Pulling on my robe, kept at the end of the bed, I crept to the bedroom door and then paused to listen. The silence of the house screamed in my ears making me feel jumpy. I knew all the doors and windows were locked and that I should be safe inside but being alone made me question my resolve. I thought about my nightly routine in my head, trying to determine if I had indeed locked all could-be entrances or simply imagined it. I admit I had been distracted as I shut the house up for the night. At six months, the baby enjoyed somersaulting around my stomach, especially in the evenings. The nightly kicks and jabs often distracting me enough so that the most I could do was close my eyes and wait until the baby calmed down. Most nights it was three or four bursts of activity usually no more than a few minutes long.
That night the baby had been more forceful and by the end of the session I was breathless from the kicking. But other than that the night had been routine. I put away the dinner dishes, a short task since it was just me; I turned off all but the light above the stove. I checked to make sure both the front and back door were secure, even though I was in the habit of locking the door behind me when I came inside. Then I had headed upstairs.
Shaking my head a little, I told myself all was secured and safe in the house and moved forward into the hall. Nothing to worry about.
The house was less than a year old and there was a lack of creaking floorboards as I eased along the hall to the top of the staircase. I gripped the railing as I went, knowing the big baby belly threw my balance off. I sighed as my hand slid along the dark polished wood, remembering a day a little more than a year ago when He had surprised me with the staircase I had always pictured in the house I had always pictured it in. The sensation of His hands over my eyes, the laughter as I stumbled over the threshold, I could see and feel it clearly. The moment when he finally took his hands away and I opened my eyes. Seeing only him, his excitement in surprising me, his eyes shined and he smiled my favorite smile. The same smile he wore the day we first met; the smile that always left me weak and breathless. I remembered that treasured moment for him and how he was, how we were. The memory was not about the perfect house that we both had loved. But the memory of him. Lately happy thoughts tended to end with sadness or longing when I realized there wouldn't be any new memories with Him. But I was determined to focus on happy memories for the baby's sake as well as my own. I could not dwell on things that would never change. There would be no new memories of Him. When once almost all new memories would feature the two of us together, now I lived knowing the old memories were all I would ever have.
At the bottom of the curved stairs was the front door and even in the dim light trickling down from my bedroom I could see it was still locked and just as it had been a couple hours before.
To the right was the living room, the heavy drapes over the large windows still closed. Stepping into the living room anyways I paused to listen. Almost immediately hearing the sound again, much louder now, I whipped around, knowing now it was coming from the direction of the kitchen.
More cautious, one hand brushing the wall as I walked toward the archway that led to the kitchen. As I got closer I squinted, trying to see if the back door was still secure before venturing in. Only a few feet from the archway I stopped chilled by what I saw. All was darkness in the kitchen, despite the fact the kitchen light was on when I went upstairs. I knew I had left the light on. Trying to rationalize the darkness with reassurances such as I had forgotten to turn it on or the bulb had burned out. But even as I repeated them over and over, dread filled me. Something was wrong. I was alone, miles from any neighbor, and there were scraping noises radiating from the kitchen from an unknown source. I was scared.
But I was also not the same woman who had first come to live here. The first few months were full of new sounds, which is normal in a new house in a new town and He always was my knight in shining armor, checking each time. Since losing him three months ago, now if I wanted to be reassured, I had to check or no one would. So here I was, checking a noise that would of course be like all the rest. Something harmless and obvious that was only scary in the not knowing. These thoughts did nothing to reassure me as I stood frozen in the dark. Telling myself to be brave didn't mean I actually was.
I drew in a deep breath and straightened my shoulders, I would walk in now or never would. If the something making the noise decided to cry out again before I got into the kitchen, I knew I would run as fast as I could the other direction, never to know, never to sleep peacefully again.
Forcing my feet to move forward, one step, then two, all to soon I was in the archway, peering across the space at the backdoor. Which surprisingly, because I had since convinced myself that an axe murdered was lurking somewhere within, was closed and locked as I had left it. I blew out the breath I was holding and took another step into the kitchen. Hearing nor seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I turned left and switched on the overhead lights.
The lights revealed an empty kitchen and I shook my head, a little embarrassed at the overreaction. I moved to the stove to look at the bulb. There was no bulb. I stared in confusion at the empty socket. It didn't make sense, absolutely sure there was a light bulb the night before, and with no recollection of removing it. Changing light bulbs had been his job, since I couldn't reach most of them, so until one burnt out I wouldn't have even thought about touching one. Trying to find a logical reason the bulb was missing when I hadn't touched it and there hadn't been another person in the house for more than two months.
As I turned to face the rest of the kitchen, there was a creak. I froze, knowing each sound of the house after spending many sleepless nights listening. It sounded like the basement door, which was a relatively new sound only a few weeks old and had yet to fix, WD-40 was on my list. It creaked when opened, I wasn't opening so who was. Someone was in the house.
I took the four steps, ready to step through the arch, and collided with a very solid and very human object, to which I promptly bounced off. Before hitting the floor strong hands caught and stabilized me. My eyes moved up to stare. I stopped breathing as I stared into the greenest eyes I've ever seen. In my peripheral vision I saw his hand come up to touch my temple, it was almost a caress and then all was
darkness.
To the right was the living room, the heavy drapes over the large windows still closed. Stepping into the living room anyways I paused to listen. Almost immediately hearing the sound again, much louder now, I whipped around, knowing now it was coming from the direction of the kitchen.
More cautious, one hand brushing the wall as I walked toward the archway that led to the kitchen. As I got closer I squinted, trying to see if the back door was still secure before venturing in. Only a few feet from the archway I stopped chilled by what I saw. All was darkness in the kitchen, despite the fact the kitchen light was on when I went upstairs. I knew I had left the light on. Trying to rationalize the darkness with reassurances such as I had forgotten to turn it on or the bulb had burned out. But even as I repeated them over and over, dread filled me. Something was wrong. I was alone, miles from any neighbor, and there were scraping noises radiating from the kitchen from an unknown source. I was scared.
But I was also not the same woman who had first come to live here. The first few months were full of new sounds, which is normal in a new house in a new town and He always was my knight in shining armor, checking each time. Since losing him three months ago, now if I wanted to be reassured, I had to check or no one would. So here I was, checking a noise that would of course be like all the rest. Something harmless and obvious that was only scary in the not knowing. These thoughts did nothing to reassure me as I stood frozen in the dark. Telling myself to be brave didn't mean I actually was.
I drew in a deep breath and straightened my shoulders, I would walk in now or never would. If the something making the noise decided to cry out again before I got into the kitchen, I knew I would run as fast as I could the other direction, never to know, never to sleep peacefully again.
Forcing my feet to move forward, one step, then two, all to soon I was in the archway, peering across the space at the backdoor. Which surprisingly, because I had since convinced myself that an axe murdered was lurking somewhere within, was closed and locked as I had left it. I blew out the breath I was holding and took another step into the kitchen. Hearing nor seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I turned left and switched on the overhead lights.
The lights revealed an empty kitchen and I shook my head, a little embarrassed at the overreaction. I moved to the stove to look at the bulb. There was no bulb. I stared in confusion at the empty socket. It didn't make sense, absolutely sure there was a light bulb the night before, and with no recollection of removing it. Changing light bulbs had been his job, since I couldn't reach most of them, so until one burnt out I wouldn't have even thought about touching one. Trying to find a logical reason the bulb was missing when I hadn't touched it and there hadn't been another person in the house for more than two months.
As I turned to face the rest of the kitchen, there was a creak. I froze, knowing each sound of the house after spending many sleepless nights listening. It sounded like the basement door, which was a relatively new sound only a few weeks old and had yet to fix, WD-40 was on my list. It creaked when opened, I wasn't opening so who was. Someone was in the house.
I took the four steps, ready to step through the arch, and collided with a very solid and very human object, to which I promptly bounced off. Before hitting the floor strong hands caught and stabilized me. My eyes moved up to stare. I stopped breathing as I stared into the greenest eyes I've ever seen. In my peripheral vision I saw his hand come up to touch my temple, it was almost a caress and then all was
darkness.
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