Still feeling as though he’s being accompanied by entities unknown, Matthew shudders as he slowly makes his way towards Eve’s bedroom door. Placing his ear to the wood, he remains extremely still. He hears nothing but his own heart beating and is relieved. No sooner has his heartrate begun to regulate than he hears a noise coming from downstairs. Breathing in deeply, he heads towards the staircase. Every single part of his brain is sending alarm bells and telling him not to go towards the noise, but Matthew bravely ignores this and begins to make his way down the spiral stairs. Halfway down, he whispers, “Jess, is that you?”
There is no response. He can hear rustling coming from the kitchen. Matthew starts to feel very afraid. He’s struggling to regain control of his breathing and his thoughts. Surrounded by an eerie darkness, he stands barefoot on a single step in the middle of the staircase. The only slight shimmer of light is coming from the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. As the rustling noise continues, Matthew looks around for something he could use as weapon to defend himself. His eyes fall on the solid-gold picture frame on the entry table. Trying to make as little noise as possible, he slowly tiptoes down the stairs and picks it up. Now closer than ever, Matthew plucks up his courage.
“Jess, Eve, if it’s any of you two in the kitchen, you need to answer me now,” he says, his voice shaky.
Still nothing.
Closing his eyes, Matthew is about to charge his way in when he suddenly hears a humming, which instantly knocks him off track. Again, he says, “Jess?”
Practically shaking from head to toe, he slowly places one foot in front of the other, heading straight towards the kitchen.
“Last chance, Eve or Jess, this isn’t funny.”
Silence.
“Fine, have it your way. One, two, three.”
On three, Matthew courageously charges towards the kitchen door. But as soon as his feet reach the doorway, a gust of wind blows so forcefully that it shoves him across the hallway. Falling onto his back as he lets go of the solid-gold picture frame. It flies across the floor and smashes to pieces. Matthew lands next to the bottom step. His heart feels as though it’s going to burst at any moment. Looking up, he sees a grey mist drifting from the kitchen. The dark mist surrounds Matthew, who is stiff and locked with fear. As he takes in what is happening around him, his eyes protrude from their sockets. He no longer feels in control of his emotions or his movements.
Taking over the room, the mist begins to thicken. It encircles his body and the accompanying dark energy travels deep into his mind. Frozen, Matthew hears a symphony. This calming piece of music is attached to the mist, which is making its way through his eardrums and taking over his sight. Once this deceitful mist is satisfied with the invasion of this petrified soul, its sends for its owner to appear. Standing in the doorway,
She’s back!
She’s standing in the doorway, with her head down low, her jet-black hair hanging past her thighs. Her hair drips a thick black substance. Her whole body is grey and covered in deep wounds that ooze the same sinister black bloody substance, which slowly rolls down her body, landing on the floor. She peers through the gaps in her hair, her lips black with the grotesque slime.
Matthew is still frozen. The only thing he still has is his sight. But he can’t close his eyes, so he’s forced to watch the horrific events taking place. He wants to scream, to run and lock himself away, but Matthew, unfortunately, has no such privilege.
As the black, bloody substance lands on the floor, it slowly begins making its way towards him. Reaching his feet, this evil liquid takes over his once innocent skin tone.
“Ring a’ Ring o’ Roses – her soul is mine. Ring a’ Ring o’ Roses – she’s been chosen for the dark side.”
As the rhyme is sung, the evil entity lifts her head. Her eyes are the deepest blood red. She charges at Matthew, her grey sharp teeth launching towards him. The sickening black bloody substance gushes from her mouth as she throws herself into his mind.
Matthew screams and jumps up with fright, breathing heavily. He looks around and sees that he is back in his bed, soaking wet, and covered head to toe in sweat. In sheer panic mode, he reaches out and turns the lamp on at the side of his bed. Patting his body to ensure he’s in one piece, Matthew slowly looks to the other side of the bed. She’s there. Matthew sees Jess; she’s sleeping peacefully next to him. Feeling a huge sense of relief, he throws himself back on to the pillow and tries to regain control of his breathing and heartrate.
Why does this keep happening? His curiosity gets the better of him and, as he grabs the phone from off the side table, he notices it’s 5 a.m. Wanting answers, Matthew types an internet search: Realistic paranormal nightmares what do these mean? The fourth result grabs his attention. It says, “Shadow Person – Wikipedia.” Clicking the highlighted link, he’s directed straight to the following explanation:
“A sleep paralysis sufferer may perceive a ‘shadowy shape’ approaching when they lie paralyzed and become alarmed.
“One subject says ‘You don’t see shadow dogs or shadow birds etc. You see shadow people. Standing in doorways, walking behind you, coming at you on the sidewalk.’”
Reading this, Matthew diagnoses himself. He is now convinced he’s suffering from a sleeping disorder. Totally drained, he can’t take another night of this insane, horrific ordeal. And so, he decides there’s only one thing for it: he’s going to the doctor in the morning. Putting his phone back on the side table, he lies facing Jess. Taking in her expression and features, he begins to smile. She’s so beautiful. The locket around her neck hangs over her shoulder, glistening. He reaches out and tucks her hair behind her ear. Slowly, Jess begins to wake.
“Shh… Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Opening her eyes, Jess pulls back as she takes in Matthew’s appearance.
“Why are you soaking wet?”
“Shh, go back to sleep. It was just a bad dream, don’t worry.”
Climbing out of the bed, Matthew heads to the en-suite for a shower. Taking off his soaking wet pyjamas trousers and his boxer shorts, Matthew turns the shower on and climbs in. The bathroom fills up with steam. Matthew jumps as he turns around and sees Jess standing behind him. Their eyes lock. The hot water sprays them softly in the face and droplets fall from their lashes and roll down their features. As Jess’s body brushes against Matthew’s body, her skin becomes slippery with soap, like his. Jess reaches up and throws her arms around his neck, passionately kissing him. Her lips travel down his neck, then all the way to his lower abdomen. Unable to hold his voice in any longer, Matthew moans out loud with pleasure. Her hands firmly grasp his thighs and Jess reaches for his hard, erect penis, placing him inside of her mouth. She sucks and allows it to travel to the back of her throat. Matthew groans louder and louder with ultimate pleasure.
He runs his fingers through her hair and grips it, tugging at the roots gently. Jess jumps up and without giving Matthew time to process her next move, she wraps her legs around his waist. Stumbling slightly as he takes her weight, he places one hand on the wall of the cubicle. Fully aroused, he becomes even harder. Kissing him passionately, Jess places her hand in the tight curls of Matthew’s hair. Moaning out loud, she begins tugging hard at the roots and pulls his head back.
“I want you. Give yourself to me, now, Mr Honey,” she whispers directly into his ear.
Breathing heavier and heavier, Matthew surrenders to his urge. Impassioned in the moment, he slides himself deep inside her. The pair begin moaning with gratification as they receive and feel one another. Unable to control his urges, his needs, his desires, he begins forcefully thrusting into Jess as her sexual groaning gets louder. Jess pulls his hair once more and says, “Give yourself to me.”
He desperately tries to hold back, but he can’t do it. As she’s sucking and kissing him on the neck, travelling passionately to his lips, Matthew surrenders to her desires
and sexual commands. Letting out one final moan, he thrusts her hard for the last time and whispers, “I’m coming.”
Feeling his erect penis pulsate inside of her as he lets out his release gives Matthew an intense sense of euphoria. Breathing heavily, Jess drops her legs and Matthew groans as he leaves her body. Regaining his balance, as the cramp slowly eases he squirts soap on his hands and begins rubbing it all over Jess’s body. They’re both smiling. Kissing her once more on the neck, Matthew whispers into her ear, “I think I love you.”
“I know.”
Immediately regretting his words, Matthew blushes. He quickly washes the soap off his body and gets out the shower. In a panic he says, “I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.”
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he heads back into the bedroom.
Jess remains in the shower. Her eyes flame as his DNA travels around her internally. Feeling empowered, she smiles a deceitful smile as she plays with the locket around her neck.
Chapter Twelve
Doctor, I Think I’m Going Insane
Matthew sits on the stiff, red leather, built-in couch in the waiting room at his local doctor’s surgery. Much to his horror, he’s surrounded by poorly patients big and small, who are continuingly coughing and sneezing. Trying to distract himself from the possible illnesses he might contract whilst waiting for the doctor to call his name, Matthew begins perusing the leaflets and general health advice neatly stapled on the walls. There is a detailed display about the possible effects of type two diabetes, with pictures showing general care tips. His attention is suddenly drawn to the small ocean-blue leaflet with tiny pastel multi-coloured fish around the border. He smiles at the title: “Little Fishes Parent and Toddler Group”. His thoughts begin to drift back to a wonderful time in his life and a memory sacredly stored away surfaces.
Lauren is sat with Eve on her lap, with her usual radiant smile plastered across her beautiful face. She’s clapping tiny Eve’s hands together. The group are sat in a circle waiting for the song to start. The introductions begin and each child, along with their parent/parents pretends to be little fish while singing their names. Eve is giggling away and is becoming extremely hyperactive. She’s watching her just as giddy daddy, who simply can’t sit still and behave himself. While the introductions are being made, Matthew is wriggling around Lauren and Eve pretending to be a little shark. Singing along with Eve, he reaches over and grabs at her tummy as she sings her name. Lauren joins in the fun and attempts to save tiny Eve from the little daddy shark.
Matthew hears a sudden loud cough and feels a splutter down his neck, snapping him out of his happy memory and back into reality. He can’t help but think once he leaves the building he’s actually going to be physically ill, as well as mentally challenged. With his patience wearing thin, and his stomach turning at the thought of the germs resting on his neck, Matthew walks across the full waiting room to speak with the receptionist.
“Excuse me… Can you tell me how much longer the wait is, please? I’ve been sat here forty minutes already.”
The receptionist peers over the frames of her glasses at Matthew, with a what-do-you-want-me-to-do-about-it expression on her face, she then looks back at the screen.
“Name?”
“Matthew Honey.”
“You’re next.”
“That’s great, thank you.”
Squirting a generous amount of hand sanitizer onto the palms of his hands and wiping the excess onto his neck, Matthew makes his way back to the waiting room. This time, he decides to sit well away from the serial sneeze offender. Looking around, he sees people from all walks of life: little ones who just refuse to sit still, teenagers continually tapping away on their mobiles, and the rest either look exhausted or have a magazine or book in their hands, potentially to hide from the chaos of the waiting room. As Matthew looks up, something grabs his attention. He sees another informative billboard, this one aimed at mental health. No sooner has he started to read the advice than he hears, “Matthew Honey, please.”
There he stands, at last. Mid-forties, with a full head of thick black hair, along with a few cheeky greys peeping through, the casual-looking doctor wears brown loafers and navy-blue cord pants, with a white and blue floral-patterned shirt, the top button loose. His energy seems relaxed and calming.
Relieved, Matthew looks to the doctor and impulsively says, “Thank God for that.” Turning a slight shade of pink with embarrassment as everyone’s eyes glare at him, he laughs nervously under his breath. He didn’t mean to say the words out loud. He reaches out and shakes the doctor’s hand. “Matthew Honey. Don’t worry, doc, I’m not contagious, I’m just nuts,” he says, once again without thinking.
Matthew lets go of the doctor’s hand. He seems relieved and unsure whether to join in and laugh or call for security. “Not a problem. Mr Honey, would you like to follow me, please? We’re in room four,” the doctor politely responds.
They walk along the narrow airy corridor. The walls are pastel green and look like a coat of paint is long overdue. There are tiny chips and black marks, and you can see where children have run their mucky fingers across the wall. There are images of the most wonderful sights of English scenery hanging at eye level, as well as the occasional medical helpline poster. They arrive at room four. On the brown mahogany door is a beautiful gold plaque that reads, “Dr. Rushmore, GP, BMA”.
“Please, after you.”
“Thank you.”
As they enter the room, which is extremely messy and totally unorganised, Matthew’s OCD makes an appearance. There are heaps of paperwork sprawled out everywhere. Matthew struggles with a strong urge to put some order to the room. A white sheet has been rolled out across the medical bed in the corner of the small space and multiple items of medical equipment are lying around the room. The room has the same relaxed presentation as the doctor himself. Clearly, you don’t receive cleaning and organisational lessons when you qualify to have letters placed after your name.
“Please, take a seat. I’m Dr Rushmore. How is it I can help you today?”
“Erm, well, I don’t know where to start really. Honestly, between me and you, doc, I… well, I think I’m losing my mind.” Placing his head in his hands he continues, “I’m convinced I’m losing it. Have you read through my notes?”
“Yes, I am aware of your situation and can I say, my condolences to you and your family for your loss. It can be hard for anyone to process, losing a loved one. I’m sure you’re not losing your mind. Please explain. I’d like to understand what is making you feel this way.”
Matthew’s shoulders slump and he takes a deep breath in.
“Do you mind if I call you Matthew?” Dr Rushmore asks.
“No, it’s fine, I prefer it.”
“Thank you. Okay, Matthew, let me just say, whatever is said in this room, I want you to know it is completely confidential; please don’t be nervous. My job is to help, not judge.”
Biting the bullet, Matthew says, “Lauren, my deceased wife, well, as you’ll have probably read, she’s been gone for some time now.”
“Yes.”
“Well, doc, since then, I’ve not… how can I say this… Doc, what it is, erm, since Lauren, I haven’t, you know, been with another woman.”
“Okay.” Dr Rushmore continues to make notes as Matthew speaks.
“Well, a few days ago, unplanned and completely randomly, I met a woman.”
“Okay. I see. And how do you feel about that?”
“Well, that’s just it, doc. I can’t get my head around how I feel about it because ever since, I’ve been suffering with terrible nightmares.”
“Okay. What is it you actually mean when you say nightmares: bad dreams, sleep walking, that sort of thing?”
“Oh no, doc, these nightmares scare the, pardon my language, shit outta me. And I’m a grown man. I wake up soaked from
head to toe with sweat.”
“Can you recall what any of these nightmares are about?”
“Yeah, doc, it haunts me, it’s the same thing every night. The most horrific, demonic sort of woman appears. It feels real, it feels as though it’s physically happening to me. I mean, look at my hand – right, so in one of the nightmares I had my chain with a cross on in my hand. The cross cut me. Doc, how’s that happened? Look, you can see these cuts are on my hand, here, now, in real life. And, well, my daughter, Eve, she’s changing too, doc. I don’t know what’s gotten into her, she seems distant. I just can’t explain it. Everything’s changed so much in such a short space of time, ever since I met Jess. I don’t know, maybe it’s too soon, maybe I should just stay alone.” Matthew sighs with frustration and then continues, “You see, doc, this is what it’s like, I’m driving myself insane. I feel mental. I’m constantly arguing with myself.”
Dr Rushmore stops typing.
“Matthew, you shouldn’t use the word mental when talking about yourself. I can see that you’re not ‘mental’, as you put it. What you’re experiencing is perfectly normal. The cuts, can I see them?”
Matthew passes his hand to Dr Rushmore. “Normal?”
“Do you have any idea how this may have happened?”
“Well, the chain I had in my hand, it’s now snapped. It came off in the night.”
“Matthew, there’s really no need to panic. You must have been physically creating the movement whilst you were sleeping, and your mind has performed a reflection of the movement within your dream. Now, tell me, Matthew, would you say you think about Lauren at all during the day, or at night?”
“Dr Rushmore, I think about Lauren non-stop.”
“I believe what you’re experiencing is actually a step forward in the grieving process.”
“Huh, a step forward…”
“Yes. You see, what you are doing, Matthew, is forcing guilt upon your mind; this is natural. You’re thinking of moving on and contemplating creating a new family lifestyle for you and Eve, and as much as you want it, deep down somewhere, you don’t believe you deserve it. You don’t believe you deserve to receive this life, because your deceased wife, Lauren, doesn’t have the same opportunity. It’s perfectly normal. During the day your conscious mind is preoccupied and distracted by the day-to-day activities. It’s a very different story during the night. Night time is when our unconscious mind takes the reins, so to speak. The unconscious mind is what we use to daydream. This is where our imagination is located. Currently yours is choosing to process guilt and portraying your worst fears at night. Would you say you struggle to drift off to sleep?”
The Broken Page 13