“Nic?” he repeated.
She had fallen fast asleep. He grimaced with disappointment, then reached for the light switch to his side and turned it off. He was alone again. Damn! He tried to think of anything other than the woman in the white dress. He flooded his mind with work, trying to remember the names of all the telesales staff. He managed four people. He listed his all-time favorite movies. He then began selecting favorites from different genres, everything from best action movie to best romance. From movies he moved on to music, picking his favorite album, song, and music video.
After a while, his head was filled with only one thing: the presence that occupied his house. God, I wish I didn’t have to deal with this! Why couldn’t he have had just a normal two weeks off work, instead of feeling dread every time he set foot inside the kitchen or took a shower? Why did this have to happen? If only he could have had a little more notice before collapsing at work. At least then he and Nicky could have booked a holiday for a fortnight—someplace where it didn’t rain in the middle of spring, where drinking in the afternoon wasn’t frowned upon and dead people didn’t walk around, scaring the crap out of him. Why did it have to happen to him? Why was he so special?
As the darkness settled in, Richard braced himself for another long night of terror and loneliness.
He closed his eyes tightly and waited for the morning to come.
Chapter 11
Day 11: Friday
Richard opened his eyes and saw that Nicky had already left for work. After lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling in a trance for several minutes, he finally got out of bed. The room, although still daunting, was nowhere near as cold and frightening as last night.
He quickly slipped on a pair of jeans and a tee shirt and left the bedroom, yawning and stretching his arms high as he walked. He was still exhausted, unsure of how much sleep he managed to get. Two, maybe three hours at best.
Entering the bathroom, he stood next to the sink and glared at his reflection in the mirror. Back to work on Tuesday, he thought. Away from this house. Away from Christina Long, or whoever that bitch is. Back to some normalcy. Had he given up on finding the truth? Was he now content with sweeping the problem under the rug? And would going back to work really end his troubles, his sleepless nights? He knew the answer was no, but he had reached the point of hopelessness, and running away from his worries sounded like an appealing option.
Brushing his teeth, he fixed his eyes on the reflection of the open door behind him. He had seen enough horror movies to know that something always appears in the mirror. But at least he would be ready for it. For her.
When he took his eyes off the mirror for a second to spit into the sink, his head jolted back up to see if the coast was still clear. It was.
Maybe she’s sleeping. Do ghosts even sleep? What the hell do they do in-between scaring the crap out of the people? And what if no one’s home to frighten? Do they get bored waiting? I bet she can’t believe her luck, having me home so much. I bet she’s thinking, “Thank fuck for him collapsing—I was about to die of boredom.”
His thoughts trailed off as he finished up in the bathroom.
He shortly left and headed for the kitchen, where a note lay on the worktop. It read:
Morning babe. Hope you slept okay. Some extra things I need from the supermarket: table salt, eggs, salmon, baked beans, tortilla wraps, detergent (the big box), shampoo. Love you loads. Nic x.
He had completely forgotten about doing the shopping. Grabbing the note, he slipped it into his pocket and checked the fridge for anything else they needed when he pulled out the milk to make his breakfast as quickly as possible.