visitors.
‘Whoever you are you’d better leave this house right now before you get hurt. I’ve got a fucking knife here and I’m going to use it.’
As threats go it wasn’t very convincing. But it did psych me up so that by the time I got to the bottom of the stairs I was ready to take onthe world. But I didn’t have to, because nothing happened. I stopped in the hallway and searched the darkness, but there was nobody waiting to jump on me. The voices continued, though, and it became immediately obvious that they were coming from the living room.
I walked, weak-kneed, towards the living room door, which was open. Had I closed it last night? For the life of me I couldn’t remember. I’d been that tired. When I reached the door I went straight in without hesitating, waving the scissors in front of me in a fierce defensive arc. I halted just inside the door, arm outstretched, heart thumping, wondering why I hadn’t been attacked. I noticed straight away that the television was not on. That came as no surprise. What did surprise me was the fact that the room appeared at first glance to be empty.
And yet I could still hear the voices. They seemed to be coming from all around me, but at the same time they were distant and distorted. How the hell could that be happening?
‘Where are you?’ I shouted. ‘Show yourselves, you fucking cowards.’
And that’s when the voices suddenly stopped. Just like that. One moment the muted chatter of incoherent conversation, the next a profound silence. As I stood there feeling totally freaked out my gut tightened another notch. The silence that pressed against my ears seemed strangely watchful, filling me with a deep sense of dread. After a few moments I heard Nicole coming down the stairs. She called out to me but I was still too wary and confused to respond immediately . Instead, I turned my full attention to the shapes and shadows in the living room. I squinted into the dark, trying to see if there was something I’d missed when I entered the room.
And that’s when I became aware of the figure in the armchair. A small black shape outlined against the light fabric of the furniture. Someone – or something – was sitting not six feet away from me. Motionless. Featureless. And yet terrifyingly real.
A cold prickle of fear swept through me. I tried to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t form in my throat. So I continued to stare at the eerie apparition, feeling sick and shaky and wondering what the hell was going to happen next. But I didn’t have to wait long to find out because the lights suddenly came on and behind me Nicole let out an ear-splitting scream.
12
T he figure in the chair was not an intruder. Or a ghost.
It was Michael.
And that was why Nicole screamed. It was an instinctive reaction to the shock of seeing her son like that and thinking he was dead. I thought so too at first. He was slumped back in the chair in his pyjamas with his head tilted back and his mouth wide open. It wasn’t until I rushed over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders that I realized he was alive and unharmed and in a deep sleep.
‘He’s OK,’ I quickly reassured Nicole. ‘He’s breathing. He’s fine.’
She knelt on the floor in front of him and took his hands in hers.
‘Michael, wake up,’ she said. ‘It’s Mommy.’
I stood up and rubbed knuckles into my eyes. It was surreal. Michael sitting there unconscious when he should have been in bed. The voices that had woken us up and had carried on even though there was nobody in the room. What the hell was I to make of it all?
‘Did you switch on the light when you came in here?’ I asked Nicole.
‘Yes, of course,’ she said without looking round.
While Nicole tried to wake her son I went into the hall. Sure enough the light was on. I looked around for the fuse box, found it high up on the wall next to the front door. All the switches were in the ON position . So why had the upstairs light not
‘Whoever you are you’d better leave this house right now before you get hurt. I’ve got a fucking knife here and I’m going to use it.’
As threats go it wasn’t very convincing. But it did psych me up so that by the time I got to the bottom of the stairs I was ready to take onthe world. But I didn’t have to, because nothing happened. I stopped in the hallway and searched the darkness, but there was nobody waiting to jump on me. The voices continued, though, and it became immediately obvious that they were coming from the living room.
I walked, weak-kneed, towards the living room door, which was open. Had I closed it last night? For the life of me I couldn’t remember. I’d been that tired. When I reached the door I went straight in without hesitating, waving the scissors in front of me in a fierce defensive arc. I halted just inside the door, arm outstretched, heart thumping, wondering why I hadn’t been attacked. I noticed straight away that the television was not on. That came as no surprise. What did surprise me was the fact that the room appeared at first glance to be empty.
And yet I could still hear the voices. They seemed to be coming from all around me, but at the same time they were distant and distorted. How the hell could that be happening?
‘Where are you?’ I shouted. ‘Show yourselves, you fucking cowards.’
And that’s when the voices suddenly stopped. Just like that. One moment the muted chatter of incoherent conversation, the next a profound silence. As I stood there feeling totally freaked out my gut tightened another notch. The silence that pressed against my ears seemed strangely watchful, filling me with a deep sense of dread. After a few moments I heard Nicole coming down the stairs. She called out to me but I was still too wary and confused to respond immediately . Instead, I turned my full attention to the shapes and shadows in the living room. I squinted into the dark, trying to see if there was something I’d missed when I entered the room.
And that’s when I became aware of the figure in the armchair. A small black shape outlined against the light fabric of the furniture. Someone – or something – was sitting not six feet away from me. Motionless. Featureless. And yet terrifyingly real.
A cold prickle of fear swept through me. I tried to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t form in my throat. So I continued to stare at the eerie apparition, feeling sick and shaky and wondering what the hell was going to happen next. But I didn’t have to wait long to find out because the lights suddenly came on and behind me Nicole let out an ear-splitting scream.
12
T he figure in the chair was not an intruder. Or a ghost.
It was Michael.
And that was why Nicole screamed. It was an instinctive reaction to the shock of seeing her son like that and thinking he was dead. I thought so too at first. He was slumped back in the chair in his pyjamas with his head tilted back and his mouth wide open. It wasn’t until I rushed over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders that I realized he was alive and unharmed and in a deep sleep.
‘He’s OK,’ I quickly reassured Nicole. ‘He’s breathing. He’s fine.’
She knelt on the floor in front of him and took his hands in hers.
‘Michael, wake up,’ she said. ‘It’s Mommy.’
I stood up and rubbed knuckles into my eyes. It was surreal. Michael sitting there unconscious when he should have been in bed. The voices that had woken us up and had carried on even though there was nobody in the room. What the hell was I to make of it all?
‘Did you switch on the light when you came in here?’ I asked Nicole.
‘Yes, of course,’ she said without looking round.
While Nicole tried to wake her son I went into the hall. Sure enough the light was on. I looked around for the fuse box, found it high up on the wall next to the front door. All the switches were in the ON position . So why had the upstairs light not
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