Protection

Evidence

I wake up by the sound of someone knocking at our bedroom door. It has to be Brandon, but why is he knocking? We don't lock our door. It's so dark in the room I can't even see all the way to the door. The cool floor squeaks underneath my bare feet when I get out of the bed. The knocking is intense and loud, the whole room vibrates with every thud.

"God, what is that?" I quickly turn to my husband's voice. I look at him, then to the door. It's not him who's knocking. The curtains fly due to the sudden wind. "Brandon, who's knocking?" I ask while slowly stepping away from the door.

I know he can't deny it now. He looks to the door, it's almost pitch black but I still see all the color draining from his face. The door opens, slowly, just a small gap.

I swallow loudly when I feel my back hitting the wall. No backing further away for me now. Me and my husband's eyes are wide when we watch a gray hand wrap around the side of the door. A smell of rotten meat settles in my nose, it's so disgusting I feel like I'm gonna throw up.

Brandon's breathing is just as loud as mine when we watch the closet next to the door rise into the air. I hold my breath while watching the hand gripping the door, another grips the doorframe.

Suddenly the closet smashes into the wall, falling into its pieces. Just before the hands can get closer the door slams and it's completely quiet. I stare at the remains on the floor, then at the door. I don't believe in God, but I pray for the fucking door to stay closed.

"I found a team." I say while walking forward towards the bed, my eyes stay on the door. "They have experience with things like this."

"Call them. Now, Ivory." Brandon says. He doesn't look at me. He just lays in the bed, the covers over him.

I look towards him. "Brandon, the phone is downstairs. Whatever that was came from there." When I look into his eyes I realize he's being serious. He really wants me to go down there.

"You can't force me."

He grips my arm and pulls me out of the bed. "Damn wrong, I can."

He doesn't want to stand up, I can feel it. But he does anyway and I can only watch as he drags me to the door. "Please, don't make me go down there." I plead as tears burn in my eyes. I'm not sad, I'm angry and scared. "We can call tomorrow, they're probably not even awake." I look at the clock, "It's 3:33AM, everyone is sleeping now." I beg.

I wrote the number down when I called the church earlier, the paper lies on the living room table. The priest told me the two live in Monroe, which is just half an hour from here. "Go!" he yells while shoving me out the door. I hit my arm and cry in pain, but Brandon doesn't care. He closes the door as fast as he opened it and I'm left alone in the dark hallway.

My hands are shaking so strongly I take three tries to switch on the light. Everything looks normal, but I don't trust my eyes. Neither do I trust my ears, which are only hearing the wind and rain from outside. I can also hear my own sobs, I can't control them.

I hold my arm while slowly walking down the stairs. It's dark down there and I swear I feel a presence, something waiting for me down there. I switch the light on quickly and rush to the telephone. First I call 911, the man on the line told me he doesn't believe me. Maybe he thinks I'm some scared young woman and just need attention.

I look in the living room, it's still dark there because the light switch is inside the room. "You'll be alright." I mutter to myself before I rush in the room, the light is dim but it's better than nothing. I quickly grab the note and rush back towards the front door, the phone is right next to it.

Me dialing the number sounds insanely loud to my ears. To my surprise someone answers just after one ring. "Hello?"

"Thank God you answered. Do you deal with paranormal things? Is that you?" I ask the woman who answered. I hate to be unkind but right now, I really don't have the patience to be nice.

"Yes, my husband and I do. May I ask, who are you?" she asks.

"Oh, sorry. Ivory Scott. I need your help. My husband and I do. Can you please help us?" I ask. She must hear I'm crying, I can barely talk due to the breathing which is insanely difficult.

"Where do you live, hon?" she asks. Her voice is calming and even though I'm still in the same situation, I feel a little less afraid. I tell her my address and she says she can't come right now.

"I don't want you to hang up." I say, sniffling quietly. "You told me you have a husband, where is he?" she asks.

"Upstairs, he sent me to call for help.