The Memories That Haunt Me | Completed ✅

Chapter 3 ~ The Apparition

Chapter 3

When I wake again, darkness surrounds me. The unfamiliar furnishings are nothing more than black outlines, eerily calm in their stillness.

I can still feel the icy touch against my neck, and it makes the atmosphere even more unnerving. So real, it had felt so real, too real to be the effects of a head injury. Then again, what do I know? I don't even know my own husband.

I lay there for what feels like an eternity, each breath shallow, eyes darting back and forth around the room, repeatedly settling at the foot of the bed.

My knees are lifted, and my toes curl inwards as if something will reach out and snatch me away.

I feel ridiculous, but can't shake the sensation. Something is wrong here. The missing photos, the picture flying off the wall, the heavy breathing.

And the touch...

Why had it felt so familiar?

A rattling noise sounds from somewhere within the room, pulling me away from my thoughts and back to my current situation. I strain my ears, listening intently, my pulse erratically throbbing, my heartbeat rivaling the sounds caused by the hurricane.

"Tom?" I call out tentatively. It's nothing. You hit your head. This is all your mind playing tricks on you.

It happens again. This time louder and right beside the bed. My heart comes flying up into my throat, and I scramble in the opposite direction, landing into a heap on the floor. Each breath eludes me, and I have to fight to continue to drag the life giving oxygen into my lungs.

"Laura..." a whispered voice filters through the air.

I squeak, and move further back still, ultimately pressing myself firmly into the corner.

"Laura..." Again, louder this time, sounding eerily similar to the howling wind outside the window.

"What do you want?" I whisper, my voice hoarse and raw.

I wait, and once again the name reverberates through the empty room. "Laura..."

"What's happening to me!" I sob, burying my head into my knees. Did I have a mental illness? Was I insane, and Tom was just hiding the fact from me?

The knees of my pajama pants grow damp with moisture, tears rolling out of the corners of my eyes and saturating the fabric.

Cold fingers caress the back of my neck. "Laura..."

My gaze jerks up and finds an empty space before me. I scramble to my feet, my legs like two limp noodles beneath me, barely able to support my weight as I rush for the bedroom door.

My hand shakes from excess adrenaline as I clasp the knob and pull.

It won't open. I fight it, turning, yanking, pressing a foot to the wall for leverage, but it's jammed.

"Laura..."

"Leave me alone!" I shout, banging a fist against the wooden barrier. "Tom!"

Something jerks me away, pulling me across the room and tossing me back to the mattress. "Get out! Get out! Get out!" Each word is a roar of distorted fury, like a scene from a horror movie I can't remember ever watching.

The handle twists, and a bang comes from the hallway. "Sarah!" Tom continues to beat against the door. "Sarah, honey? Open the door."

"Get out!" The window shatters, curtains billowing out, looking like a ghost in themselves. Debris begins to rush in, the sound of the wind like an approaching train, deafening in its fury.

The door releases, and Tom falls into the room in a heap. "Sarah!" He runs over, gathering me up. "What the hell happened?"

A dam I didn't know I'd built collapses the minute Tom's large arms engulf me, and sobs begin to rack my body. Tortured sounds exit my lungs, echoing out over the howling wind.

Tom gathers me closer, running his hand over my back in comforting circles. "It's okay," he soothes, his voice soft. "I've got you."

I force myself to calm and look at him. Tom gathers my hair into his hand and holds me in place, eyes searching, studying me, looking for injuries that can't be seen.

When his gaze settles down on my lips, I stiffen. Tom doesn't appear to notice my reaction, and continues to lean closer, his mouth moving slowly towards mine. "It's okay," he murmurs again, his voice rougher than before.

"Tom?" I try to pull away, but his grip is too tight.

"Shhh..." His lips brush against mine, like a feather, so soft I barely feel it at all. "I love you, Sarah."

A roar sounds through the air, and Tom is suddenly jerked away, flying across the room like a doll cast aside by a bored child.

More screams threaten to destroy my lungs as I huddle back into the corner.

Tom crashes into the dresser with so much force it causes the the wood to splinter. Mementos and trinkets fall to the floor. His head hits the corner on impact, the blow rendering him unconscious. As his body hits the floor in a heap, I scream again, terrified by the sight of him so still.

"Tom!"

"Laura!" The ghostly voice bellows out in return, sounding as if five people are shouting the word at once, each one tortured, each one desperate.

I bury my face into my knees once more, rocking, shaking, too afraid to run away, frozen in a ball of defenselessness.

The room falls silent, even the storm appearing to cease its rage, and after a few moments, the breathing starts.

Warm and soft, different from before. It caresses my ear, and a whimper escapes my lungs, my muscles tightening to the point of pain.

"Laura..." the voice whispers into my ear, soft, right beside me. "Get out..."

A shudder racks my frame, and I huddle down firmer, my eyes shut tightly in an attempt to simply disappear.

The breathing remains, and with each moment I sit here, it grows more ragged. "Get out!" It roars, loud enough to bust my ear drums, full of fury and rage.

My eyes fly open, a red flag going up at the sound of it, and in my attempt to get away, I see it.

An outline. A man, unclear and out of focus, nothing more than a blur, kneeling down in the space I'd been huddled into only a moment before.

He looks like smoke, white and swirling, his facial features in constant motion, never pausing long enough to let me grasp a clear picture.

I scramble back further, crab walking towards the door. My eyes cut over to Tom, still motionless on the floor. Dark liquid pools surround his face, and I know it's blood. "Tom!" I call over, my eyes darting between him and the ghostly apparition. "Tom! Wake up!"

The apparition stares at me, what little I could make of its face forming into a snarl. "Get out! Get out! Get out!" It doesn't stop, each shout deafens me, drifting across the distance and searing my very soul with its anguish.

I look at Tom one last time before scrambling to my feet and darting out the still open door.