Page 28 of The Narrow

That was the first day. The last day didn’t really come until I stepped out of the cab and saw Veronica striding toward me.

Or maybe it hadn’t come at all.

I am alone nowcomes the whisper in the rain, and the words write themselves on my bones.

—

When I get inside, I rush my way through changing. I pause in the hallway, listening for Delphine’s footsteps, but the upstairs is silent.

I climb into bed, prop my arm up, and fall asleep to the sound of the rain.

I wake to darkness. I’m staring at the ceiling. My limbs feel leaden, paralyzed. I can’t move. I try to speak, but I can’t. My mouth is locked shut, my words dying in my throat.

At the edge of my vision stands a dark figure. Fear jolts through me, sudden and total. I can’t turn my head, but I make out stringy wet hair dripping onto the floorboards. She’s steeped in shadow. I can’t make out the details, only the shape of her.

The floorboards creak. She comes closer.

I shut my eyes. I can’t even whimper. I canfeelher—the cold of her against my skin. I can hear the dripping water, and thenguh, guh, guh, the wet choking.

I can’t scream. Can’t move. The only decision I can make is to look, and so I squeeze my eyes shut against the sight of her.

The bed creaks. A cold presence hovers over me. Cold water drips onto my cheeks in an unsteady rhythm.

Guh, guh, guh, comes the awful choking sound. Frozen fingertips brush across my arm—

I sit up with a cry of alarm, my heart hammering.

The room is empty. I press a hand to my cheeks. They’re wet, and for a moment, fresh panic surges, but then I realize—I’m crying.

There is no ghost. I am alone and I am unharmed, except for the pain in my arm, suddenly sharp, worse than it has been in days. I must have rolled over on it in my sleep. The dripping of water—it’s the rain against the window.

That’s all.

“Eden?” Delphine calls. A knock sounds from the hall. “Eden, are you okay?”

I stumble from my bed and into the hallway, my arm held close against my side. The lights upstairs are on, spilling down to illuminate Delphine, who stands on the other side of the door.

“I’m fine,” I tell her.

“You yelled.”

“I had a bad dream or something,” I say. “It was like I couldn’t move. There was someone standing over me.”

Delphine nods, concerned but calm. “Sounds like sleep paralysis. Aubrey used to get that. It feels like you’re awake, but you aren’t. You’re sort of dreaming and awake at the same time. It’s supposed to be terrifying, but it isn’t real. You’re awake now. You’re okay.”

Her tone is soothing, almost melodic, and I realize it’s intentional. She’s talking me down. There’s such an exquisite kindness in her voice that it’s easy to believe her.

Sleep paralysis. It fits. I close my eyes, trying to ignore the pain in my arm. My brain summoned up the specter of the DrowningGirl because I’d been thinking of her. It makes perfect sense. “I’m sorry I woke you,” I say.

“You don’t need to apologize. I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Insomnia?”

“Some nights I can tell I’m going to have nightmares,” Delphine says. She rests her fingertips against the glass, her eyes fixed on them.

“I don’t think I want to go back to sleep either,” I confess. I sit against the wall and sink down until I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor. I cradle my arm in my lap.

Delphine looks down at me a moment. Then, without a word, she sits as well. I hear her settling against the wall right on the other side of the door.

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