiety medication. I tap a round, blue pill out and roll it into the center of my palm. Though intended to help, the pills are just one more reminder of my crazy.
I fill a glass with water and swallow the pill, praying for it to act quickly and relieve the past half hour of built up tension tightening my body. Placing my hand back under the flow of water, I pat my face with the cool liquid while taking in deep breaths. I turn off the water and dry my face on a hand towel, reminding myself that I am safe with Aubrie here.
Back in the living room, I find Aubrie sitting on the sofa and take the seat next to her.
“Better?” Aubrie asks.
“A little.”
“Tell me how this episode began.”
“Wyatt was over.” The smile on Aubrie’s face sends a flash of hope into my heart. “We watched a movie, and he had to leave because he needs to study. He left, and I was going to head to bed. I was doing my rounds, but when I went to check the back door, I heard a loud bang.”
“That little critter made quite the mess.”
“I thought… I just lost it. Every single one of my muscles froze. I couldn’t move. I just fell to the floor.”
“Your fear cripples you in more than just a psychological way.”
“Charlie… she wouldn’t come. I begged her.”
Aubrie rests her hand on my arm, her eyes conveying empathy. “Your sister has to live her own life now that she’s moved out.”
“Everyone’s left me because they can’t handle me. They hate me.”
“No one hates you. Not Charlie, and not your Aunt Margo. They want you to get better, and some of that you have to accomplish on your own, with their support.”
Guilt consumes me at the mention of Aunt Margo, my sole caregiver before, during, and after the tragedy which stole normality away from me. Before my life changed forever, it was Margo, Charlie, and me against the world. We had a happy life filled with late night girl talk, lessons from my deceased mother’s sister, and the mundane routine of high school life.
“Have you heard from Margo?” Aubrie asks.
“She called last week.”
“How’s Florida?”
I shrug. “I suppose it’s great. She’s clear across the country, far away from me and my madness.”
“Your family loves and cares deeply for you.”
“They have a terrible way of showing it.”
“I know you feel that way,” Aubrie says, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Everyone is doing the best they can to adjust to your illness, including you. But, that doesn’t mean they hate you.”
I know her words are true, but it doesn’t ease the hurt in my soul.
“Are your nerves calming?”
“Yeah, some.”
“How did your body react to the panic you experienced when you thought someone was outside?”
My chest tightens at the memory. “I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My heart pounded so hard. I really thought—”
“I know, hun. I know, but it’s all over now. You’re safe. There are going to be bumps in the night, no matter where you live or what you do. You’ve got to try your breathing exercises when you feel out of control. What about flashbacks, did you have any?”
The malicious cackling I heard when crouched under the table sounds in my mind, and I shake my head to free my thoughts from the dreadful snickers. “I saw the… teeth and… heard the laugh again.”
“The same teeth?”
“Yes. They’re horrible. So real.”
“But, they’re not real, Adele. Neither is what you hear.”
“That’s just it though. It was real. It’s exactly like it was that night. The same teeth. Those same menacing chuckles.”
Sympathy creases lines around Aubrie’s full lips. “It’s all in the past. No one’s going to hurt you. You’re safe.”
I nod, although my gut tells me
it’ll never be over. My nightmare and the past will stay with me every second of every minute of every day for the rest of my life.
“I noticed you painted your toenails,” Aubrie says, pointing at my feet. “Did you do that for Wyatt?”
I can’t stop the blush from lighting up my face and neck. “I did, but he never saw.” I shrug. “I wore slippers the whole time he was here.”
A grin claims Aubrie’s mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”
I flinch. “Proud? I just woke you up in the middle of the night after a massive attack brought on by a raccoon.”
“Painting your nails is a huge step for you. It means you’re taking some pride in your appearance. The fact that you did it for Wyatt means you’re thinking ahead now and finding things to look forward to. Your attraction to him may be the crutch you need to step out into the world. Although you should go outside again for yourself, I think that after four years, it’s okay for us to accept victories in any form they come.”
I allow a small smile. “I am attracted to him. I can’t help it. He’s the only one who doesn’t make me feel like I’m losing my mind all the time. Except for you, of course. He seems to understand me.” I lean over and continue in a confidential, somewhat giddy tone. “He asked me out on a date. A real one.”
Her eyebrows shoot up and a grins crosses her porcelain skin. “That sounds exciting! What was your answer?”
My eyes drop with shame. “I declined. I want to go, but…” I swallow my tears, refusing to get overly emotional again about the idea of leaving my house, as I usually do. “One day, I’ll tell him yes.”
“It’s okay for you to take your time,” Aubrie says. “He sounds like he’s an amazing man.”
“He really is,” I say, a bit of confidence flooding my tone. “He’s my best friend, the one person I know I can turn to. I know he cares for me, and I for him. I just hope he’s there when I’m ready to say yes.”
“If he is how you describe him to me, I’m sure he will be there when you’re ready.”
As I smile, weakness from my panic attack falls over me, and my lids grow heavy. I always sleep well after an incident like tonight; that seems to be the only silver lining with my condition.
“I think it’s time you got some sleep.” Aubrie pats my leg in a comforting gesture. “Are you okay with me leaving?”
“Yeah… I’ll be okay.”
Aubrie stands and grabs her flashlight from an end table next to the couch. “Call me if you need to talk, okay?”
I nod and follow Aubrie to the front door. I wave goodbye before locking the door and, once again, setting the alarm. Though quiet once more, the house didn’t seem quite as threatening. After checking all the locks again, I wander back to my bedroom for a good night’s sleep, fingers crossed that all my dreams will include Wyatt.
Chapter Two
A rainbow of neon lights invades the dark, dancing off competing mirrors like a funhouse disco club. I’m lost in the maze, unsure of where my friends have gone. Stacie, Taylor, Lisa, Spencer, and Brent have disappeared behind the haze of fog that came from nowhere.
“Spence?” I call my boyfriend’s name, but receive no immediate response. Sure he’s just around the corner, I peek my head around what I think is another path and end up staring straight at myself from multiple angles. I hate funhouses, circuses, carnivals… anything of the sorts. Too many unknowns lurking in the shadows.
The lights cut out, and I hear a low moan, followed by a screech. The sounds echo around me before falling victim to the deathly dark. My breath cuts through the room unobstructed, as I freeze in place. Only my eyes move, as they dart around the room, searching for any sign of light or life.
A wicked cackling floats through the stale air and finds its way into my ears. I know that sound. The bits of maliciousness and violence contained in the sound have resonated in my mind millions of times in the past years. But, it’s impossible that it’s here now. There’s no way. They’re all—
A crash interrupts my thoughts, and I swivel around to find the source of the noise. Little lights hang in the air, like pixies or fairies giving me a path to follow. Except I’m not in an enchanted forest with fantastical, sweet creatures straight from a Disney film. No, if there are fairies or other mystical things in this funhouse with me, they are the kind with bloody saliva dripping from snarling fangs, eyes glowing yellowish-red, and growls that keep children up for weeks at a time. I couldn’t be so lucky to get saddled with Bambi.
Against every instinct, I follow the trail of lights. I have nowhere else to go, and the room has taken on a sinister feel.
“Spence?” I call out again, hopeful he’ll respond this time. “Stacie? Where are you guys?”
No response again, but I push forward. Then, it hits me. If the men are… gone, then Spence, Stacie, Brent, Taylor, Lisa… they’re—
Spence’s face appears in the mirror right in front of me. I grab my chest and jump back. A relieved smile appears on my face, and a nervous chuckle escapes my lips. “There you are,” I say to the reflection. I look from mirror to mirror, seeing his face everywhere. “Where are you, exactly?”
A high-pitched chuckle answers me, one that shouldn’t be here. My body stiffens again, and Spence disappears from view. “Spence?” My body jerks from mirror to mirror under the pixie lights, searching desperately for a way out of the maze so I can find him. “Spence! Answer me!”
Competing laughs bounce around the room, each one coming from a different direction. I am surrounded. I slide down to a crouching position and wrap my arms around my legs. “Spence?” I whisper one last time, praying for him to appear and save me, though I know he can’t and won’t. No one can save me.
If no one will rescue me, I will have to do it myself. I jump to my feet and run. Somehow, I dodge all the mirrors and find a perfect route to a backroom. A door lit up by pixie lights looms against the wall facing me, but I can’t seem to move to it. Spence lays dead at my feet, his head missing from the raw sinew and bone popping out of his neck. My other four friends are all there, bloody, mangled, and dismembered.
“No!” I scream, the tears streaming. The wicked noises get closer behind me, and a hand grabs my arm. I let out a primal scream.
“Adele!”
The familiar voice calms me instantly. It’s Wyatt.
“Adele, we have to get out of here!”
I nod and wait for his lead.
He tugs on my arm and guides me through the mess of body parts and blood scattered across the floor. We reach the door, and I look to him with graciousness in my eyes.
“I love you, Adele,” he says.
“I love you, Wyatt.”
“Let’s get outta here.”
We both turn toward the door, which flings open, knocking us both backward onto the floor, into puddles of blood. I raise my eyes when I hear the cruel merriment. Dirty-white face paint, smeared red makeup around the mouth, and indecipherable, colored shapes frame the clown’s nose. His used-to-be white clown clothes with blue, flowery buttons down the middle are smeared with my friends’ blood. His lips sneer, revealing those vicious, cigarette-stained, pointed teeth that could tear through bone with ease. In a comical, pinched voice, he says, “Not so fast, boys and girls.”
I scream.
I bounce out of bed, the scream dying on my lips. Leaping from my mattress, I land in the center of my room and twirl around, barely observing my surroundings. I slow my turns and steady myself, facing the door to my bedroom. I heave air in and out of my lungs, as if it’s in short supply. Panic sits on my chest, smothering me once more.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I hear Aubrie’s kind, reassuring voice in my mind. “No… one’s… here,” I gasp while trying to slow my breaths. As I reach the edge of hyperventilating, I remember I’m supposed to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I slap my lips closed and draw a deep breath into my nasal passages. My lungs fill with life-saving oxygen and expel the rest of the unwan
ted air through my mouth. I continue this process until the lightheadedness leaves me.
Though my fingers tingle, I can stand up straight and strong without holding onto anything. I won’t blow over with the slightest puff of wind, and I’m not going to pass out. “It worked!” I shout into my mostly dark bedroom, which is lit up only by my trusty nightlight. Once I started feeling safe to turning off my overhead lights at night, I installed four nightlights in here, but I’ve weaned down to one since Aubrie started treating me three years ago.
I decide to go check out the rest of the house now that I have calmed down from my nightmare. As I move from room to room, I realize everything is exactly where I left it. The doors are all locked up, the windows are secure. Nothing is out of place, and no raccoon is terrorizing my trash cans.
Back in my bedroom, I ease myself into bed and stretch out. “I did it!” I squeal, my insides jumping up and down like a child. “You were able to calm yourself down, and you didn’t need Aubrie or Charlie or anyone else,” I tell myself. “You can do this. You don’t need anyone’s help to get through the night.”
Glancing at the red numbers on my bedside alarm clock, I realize it’s only one in the morning. I hadn’t been asleep long, but the adrenaline from my nightmare and the excitement of stopping my impending panic attack on my own races through my veins. I want to share the news with someone, but don’t want to wake up Aubrie again. Charlie would be furious if I called her this late.
Then it hits me. If I could calm myself down, if I could avoid a panic attack, the next step would be to go outside again. That’s what Aubrie always told me. If I can do this at home, I could do it out there. She said when I was ready, she’d give me a secondary medication to help ease anxiety, but not until then.
I think I’m ready.
I grab my phone without a second thought. I pull up my most recent text from Wyatt and type out a quick response, hitting the send button before I can change my mind. The words stare back at me from the screen: I would love to go out with you Friday night.
My eyes widen. What have I done?! Why did I say that? There’s no way I can leave the house. Not now.
