Horror Stories from Horrified - Volume One (2)

I tuck her into bed, in the spar e r oom beside the study. That was w her e Mum had
w or ked w hen she was w r iting her books. Cooker y, mostly, w ith a few tr avel guides.
Nothing genuinely notew or thy ever emer ged fr om behind that door , but it ear ned
enough to keep the family afloat w hen times got tough. I r each out to touch the
door handle, then w ithdr aw ; I need to keep it together , for the sake of my sister and
Dad. I feel like I am at the edge of a pr ecipice, and that one misstep w ill send me
tumbling dow n into a place I w ill not r etur n fr om.
I find my old r oom, up at the top of the house, and sit on the bed tr ying not to
think of Mum. I had spent the last six months in this bed w hen w e knew the
tr eatment w ould no longer be enough, and that w e should spend w hat little time
w e had left together. I could hear Mum in the r oom below in those days, being sick
and hacking up bits of her self into the toilet. I hear d her gr oan and sob as Dad
car r ied her into the bedr oom after he?d w iped away the mess. Only silence now :
only an absence r emains.
I find I cannot sleep. I check my phone, and a hundr ed messages of sympathy and
sickly sentiment come flooding fr om my inbox and into my lived r eality. I slam the
phone face dow n on the duvet cover , feeling a r ush of anger.
Why can?t they all just leave me alone?
Why do you all need to keep reminding me that she?s not here?
Finally, as the str eet lamps star t to flicker , I feel sleep take hold. It is deep,
dr eamless and exquisite. An opioid slumber that r ocks me gently, evapor ating all
my tensions and thoughts until I am a numb, liquid thing. I do not dr eam of Mum. I
must not dr eam of her. Though the ocean of sleep is calm, the gr eat abyss I fear
lur ks just beneath its sur face.
Knock at the door.
Knock at the bedroom door.
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