roommates | darkiplier

Chapter 8

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I didn't know how much time had passed since I woke up. It felt like forever just laying there, a helpless woman. The same presence from my first ordeal loomed over me again, but this time it was different. I could actually feel it, feel it on me, I could feel cold breaths crashing on the back of my neck, something would trace my arms slowly. Goosebumps covered my skin at the thing's ghostly cold contact. Hands, most likely. No one was really there, I hoped desperately that was the case. I was so glad that thing didn't go any further. Eventually my entire body shuttered awake, much to my relief. Except, the thought of this possibly occurring again subdued that joy and replaced it with pure terror.

Desperate for some type of comfort source, I snatched my phone from beneath my pillow and called up Mark. The phone line rang a few times before he picked up.

   "Mark, it happened again." I said shakily as I rested my head on the bed frame.

   "Sleep paralysis?"

   "Yeah, not just that though."

   "I'll be right over." Just the sound of his voice soothed me, it made me forget all my worries and terrible thoughts, and put me in some happy place.

   "Thank you."

   While I waited for Mark to get home, I took Chica out onto the lawn only for her to drop a smelly turd. After using a bag to trash it, I fed her and tossed a couple ice cubes in her water bowl. I toasted some chocolate chip waffles and browsed my phone all the while they were cooking. Once the toaster dinged I flipped them and let them go for one more cycle. With the second alert, I removed them and I threw them onto a paper plate, dousing them with way too much syrup. I grabbed a fork from the silverware drawer, and to finalize my breakfast, I poured cold milk into a cup.

   Mark got home sooner than I expected, as I was just getting to one of the end chairs at the dining room table when he burst through the front door. Chica was the first to greet him, they both exchanged kisses, but Mark headed straight to me. He took a seat next to me, placing his possessions on the table.

   "I got here as quickly as I could." That seemed like an understatement, since I called him if had been— what? Five minutes tops? Christ, did he speed or something?

   He shouldn't've risked a ticket just for some silly conversation. Even risked his own life, what if he got in an accident driving here so fast? There was this question that loomed in my head so much, but every time I thought about it, even for a split second, I pushed it away deeper into the dark place of my mind. Where it's gone, but never ignored or forgotten. The reason why I never asked him right away was because I was afraid of what the answer would be, I didn't want to hear the answer to it or else someone might get hurt, permanently. Why did he care so much about what was going on? He made this one of his top priorities to be there for me, to talk with me about these experiences, but why?

   "You didn't have to do that," I commented, unsure of his rush to get home as I took a bite of my food. "Besides, I wasn't going anywhere."

   Mark released a sigh. "I know I know, but what really matters here is what's going on with you. So, spit it out."

   I actively spat out the waffle in my mouth. He giggled. "Okay but seriously, what was it this time?"

   My smile faded as I recalled every second of what I dreamt. I cut the waffles with my fork and every once and a while, as I shared my tale, I shoved the slimy waffle bits in my mouth.