Short Horror Stories

HELP

A.N =Guys this is a longer story. Totally worth it but you can skip it if you want to read shorter ones.
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"What is sleep but the image of death?"
-Ovid, "Amorum"

***

Mayet sat in the big chair and looked out the window. The curtains were drawn, so there was nothing to see, but she looked anyway. She could hear them talking in the next room. They'd left the door open, so they must have wanted her to hear. "She doesn't sleep," Mayet's mother was saying. "Not more than a few hours at a time, and even then only if I'm in the room with her.

"Last week I left for a minute to make tea and when she woke up and found me gone she started screaming. I've never heard anyone scream like that."

The doctor cleared her throat. "How long has this been going on?"

"Weeks."

"Has your family physician seen her?"

"Yes. He even prescribed something, but she won't take it. That's why he told us to call you. Can you help?"

"We won't know until I talk to her. I'll go introduce myself."

"Should I come with you?"

"It's better if you don't. But you can listen."

"If you're sure..."

"This is what I do, Ms. Bautista. Let me work."

Mayet heard footsteps on the carpet. She sensed, without turning around, the doctor's presence just behind her, and her mother hovering in the doorway. She said nothing. The doctor sat on the floor next to her chair. "Hello Mayet," she said.

Mayet raised a hand in a half-salutatory gesture.

"It's nice to meet you. I've been talking to your mother and some of your friends; a lot of people are worried about you. They think I can help. If we talk a little we can see if they're right."

Mayet fidgeted with her fingers; they were feeling sluggish and tingly. It was something that happened whenever she was going on the third day with no sleep. She licked her lips before speaking: "Are you a psychiatrist?"

"No. There's not really a job title for what I do. You could call me a kind of counselor. I work with teens who are refusing conventional treatment for their problems."

"You're here to make me take the pills."

"I'm here to find out what's bothering you, and hopefully find a way to fix it. I'm not here to make you do anything you don't want to. So can we talk a little?"

Mayet shrugged.

"Why don't you tell me why you're afraid to sleep?"

"I'm not afraid to sleep. I'd love to sleep. It's all I can think about."

"That's good."

"I'm afraid to wake up."

"I'm sorry?"

"Because of the man who watches me."

"...what man?"

Mayet shook her head. The light coming through the curtains was hurting her eyes, though there wasn't much of it. "He's not a man, really. He doesn't even look like a man. He looks like some kind of...dead animal. And he comes into my room and watches me sleep, unless someone else is here."

"I see. And what makes you think this?"

Mayet turned to look at the doctor for the first time, to give her a disgusted look. "Because I wake up and find him here. And because I'm not the only one. My friends...he got them all."