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Original story below, but you can find a revamped version in my collection "The Fall of Souls: and six other twisted stories about unlikable people", available on Amazon!
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I’d been a caregiver for over twenty years and I was certain nothing could ever faze me. Working with the elderly, I’d mastered the art of nodding pleasantly through long-winded stories, changing countless diapers, and sponge-bathing bodies from the rail-thin to the obese. I’d maintained a spotless reputation with my unrivalled diligence and superior bedside manner, my professionalism aided by my ability not to get emotionally attached to my clients.
One evening, I received a call from a frazzled lady with a Scandinavian accent who needed a caregiver for her mother as soon as possible. We set up an interview for the next afternoon, and she confessed it would most likely be an introduction to my new position, as she didn’t have time to shop around and told me I came highly recommended.
Her apartment was rather modest, but neat and welcoming, and so was the lady. She was tall, her blond hair short and sleek, and she gracefully pulled off a pantsuit. She introduced herself as Johanna. After a quick chat, she led me to the second of two bedrooms to introduce me to her mother, Clara.
The rosy-cheeked old lady had pale, watery eyes and skin that had enveloped a plumper figure back in the day. She smiled, her pristine dentures framed between thin, creased lips, and I smiled back.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Clara."
She replied in a language I didn’t understand.
"My mother prefers her native Finnish," Johanna said, "but she does speak broken English. She has dementia and Alzheimer’s and can't leave her bed without assistance, which is why I desperately need a caregiver."
"May I know more about Clara’s previous caregiver so I may understand what approach she's accustomed to?"
Johanna frowned, agitated by a memory I'd apparently revived. "Do you know a Mrs. Lee Hu Ming?"
"No, I'm sorry."
"My mother had been under Hu Ming’s care for ten wonderful years before she just up and left two nights ago, locking the door and leaving my poor mother alone while I was away on an overnight business trip.
"I returned yesterday morning to find no signs of violence, theft, or foul play, but no explanation for her sudden departure. I couldn't reach her, so I contacted the police. The investigation is still ongoing, but they believe she fled the country due to perceived danger from her estranged husband."
Johanna let out an agitated sigh. "It was a rude shock. Hu Ming never discussed her troubled relationship and how it might affect her responsibilities. I can't believe she abandoned my mother without notification or consideration. I'm just glad my mother wasn’t permanently affected."
"I'm sorry that happened," I said. "And I'm relieved Mrs. Clara was unharmed. When it comes to my job, I never let my personal life affect my professional one and I'm ready to do all that's required to make Clara’s days comfortable and safe."
Johanna smiled. "Thank you, Mary. All you're required to do is care for her during my work hours and to make sure she doesn’t miss her favorite programs." She handed me a folder. "In there is a contract for you to sign and a list for you to familiarize yourself with."
The next day, I arrived at Johanna’s at 7am sharp, punctual and prepared. After sharing a coffee, she left for work and I attended to mine.
Clara was nothing special, a sweet lady who smiled at my cheerful chatting and soft singing despite not understanding a word. She didn’t give me trouble when it came to her meals, her medications, or her attitude, and she enjoyed watching her game shows and soap operas as I flipped through the channels as per the schedule in the folder.
Every now and then, she would speak up, peppering her words with giggles or gasps depending on what prompted her speech on the television. Most of the time, her comments were in Finnish, but she also butchered pronunciations and flipped syllables in her broken English. Hence, I based my reactions on her demeanor instead of her words as I either gave her a pleasant nod or checked to see if she was in discomfort.
During a commercial for nasal strips, she turned to me with a worried expression and uttered, “Human.”
I frowned and sat up in the recliner beside her bed. “I’m sorry, Clara. Could you say that again?”
“Human.”
I gave her a sympathetic smile, impressed by how a sliver of a memory managed to surface in her crumbling mind. “Oh, no, dear, Hu Ming isn’t here anymore.” I put a hand to my chest. “I’m Mary.”
She gripped the edge of her blanket and gave it a feeble shake, the loose skin on her upper arms swaying. “Human.”
“Oh, humid?” I chuckled, shaking my head at my misunderstanding. “Yes, it is quite humid today. I’ll open the fan.”
It was the middle of summer and an exceptionally hot and humid day. Johanna warned me Clara was prone to chills, so I'd been tolerating the sweat dripping down my back as I waved the folder in front of my face. Now, I turned on the fan, grateful the request came from Clara herself.
The rest of the day went off without a hitch. The following two weeks were just as pleasant and predictable, with Clara commenting on the humidity every few days but, other than that, remaining chatty and cheerful. When she began to recognize me, I felt a sense of pride, despite her deforming my name from “Mary” to “Meerin.”
One Friday afternoon, a hassled Johanna rushed about the apartment, packing. "I have to leave town for the weekend. I'd be indebted to you if you could spend the two nights with Clara. I promise a generous compensation for dropping this on you last-minute."
I rarely accepted the added burden of nighttime duties, but prompted by the monetary incentive, I told her I didn’t mind at all. After I grabbed my emergency overnight bag from my car and let my husband know the recent developments, Johanna handed me the apartment’s keys and a folder detailing Clara’s evening routine before she bid us farewell.
The night was calm and uneventful as Clara and I had our dinner together in front of the television. During a mattress commercial, she commented on the humidity once again. It was a cooler evening, so I removed one of her blankets instead of opening the fan. She wasn't pleased, so I covered her up again and she nodded, patting my hand. These types of indecisive requests are common in my line of work, so I just smiled and tucked her in.
Once Clara’s bedtime hit, she was already snoring. I turned off the television and made sure the apartment door and all the windows were locked before I closed the bedroom door and pulled the curtains together. Although Johanna offered me her own bedroom, I preferred to be near Clara in case she needed me, so I settled in the recliner with a thin duvet and a good book.
After an hour, sleep tugged at my eyelids, and I clicked off the bedside lamp and curled up under the duvet. Lost in my dreams, a crisp breeze startled me as it made my hair flutter against my forehead. I shivered and sat up, alert yet confused …
... and my breath froze in my lungs when I saw a silhouette gliding around Clara’s bed.
It was too tall and agile to be Clara.
I flung the duvet off and jumped up, my pulse racing as I turned the bedside lamp on and grabbed my phone. Squinting against the light, I saw Clara sitting up in bed, clutching her blankets as she squinted back at me.
We were alone.
I scanned the small room with wide eyes. There was no conceivable place for anyone to hide, and the bedroom door was still closed. I flung open the curtains, the window offering a seventh-floor view was still locked.
I rummaged through my overnight bag to retrieve my stun gun and locked the bedroom door, afraid the intruder was still in the apartment. Just as I was about to call the police, I looked up at Clara. She had leaned back into her pillows and was observing me with her pale, watery eyes, confused by my sudden, disruptive behavior.
I soothed her as I checked for any injuries. She was unharmed. I took the time to search the room for any evidence of a physical intruder, but my efforts were unrewarding. Had I imagined everything?
The thought that my career could be compromised by hallucinations was almost as frightening as the prospect of a stealthy intruder. My agitated brooding kept my mind occupied as I tucked Clara back in, turned off the lights, and curled up on the recliner. I kept my phone and stun gun close, but it took awhile for my skin to stop crawling and my heart to settle.
As I was beginning to drift off again, a sudden realization wrenched me back to consciousness: Hu Ming disappeared while Johanna was on a business trip.
That meant she stayed the night.
That meant she had the apartment’s keys.
My fear multiplied as Clara’s complaints replayed in my head. Maybe she wasn’t commenting on the humidity after all.
I jumped back up and turned on the lamp, and Clara grunted in confusion as she rubbed her eyes. I apologized for my disruption and tried to hold a simple conversation with her, asking if it was Hu Ming who was here tonight and if she’d been sneaking in every night. Clara only offered me a sleepy frown.
Not discouraged, I turned on the television and flipped through the channels, hoping to land on any scene that involved people sleeping in beds, which seemed to be her trigger. I found a sleep-aid commercial and turned towards Clara, expectant, only to find her nodding off.
I sighed in frustration as I tucked her in and turned off the lights. I had nothing concrete to base my worry on, just the obscure utterances of an elderly person with dementia and Alzheimer’s, and my implausible, late-night incident.
The only other person who could have answers was Johanna. After checking the time, I decided it was still early enough for her not to worry that she left her mother in incapable hands.
"Good evening, Mrs. Johanna."
"Mary? Is my mother alright?"
"Yes, of course, of course! I only had a simple question I neglected to ask earlier. Does anyone have access to the apartment other than you and me?"
"Why?" she asked, her tone laced with alarm.
"I just want to make sure in case anyone knocks on the door," I quickly explained. "I'm also wondering about Hu Ming and the possibility that she may have the apartment’s keys."
"Oh, I see, thank you for your concern. No, no one has access, no one is expected to drop by while I'm away, and I made sure to change the locks immediately after Hu Ming departed."
Her words were reassuring, but I found myself even more frustrated. After we hung up, I checked the entire apartment top to bottom, stun gun in hand, but I didn’t find anything out of place. I sighed, irritated. I didn’t want there to be any real danger, but I also didn’t want to believe what I experienced was a figment of my imagination.
Deciding to remain awake for the rest of the night, I returned to the bedroom, locked the door, checked the windows, and closed the curtains before I sat on the recliner, my stun gun under the duvet with me. I adjusted my pillow and sighed, hoping Clara’s snoring would keep slumber at bay, but a fragile sleep soon took over.
My eyelids popped open as a crisp breeze wafted over my face again …
… and my disbelieving gaze landed on the same silhouette slinking around Clara’s bed.
Fueled by adrenaline, I sat up and thrust my stun gun towards it without hesitation. Despite its proximity, I didn’t make contact, and I jerked my hand away in fear and confusion, my hasty recoil causing me to fall off the recliner with a resounding crash.
I scrambled for my phone and dialed the police as I lunged for the lamp, stun gun in hand, my muscles tense in preparation for an attack. The lights robbed the room of shadows, and my mouth hung agape as I scanned the area.
Once again, there was no intruder.
The phone was pressed to my ear and I could hear the operator trying to get my attention. It was only when my eyes landed on Clara, bundled under her blankets and weeping as she hugged her trembling frame, that I snapped out of my incredulity.
I reported a break-in and requested immediate assistance as I searched the room and checked if the door and window were still locked.
They were.
I hung up and called Johanna to notify her of the recent developments. She was shaken and said she would take the first flight back home. I then climbed beside Clara and held her tight, consoling her as we waited for the police to show up, my mind racing through improbable scenarios.
The police took my statement and inspected the entire apartment. They dusted for fingerprints, examined every point of entry, interviewed the neighbors, and collected surveillance footage from the hallway and the lobby. I made sure to tell them to also search for hidden doorways or rooms.
I remained by Clara’s side until Johanna showed up early the next afternoon ...
... which was when the police informed us that there was no evidence of a break-in nor any secret portals or concealed chambers with access to Johanna's apartment.
They not-so-gently suggested I had a nightmare, but I stood my ground. I wasn't crazy. I felt the intruder pass by me, the breeze from their swift movements wafting over my face. I saw their ominous silhouette circling Clara’s bed.
I also pointed out that experiencing the same vivid nightmare twice in a row is too big a coincidence, especially a nightmare Clara was aware of. I explained how she had tried to warn me about a nighttime visitor multiple times, uttering “human” as she tugged at her blankets with a fretful expression.
After listening to me in exasperated amusement, the police advised me not to be taken by the words and actions of a person who wasn’t mentally sound.
Johanna, on the other hand, perceived my statement to be a veiled accusation and took offense, pronouncing herself an attentive and loving daughter who would have noticed an evening intruder breaking into her home and causing her mother distress.
Unfortunately, Clara was not able to back me up. The incident had not left any physical marks on her, but it did leave her agitated, the rosy glow no longer brightening her cheeks.
There was something strange going on, and Clara knew it. Perhaps what I presumed to be “human” was actually a Finnish word, or one that was lost in translation, or one that her decrepit mind had twisted, flipped, and warped into something incomprehensible.
I tried to jog Clara’s memory by repeating “human” and showing her bed-centric commercials, but I reaped no results other than upsetting her further. Johanna was not pleased by my conduct, my unfounded declarations, and my disruption of Clara’s safe and reliable routine, and I was promptly fired.
Despite it tarnishing my spotless reputation, I accepted the termination with grace, eager to leave behind the disconcerting mystery of the vanishing intruder.
Although I had always made it a habit not to get emotionally involved with any of my clients, a final look at Clara’s anxious eyes prompted me to give Johanna one piece of advice before I bid her and her mother farewell: spend a night in Clara’s room or invest in a nanny cam.
The End
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(Read on for a Behind the Scenes)