He Came Through the Window

Part 5

[A very short chapter about Ayden, I'll get more out when the inspiration comes back. The song on the side applies to the event in the chapter.]

(Ayden's Perspective)

~~~

As I slipped into unconsciousness that night, my vision faded to black and I was transported to another world away from my bed. The black was consumed by vivid color and clear sound effects. I was six years old again, sitting cross-legged on a cold, leather sofa with a grape juice box in my hand. My little giggles echoed through the living room as cartoon animals on the TV shot themselves from a cannon. I was lost in the cartoons until the phone rang on a nearby coffee table.

I jumped a bit at the ringing sound. Stretching a hand toward the phone, I left it hanging hesitantly in the air for a moment before picking up the phone. "Hello?" I chirped, twirling a finger in the phone's spiral cord.

"Ayden!" The voice sounded familiar.

"Mommy!" I exclaimed, putting the phone even closer to my ear.

"A-Ayden, baby," she stammered through heavy, faltered breathing. I could hear the trembling in her voice. "Listen...listen to me. I love you, Ayden," her voice cracked a little and I could tell the tears were welling in her eyes. "I-I will always l-love you."

A thumping pain drummed against my chest wall, and my eyesbrows furrowed themselves in confusion. "Are you okay, Mommy?"

"I'm-"

There was static on the other line, and as I screamed into the phone for her to come back, my dad ran in the room, dressed in his uniform. He said nothing to me and yanked the phone away.

"Hey!" I whined at him, crossing my thin arms over my chest and turning my expression to a pout.

"Shh!" He snapped, unfazed by my complaining and staring at the screen instead. "Abby!" he shouted into the phone, gripping it tightly in his hands until his fingers turned white. "Abby, answer me!" We heard nothing on the other line. He slammed the phone down and switched the channel to an image of two tall, grey towers a few blocks away from where we lived at the time. Instantly I recognized the buildings.

"That's where Mommy works!"

My father simply made a motion with his hands for me to be quiet as his eyes stayed glued to the screen, where the camera angle was suddenly switching. A small plane came into view and zoomed through the sky. Before I could question it, the plane crashed through the first building.

"Oh, my God..." My father could barely utter those words as he froze on the sofa. With his face stiffened, his dark brown eyes welled with tears.

"Daddy-"

"Sharon!" he cut me off, scrambling to his feet and calling across the hall for our neighbor. "Sharon, get in here!"

My body tensed as I stared at the TV screen. The roar of sirens and distressed cries flooded through the open window, and as confused as I was, something in the back of my mind told me something was wrong. Smoke billowed from the building, and the camera showed civilians in chaos, tears streaming down their faces and some screaming in agony at the event.

Sharon, the fifty-something neighbor from across the hall, could hear my dad even with the door closed. She flung it open and skidded across the floor in her white knee socks. "Mike!" she panted, hands grabbing the back of her neck and face ashen. The bun of grey hair tied high on her head bobbed as she ran up to my father and grabbed his hand. "Oh, God, Mike!"

He pulled his hand away from her and picked up his police belt with trembling hands. Wrapping it around him, his breathing turned to a low wheezing. My father grabbed at his heart and looked at Sharon with desperatation filling his eyes. "Sharon, watch Ayden, please." he bit down on his lower lip and stood like that for a second. "My wife's in that building."

"Go," Sharon told him, resting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him toward the door.

I hopped over the back of the sofa and ran to him, holding my little hands out and hoping he would take them. "Daddy!"

"I'll be back!" Every word was quieter as he ran down the hall and left me standing there with Sharon.

The screaming resumed and Sharon pulled me close to her, and as I turned to the TV, I saw the other tower fall, and the sky was consumed by smoke and flames.

~~~

I bolted awake in a cold sweat, sitting upright and digging my fingernails in the sheets around me. My hair stuck to my damp cheeks as I placed a hand on my heart. The drumming under my hand was heavy and rhythmic as blood boiled in my veins. Breathing heavily, my eyes scanned the darkened room and found nothing threatening. I peered out the window and noticed no smoke or fire, no screaming civilians and no explosions. It had happened once, it wasn't happening again.

My head hit the pillow again as I lay back in the bed, kicking the sheets to the floor. The sweat dampening my body was glistening in the incoming moonlight, and my hand trembled as I reached for my phone. The illuminated screen indicated that it was not long after midnight, and there was no text message saying that Holland was coming. Groaning a bit, I tapped on his contact information and held the phone to my ear.

"Hey, baby," he answered on the third ring, his voice reluctant and drained. "What's up?"

"I had that damn dream again."

"About your mom?"

"Yeah."

I could hear the sound of Holland shifting in his bed and sitting up. "Tell me about it," he said. "How bad was it this time?"

"I heard all the sounds way too well this time."

~~~