For the first time since the storm swallowed me, my shoulders loosened, and exhaustion set in.
My eyes floated over to the bed. The quilt appeared clean, a little faded, but so was my existence.
I headed over to the bed and pressed my palm down on the mattress. My body wanted nothing more than to flop down on it.
Until a drip rang through my room.
I froze.
Drip.
Drip.
The sound was faint and hard to locate. It took me a minute to realize it was coming from the bathroom.
Drip.
Drip.
“It’s old pipes, that’s all,” I told myself while staring at the open bathroom door.
The dripping continued, and behind it was something else—the echo of lost laughter.
“No.” I shook my head. “There’s no one there.”
There was no ghost or child hiding in the dark, or sweet laugh waiting to mock me. There was nothing but me and the shadows.
That didn’t stop my heart from flipping when I forced myself to look in the bathroom.
There was nothing other than tile that had gone yellow with age and a cracked mirror above a leaky sink.
Sighing at the dripping faucet, I scolded myself and reached out to tighten the tap.
“There. No more dripping.”
When I turned to leave, I could’ve sworn I heard another drop hit the porcelain.
Refusing to waste what little energy I had on my delusions, I ignored the sound, peeled my wet clothes off, and climbed under the quilt. The blanket was heavier than it looked, not in a bad way but a good one, as if the material were hugging me and keeping me warm while the storm raged outside.
“One night.” I yawned. “That’s all I need.”
Just one night.
December 31, 3:15 am
Aloud crash vibrated through the room, ripping me out of my slumber.
My eyes flew open as my heart jumped and slammed against my ribs.
At first, I passed it off as thunder. The storm was still raging outside in full force. Wind battered the walls while rain slammed against the windows hard enough to rattle the glass.
But then another crash came. Too close to be coming from outside.
I pushed upright and scanned the room, searching the shadow I felt pooling around me. But I couldn’t see anything. The darkness was so thick it seemed tangible, as if I could reach out and touch it. The only light came from the red numbers on the bedside table clock.
3:15
The devil’s hour.
