My alarm clock on my bedside table said it was 11:42 at night. Who on earth was ringing our doorbel at this hour?
Was it Ash?
Rebecca?
Someone… else?
I felt a tightness in my chest at that last thought and careful y eased myself out of the bed and over to the window. I peered though it onto the driveway below. The motion detector lights weren’t on and I couldn’t see a car or anyone out there. I listened, hearing the front door open and my mother saying “hel o?” into a darkness that didn’t answer back.
There was a single knock at my own door. I cried out, my heart hammering wildly, and spun around to see a shadow sliding underneath the door and into my room.
“Ada?”
Another knock. My door shook from its singular impact.
“Mom?” Now my voice was shaking.
Another knock, louder this time, as if to shut me up.
“Um, come in?”
I walked over to it, taking silent, slow steps, listening for whoever was on the other side. Whoever it was had knocked three times.
I heard that breathing again.
I paused in mid-stride, then took one more step until I was up against the door. I reached for the handle in slow motion, hesitating before placing my hand on it, afraid of what I might find on the other side. I was always afraid of what I might find on the other side. I knew better now than to chalk up anything strange as pure paranoia.
If I thought there was a monster in my closet, there probably was a monster in my closet.
My eyes flitted to the shadow on the floor. As if to prove my point, the shadow slowly eased back under the doorframe until it was gone.
It was time to find out what was going on.
I grabbed the handle and flung the door open…
Ada was at the very end of the hal way near my parents’
bedroom, the red hot water bottle jostling in her hands.
“I found it!” she yel ed at me. “I got the tap water running until it was pretty hot. What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “Were you just in my room?”
“No, I’ve been looking for this in mom’s closet. Why?”
She came toward me and placed the bottle in my hand. It was hot and soothing and just holding it, and having Ada and her slender company, made my heart beat slower to a comfortable level.
“I thought I heard someone knocking on my door.”
She scrunched up her forehead, the day’s waning makeup crusting a little at the corners.
“I know I heard the doorbel ring three times.” She turned to the stairs and shouted down them, “Mom! Who was at the door?”
“I don’t know, sweetie,” came the response from the kitchen. She sounded a little put out. “Kids playing nicky nicky nine doors, maybe.”
I exchanged a look with Ada. At eleven o’ clock at night?
In this neighborhood? both our eyes seemed to be saying.
My mom appeared and came up the stairs with a tray containing a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup (no chicken chunks), a glass of orange juice and a bottle of Nyquil.
I eyed the NyQuil. “You trying to drug me, mom?”
“It’s to help you sleep. Get back in bed, Perry,” she said, and shooed me into my room. I did as she said and placed the hot water bottle on my pelvis. The cramps had already died down a bit thanks to the pain meds. I swal owed the sticky plastic cup ful of NyQuil, hoping the stuff would make me pass out. My mind was racing and it needed to be put to rest. I was hearing things and seeing things, most likely brought on by my delirious pain of earlier. Most likely.