I don’t know how I knew it because he never talked, but I knew who he was and where he was from. He came from the early nineteenth century and had lived in Boston. His clothes were smelly and he wore a top hat. His name was Charles. And he was an evil son-of-a-bitch; he’d made sure I knew that right off the bat. Seemed like this had been going on all my life and not just the three months it’d been since we moved here. I loved the old house and my room at the back. I loved it because it was so private, but now maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.
The first time I had seen him I’d thought I was dreaming. It was just a glimpse of a tall man dressed in old clothes and a top hat. Then I began to see him more often and he would leer at me and come closer. It drove me nuts—he couldn’t be real. I didn’t believe in this kind of crap … but then he touched me. It was cold, so cold, but I couldn’t do anything to stop him. The last time he visited, I woke up with him lying on top of me; I opened my eyes and his face was right above me. I couldn’t move and couldn’t breathe and then he kissed me with his dead lips. I can’t get the memory of it out of my mind and I knew this day would come.
He was getting close; I could feel the room getting colder as he got closer, just like it had all the other times he came when I was awake. I began to feel faint and I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and as much as I wanted to just fade away, I couldn’t. I watched in dreadful fascination as his ugly face floated over to me and I was helpless to even move.
Somebody help me! There was no one who could hear the screaming in my mind. Oh, God! Oh, God! No! No! No! He was getting on the bed again, lying down on me with a big grin on his face. Please, let me die! Don’t let him do those things to me again! Please, God, help me!
“You must come with me, my love.”
I knew this was it. I couldn’t see anything but him. I tried to move, but he held me still. My muscles were going numb and it was getting harder to breathe. His cold, dead hand was over my mouth and nose and I could feel myself slipping away. I couldn’t die like this! I didn’t want to be with him in some other … what? What was this? Was I dreaming? No, it’s too real, I thought. I know he’s here. I wondered if anyone would know what happened to me after I was gone. There are no such things as ghosts! But I knew better. There were, and this one wanted to kill me.
It was peaceful and I started to drift off to sleep. It didn’t hurt this time, though, and he began to look familiar, like I’d known him before. Maybe I was supposed to be with him. I wondered what it was like on the other side … I wouldn’t have long to wait. My eyelids were getting heavy and I could hardly open them. I started to feel warm—comfortable. Goodbye everyone, I’ll miss you.
No! I can’t! This isn’t right! I can’t die like this! I had to resist. I had to run. I tried to move again but couldn’t. I looked at him and he looked really pissed off and got off me. I had no idea why. I could move and I jumped out of bed and ran to the stairs. Something tripped me and I fell—he got me after all.
My dad found me at the foot of the stairs—one leg broken and barely breathing. The ride to the hospital scared him; it made no sense because he was unwilling to accept the truth. I couldn’t blame him; I didn’t want to believe it either. He didn’t really want to think about it because all he cared about now was getting me some help. I think he held my hand all the way there but I kept slipping in and out of consciousness and I’m not sure.
Waking up, my body felt numb and heavy. I thought I was dead. I didn’t want to see and kept my eye closed; I didn’t care, nothing mattered anymore. I’d take a look in a moment; there’s no hurry.
My dad must have noticed me stirring and said, “Hi, hon, we’re here. How do you feel?”
Oh my God! Did he get dad too? I thought. No, that’s not fair! I heard his voice again sounding like he was far away and I just had to look.
“Dad?”
“Hi, Jess, Mom’s here too.”
“But … what?”
I saw motion in front of me. The scream came out before I even knew I was screaming. “Please, let me die. Get this over with and quit teasing me!”
“Jessica? I’m Doctor Matthews. You’ve had quite the bump on the head. How are you feeling?”
I opened my eyes again. My parents were smiling at me and it was a doctor, not him. I must not have actually screamed. He looked so kind. It was so good to see my parents. Was this over? God, I hoped so. Just as I was feeling better, and safe, a cold chill passed by my bed. “No!”
“Jess?”
“Let her sleep. She needs that the most. Her body needs to heal, and sleeping is better than any medicine.”
“But she looks afraid!”
“You’re right, Mrs. Calader, but she could just be reliving the accident; when she feels better she’ll be more aware. She’s on a pretty heavy sedative right now. Give her some time.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
After the doctor left, my mom and dad walked to the side of my bed and starting talking but I didn’t
