Page 18 of In All My Dreams

This is what happens when I indulge. My instincts fail me at every turn, and I make stupid decisions that shouldn't involve wanting Ian.

I make it to the hallway on wobbly legs, surprising myself by not tripping or falling once on my haste up. The colorful lights from Auden’s room glow brighter tonight since Ian turned off half the sconces on our way down to the library. I peek my head into her room, gazing across the room for ghosts before my eyes settle on her sleeping body. I can’t help but notice the similarities she shares with Ian as she sleeps. Her dark hair in disarray around her pillow. Her lips parted slightly as she silently breathes.

She looks the most like him in this state.

I hear footsteps coming up the stairs, so I rush to the guest room across the hall and close the door quietly behind me. A moment later, there’s a soft knock.

“Georgia, can we talk?” Ian’s voice pleads from the other side of the door. I lean against it and silently cry.

My heart is angry at me for not giving in to it and enjoying the small moment of happiness I had with him for the last few hours.

My brain is high-fiving me for having the strength to walk away.

My soul feels hollow, an empty black hole trying to swallow the rest of me up with it.

There’s another soft knock, vibrating the door that separates us. “I’m sorry, for tonight, for everything,” Ian says, his voicesounding more defeated than I’ve ever heard it since Irene’s death. “I’ll be across the hall if you need anything. Good night, Georgie.”

I press my ear against the door, listening for the telltale sign that he’s shut away in the office, locked in the forbidden room. Too bad I can’t figure out how to forbid my heart from wanting him.

I open my door, leaving it cracked for Auden, and I finally force myself into bed. Turning off the lights and wrapping myself with blankets that still smell like him, I drift into a hazy, regretful, fitful sleep.

Iwake with a jolt when the bedroom door slams shut. I try to lift my head so I can see if Auden came in, but my body doesn’t respond. I’m stuck frozen solid on my back, the navy duvet pooled around my torso and my arms crossed against my chest.

I feel like a corpse, buried alive in the coffin of my own making.

It’s been over ten years since I had a sleep paralysis episode like this. Ian used to wake up next to me and talk me through it, but I don’t have him here to aid me tonight.

Taking shallow, quick breaths, I urge my body to move, to do something, anything but stay motionless. Everything is heavy and working against me while my brain is wide awake. It’s like being trapped in quicksand, only my face isn’t submerged yet.

A strangled noise pulls my attention away from the turmoil of my unresponsive body, and I let out a silent scream while pleading with my body to move.

To get up.

To run.

Because she’s standing there, closer than I’ve seen her in years.

Reaching toward me with skeletal-like hands, the flesh off-colored and pulling away from her bones.

Her hair falling from her scalp in clumps onto her lacy white nightgown.

The nightgown that’s smeared with dirt.

Blood drips freely down her nose, leaving bloody red blotches on her chest, staining the nightgown even more.

I can’t move as I watch in horror as she takes a step closer to me, the white foam from the seizure she had as she died hitting the navy duvet at my feet.

Her arms reach for me, and her lips open wide as she continues to step closer until she’s standing right next to me. I can do nothing but watch in silence as she leans over me, bringing the rotting flesh on her face right next to mine.

“Don’t trust . . . don’t trust . . . protect . . .”she moans, her voice a garbled growl through the white foam as she drips blood onto the pillow.

“Don’t trust . . . don’t trust . . . protect . . .”

She pulls away from me, bringing her fleshy hand to my hair, caressing me, gently, before she disappears through the closed door.

As soon as she disappears from sight, my body convulses as all the feeling comes back. I sit up quickly, turning the bedside light on. Rubbing my hands over my face, then my hair, checking to see if her blood is stained on my pillow.

Nothing.

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