‘He Comes In The Night’ by Rachel Miller

I’m not gonna look at him, I won’t do it… don’t do it… ok, maybe a quick peek.  I’m scared as hell though.  I don’t really wanna see if he’s still there.  He knows I don’t like him comin into my room at night, I’ve told him. I’m sick of spendin hot minutes under the quilt not bein able to breathe properly.  Most nights I lie in bed facing the wall and pretend it’s not gonna happen again.  If I can’t see him, then it won’t happen… that’s what I tell myself anyway.

Sometimes I fall straight to sleep, those lucky nights don’t come often though, if anythin, he comes more frequently now.  I told me mum about it months ago, but she just thought I was crazy and not to bring it up again, ‘don’t bring it up again’ she smacked me on the back of the head and sent me to me room.  I knew then that I just had to put up with the active nights.

Night time comes round too quick now, an I find myself findin things to do so I don’t have to go up.  I had a bad feeling all day!  I was lying there in my PJs, hot under the quilt again.  I felt like my heart was gonna burst out my chest, and it was so quiet, I was finding myself listenin for things that weren’t even there.  Am I crazy like mum said? No…he’s there, I know it, I’m sure of it, I can sense someone’s there, I wanna look, but I can’t.  Ahh screw it, I dragged the covers off my head, making my hair static, and I saw him…I wish I didn’t look now.

Copyright 2016 by Rachel Miller. All rights belong to the author and material may not be copied without the author’s express permission.

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