Between Sleep And Wake

Creaks

He was there. With those piercing blue eyes. And that mischievous, sinister smile. When she opened her eyes. There he was. His face inches away from hers, his body hovering above her bed. She could feel his breath on her, radiating unwelcome heat.

The laugh he released echoed through the house, drilling into her mind. She blinked a few times, hoping he was a mere illusion. When she opened her mouth to scream, nothing came out. Pure silence. Her desperation and her fears escalated.

Her body itself was paralyzed. As if an invisible force was roughly holding her down, keeping her muscles from reacting, keeping her from physically defending herself.

She tried to scream again, but she couldn't. She wanted to beg him to leave her alone, to stop tormenting her. To let her be. Why couldn't he do that? Why was her harassing her and being cruel to her? She tried to turn her head, but she couldn't. Hopeless, she watched him laugh continuously. She pressed her eyes shut, pressing tight, trying to cancel out his maniacal voice.

Suddenly, it was gone. Wendy's eyes flipped open, seeing the familiar room of book shelves that concealed the majority of the walls around her. She'd slipped into a slumber whilst reading, without even realizing it.

A dream. It was only a dream; nothing else. A dream that sprung into her mind often. It was a terror. A nightmare.

Straightening up in her seat, she stared down at the page she'd been on. Unfortunately, she was too anxious to continue, so she stood up and returned the book to where it belonged on its shelf.

Emma had left for her domestic duties quite some time ago, leaving Wendy at home, entirely alone. Her current state of paranoia had made her fretful. It irritated her that Emma had dismissed her concerns, made a silly joke about it. It wasn't a joke at all.

She heard a slight creak coming from somewhere in the house, and it made her dash out the library room, into the hallway. She stared one way and then the other, hoping to locate the root of the noise.

It came again.

Could it be him?

Although it was also possible that she was imagining things.

Slowly, she walked through the hall, the floors slightly creaking as she did. It was all she could hear now. Those unnerving creaks. It all made her heart beat faster, so loud that it pounded in her ears. Soon, it was the only sound she heard.

As far as she could discern, she was the only person in the house.

It might have been best to ready herself and head to the market for fresh food before going to the office. Perhaps some newly baked bread. An excuse to get herself out of the house. The ambience of the outdoors would be enough of a distraction from her current thoughts.

However, as she stood, pondering this idea, the creaks returned. And she knew it wasn't her own feet causing those familiar noises. She was standing too still.

She swivelled around to return to her room, quickly changing out into warmer clothes. Once she was dressed and had headed outside, she felt a sudden relief. The air was warm but not scorching, a welcoming and comforting heat that consumed her. She no longer felt imprisoned in her own fears.

The market wasn't very crowded and the longer she spent outside, she more she realized it wasn't actually warm. The gentle breeze that blew through the air nipped at her neck and tensed her muscles. But anything was better than staying at home.

She thought it was a good time to purchase some fruit and vegetables too. At every corner, she'd raise the freshest looking apple or tomato to inspect and smell. Since she was out now, she concluded she might as well not worry about buying food later in the week. And she deliberately took her time with her findings. She was in no rush to get home. There were rows and rows of sorted foods, the combinations of meat and greens and baked goods making her hungry.

Once her basket was full, she strolled over to the bread to buy since it was what she'd initially headed to the market for. She was mulling over which kind and what size she preferred.

And then she saw him again.

Now she was completely convinced her mind was playing a joke on her. There was absolutely no way he was in the market, loitering around where the fruits were situated, staring directly at her. Staring with those blue eyes.

Eyes that rich were meant to be comforting. They were meant to be beautiful. But his eyes, despite their brightness, were cold and detached almost. She turned away for a moment, glimpsing at the people around her, the people oblivious about her discomfort and unease.

She kept her eyes darting as a way to keep herself from looking back at him. Her breath had caught her throat; her chest felt compressed. That familiar feeling she resented immensely was eating away at her. She tried to keep her breathing even, but it came out ragged. It worried her; what if someone noticed and thought she was unwell? Her cheeks became  flushed; her heart made those familiar quick beats that made it harder to breathe. It noticed then that she was gripping the basket too tight; the wickee cut into her skin. 

Her eyes shifted back and he was still there. Or maybe the illusion of him was still there. His eyes hadn't turned away from her. He wasn't even blinking, which made her even more agitated. And even while feeling her fears, she couldn't deny his handsomeness.

Swiftly, she left to buy what had filled up in her basket, not wanting to wait for the bread. She walked with her head down, taking breaths to keep her composure intact.

And when she looked back he wasn't there anymore.

Wendy knew it wasn't just a figment of her imagination. A large part of her suspected it was real and he was following her. Of course, he looked older but it was unmistakably him. He wasn't physically distinguished; however, his appearance was far too unprinted in her mind for her to forget him. His blue eyes. His blonde hair. His tanned skin. Even if she had no picture of him and it was entirely based on recollections of her experience and time with him those years ago. When she was young and naive. And all she wanted to be was a homemaker, a happy mother with several children she could tend to. She wanted to grow up and share stories with her kids.

That wasn't her anymore. She had no interest in being a mother or a wife. At age twenty, she had no desire for starting her own family. Her brothers would marry before her. John was nearly on his way now; he had been in a relationship with a woman for almost a year. But Wendy? Wendy was a perpetually single woman.

She was a single woman who had night terrors and crippling anxiety that swirled around her.