Page 35 of Unraveling Charlotte

Feeling a little calmer, I relax and slow my breathing. My body sinks deeper into the mattress topper, and finally, I feel myself slipping toward sleep.

Creak…

My eyes pop open, and I blink my heavy lids slowly. The door to my closet is closed. Shadows pool under the door, hiding the legs of my desk. I struggle to understand what woke me. Sleep had just sunk its claws into my consciousness.

Blinking against the darkness, I focus on what I can, but it’s like my body finally found peace and sleep drags me back down. I let go when I remember we have a cat and they are nocturnal creatures. Nothing more.

Creak, thump.

I wake slowly, not entirely sure what woke me. Rolling over, I blink at my alarm clock, reading the green neon lights in the dark bedroom. It’s nearly three in the morning—too early for day, and too late for night. I don’t recall dreaming, just blissful nothingness until something woke me up.

I resist the urge to roll out of bed and check on Milo. I’ve been working on not checking on him to ensure he’s breathing. I only allow myself to check once at night, because when I get up, I have to check every door, and I’m warm right now.

Shutting my eyes against the darkness, I promise myself if I wake up again, I’ll go through my checklist, but right now, the down comforter molds to my body in the most perfect way, and I have no intention of getting up.

I’m just about to fall asleep when something nudges the back of my mind, telling me something isn’t quite right. It’s that same awareness I had a few nights ago.

And that’s when it hits me…

I shoot up in bed, my eyes blinking in the darkness and shooting over to where my night-light should highlight the floor.

All I see is darkness.

It died. That’s all. It’s a basic, simple answer. Isn’t the most logical answer the one that is usually the correct one? Or something like that.

Blowing out a steady breath, I roll up and let my feet drop onto the cold floor. I walk carefully to where the night-light should sit in the plug.

It’s on the floor, the metal prongs gleaming in the darkness. Frowning, I lift the night-light and push it back into the plug, lighting up the small corner of my room.

Awake, I decide to check on Milo. Careful not to hit the creaks in the floor, I walk down the quiet hall to his room and peer through the door.

His own night-light is in the plug, casting stars across the room. His chest rises and falls with steady breaths as his body lies wrapped around the small kitten, who doesn’t even acknowledge me this time.

Relief rushes through me when I see he’s okay. I repeat my earlier steps after backing away and cracking his door open.

Three in the morning is an hour I know well. We’ve become lovers over the years, my anxiety waking me from a dead sleep and forcing my legs to move through the circuit that began after our parents died.

As I go down the steps, I find all the night-lights shining their LED path through the foyer, to the living room, the kitchen, and back to the mudroom. The lighted path eases something inside me, chasing away the anxiety that woke me.

With the doors locked, I turn around, passing the basement door.

Wait… What’s off here?

Taking a step back, I glare at the basement door as though it offended me, and it has, because the chain isn’t on.

Don’t do it, Charlotte. This is how people die in horror movies.

I don’t know how long I glare at that chain, waging an internal war over what to do, before I grip the handle and swing the basement door open. A gust of wind from opening the door hits me in the face, bringing the scent of mildew with it. Holding back a sneeze, I take a moment to control myself before flipping the light on.

A long, steep staircase leads down into the unfinished basement. My canned goods line the wall leading down into the darkness. Nothing is out of place.

Gripping the railing, I step barefoot onto the first step.

This is a terrible idea.

Shivering at the cold that wraps around me, I’m reminded that I’m only wearing a tank top and comfy pants. Below is nothing but dirt and concrete without insulation.

Do I check the basement?

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