The Apartment (Part 2)
After that night, I slept less and less, and that feeling of uneasiness never went away, not really. The apartment became quiet, too quiet, as if it was waiting for something. I began doing strange rituals to quiet my fears, I sprinkled salt around my bed and in my closet, then did the same in my sons room. I slept with the tv on mute for the light, I double checked all doors and windows, sometimes multiple times before settling in for bed. This behavior went on for a good month without incident before I began to relax again and let my guard down. This was a terrible mistake. By now winter had settled in and I had turned the heat on. In this old building, my heat was radiant, coming from ancient looking, clunky radiators in each room that made loud clanging noises. While they were terrible to arrange rooms around, they worked perfectly and much to my relief, never got too hot to touch, which was one less worry to a mother of a very active toddler boy who had to touch everything. Things were back to normal, the biggest scare I'd had in the previous weeks was an evasive mouse that kept taunting me until I got tired of playing by its rules and adopted an adult tabby cat. Dead mice began appearing in my entry way, not just dead, deflated and exsanguinated, in fact I was reasonably certain it was only skin left. The sight was unsettling, I had never seen a cat do that before, but I would dispose of the carcass and another would be in the same place the following morning. “At least this cat doesn't leave her ‘gifts’ on my pillow” I muttered, flinging the thing out the door into a snow bank. This went on for a week, then it stopped suddenly. The few people I spoke to about the things I had experienced up to this point, all had the same advice. “Set up a camera at night” I was not opposed to this idea completely, but I would be lying if I said the idea didn't terrify me. The last thing I needed was to see proof that something sinister was in my apartment, tormenting me. It was just easier to believe that I was going crazy. Then the scratches began appearing. I would wake up and feel a burning sensation on my legs, upon examination, I would find three perfectly aligned bloody scratches on my legs, then my arms and my back. I started hearing faint indecipherable whispers from the corners of any room I was in, and the air in the apartment felt heavy and electrified. I began to question my mental status. One Saturday morning, I awoke when the sun pierced my eyelids. I groggily opened my eyes, blinking away sleep, when a form came into focus on the side of my bed. My breath caught in my throat, I fumbled for my glasses on my nightstand, not taking my eyes off this form. Slipping my glasses on my face, I relaxed for a second when I realized I was seeing my son. Panic returned when I saw he was perched on top of the radiator like a gargoyle, unmoving, expressionless, his eyes appeared dark and empty and were fixed on the wall behind me. I called his name several times before he blinked and a look of fear and confusion washed over his face and he jumped down and scampered into the living room. I didn’t move for several minutes while I processed the event. “sleepwalking” I muttered to myself, before climbing out of bed. He had never done this before but he was only three years old, it was possible he was just beginning this habit. Satisfied with my conclusion, I trudged to the kitchen for coffee and breakfast. I took a seat at my kitchen table and booted up my laptop while my son happily munched on his cereal, watching Spiderman for the millionth time. Sipping on the hot liquid and stealing glances in his direction, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling. He didn’t seem phased by the incident from that morning, he didn’t even seem to remember. During the day, the apartment was bright and sunny, everything about it was normal. The atmosphere was light and it was easy to forget the events that happened there. I went about my day, deciding to make it a lazy Saturday afternoon, I threw the ingredients for chili into my crockpot and played on my laptop while my son watched his favorite movies a few feet away from me (the dining room and living room were the same room), while the smell of chili slowly filled the air. I was feeling better already. When the light began turning a reddish gold and the dinner dishes were cleaned up, I sat in the bathroom while my little boy played in the bathtub, splashing and giggling, the uneasiness crept back in. Someone was watching me, I instinctively stuck my head out the door and looked up and down the cramped hallway outside the bathroom, nothing. I sat back down and tried to ignore the feeling, my son must have noticed it too because he stopped splashing and looked at me seriously for a moment before he said. “What is it mommy? Did the man come back?” This sent chills up my spine. “What man is that sweetie?” I asked, trying to mask my fear. “The man who stands in the corner all the time, the one with the really long fingers” he answered nonchalantly My heart was racing, I swallowed hard. “Do you see him in your room?” I asked, afraid of the answer. “No he never comes in my room, I always see him by the door to outside and in your room mommy, you don’t see him too?” he asked. I felt the air suck out of my chest and I wrapped my son up in a towel, hurrying out of the bathroom to dry him off and get his pajamas on. I let him watch a movie before bed as I set up a dim desk lamp in his room for a nightlight. When I came out, he was already fast asleep on the couch. I covered him up with his blanket and turned the tv off, the living room was plunged in darkness. I ran to the kitchen and flipped on the stove light, making a dim glow across the dining and living room area. The light atmosphere was gone now, replaced by a heavy thickness in the air, I shivered involuntarily and quickly flipped on the light in my bedroom, leaving my door open in case he woke up. I fell asleep that night thinking about the many with the really long fingers, that is when the nightmares began….
(To Be Continued...)
