Nightmares

Episode 3.3

I was staring at him slurping noodles and sipping cola with it. Something is unquestionably wrong going here. Possibly I misheard the clap that day, but I certainly did not put that knife over there. Did Joshua do it? No way. Why would he?

"It was delicious," he said after drinking the remaining broth.

"You hadn't washed your hands?" I said looking at his color-dipped fingers.

"Sorry,"

"Go and wash them," I said picking up the dishes and going to the kitchen.

"Ok," he said

My gaze went to that knife in the kitchen. I took it in my hand and let my head go loose into the thoughts. I went back to the living room, Joshua was on the couch, watching something on my laptop and laughing. I stood in the doorway and stared at him for a while.

"Joshua?" He looked at me. I put aside the laptop and made him sit on my lap. I took a deep breath, "Baby?" I put one hand on his face, another on his back, "If I ask you something, will you answer me honestly?" 

"Yes," he said

"Is there anyone else in this house except us?" I asked tenderly

He remained quiet, "Tell me," I said, he hesitated a bit then nodded. I took a breath again, "Who is it?"

"Someone,"

"Yeah, someone who?"

"G-Ghost," he whispered

I took a long pause. Pondering whether I should believe his words or not. If it's his another childish, little quirk. But the way he said, doesn't seem a lie to me. 

'He is always so honest with me,'

"What kind of ghost?" I asked

"I don't know. They're different each time," he said

"What do you mean?"

"Like how I saw my mother's ghost last night."

"Is there another today?" I asked. He nodded. "How does it look like?"

He looked to the left toward his art room, the door was opened. "Striped shirt. Black and white."

"Huh?"

"Just like a prisoner. It's torn. And...a knife in his hand," Then he got frightened and hugged me, burying his face in my neck. "It  looked at me just now."

I turned my head where he was looking. And as always, found no one. "Do they do anything bad to you?" I asked, seeing how scared he was. He didn't answer me. "Baby?" I patted his head.

After a moment, he reached to my ear and whispered, "They touch me."

I frowned in shock, "Touch you?"

He nodded and turned his face away from me. I took his chin and made him look at me, his eyes were moist with water. "It feels cold on my skin," he said, "I don't like it, I say no, then they hurt me," he showed me his hand with the cut he got the other day. It has turned into a scar now.

My heart sank deep in my stomach. I sighed, closed my eyes, and joined my forehead with his. I don't want to believe it's true. I earnestly do not want it to be true. Someone's hurting my Joshua. Touching him. If it were a living person, it wouldn't be alive today. I would have strangled its neck with my own bare hands.

"Where's it now?" I asked, my voice filled with fury,

He pointed a finger toward the art room, "It's staring at me,"

I got up from the couch, went there, and searched thoroughly. Nothing. For assurance, I thought to check every corner of the house, the kitchen, bathroom, storeroom, then went upstairs to the bedroom. Nothing. I went to the balcony. Nothing. Nothing.

I turned back to go and gasped out of dread to see a silhouette in front of me. For a second I forgot how to breathe. Then exhaled a relief, it was just me, in the bedroom mirror.

I went down, Joshua was still sitting there. "I found no one," I said patiently, although I wanted to scream.

"It's gone now," he said smiling, "They don't come if you're near,"

Okay, I understood now. He sees ghosts and when I go to check, they disappear because he thinks they're afraid of me. I sat close to him, cupped his face in my hands, and stared into his eyes for a minute. He blinks his big Bambi eyes.

"When was the last time you had proper eight hours sleep?" I said each word with weight. I'm pretty sure he hallucinates. The touch he's talking about and all those ghosts he sees. He imagines it. And I have a really good reason -- his lack of sleep.

"I don't remember. Maybe when I was sick," he said

"Four months." I said, "It was four months ago, Joshua."

He averted his gaze from me. "Nightmares don't let me sleep," he mumbles, "What do I do?"

I think I know what to do.

Sleeping pills.

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