Em was woken by a violent jerk that sent her crashing out of bed and onto the hardwood floor. She lay there and groaned as she tried to drag some air into her lungs. The smell of the wood filled her nostrils, the freezing boards causing the hairs all over her body to stand on end. She could hear her heart beat hammering through the floor. She didn't remember what her dream had been about, but it must have been something if it had thrown her from her bed.
Slowly she raised herself up onto her hands and knees and used the bed to steady herself on her feet. She took her slippers out of the drawer and hugged her night gown tightly around her. Pressing a button on her alarm clock and an automated voice told her that it was nine o'clock. She groaned again and rubbed her visionless eyes. It was way too early for her to get up. She was half considering crawling back into bed, when she felt the first cold breath slither over the back of her neck.
Her knees buckled beneath her and she hit the ground hard. She knelt there, eyes wide, breathing quick. Her hands clenched into fists that went directly to her temples pressing hard, just like she used to do when she was a little girl. The breath touched her again and she had to hold back a whimper. It moved to her ear and a low bone tingling voice growled, "Let him kill her." The horrible violating feeling held her for a few seconds more until it released her with a force that threw her forward onto the edge of her bed, trying to catch her breath. She scratched at her ear and the back of her neck, but it was no use; the feeling wouldn't leave her for hours, if at all. That revolting dirty feeling that made her want to scrape off her own skin. But even then it probably wouldn't leave her. It was more than skin deep.
Eventually she got back to her feet and left the room. She had no desire to sleep anymore. She used the wall to guide her down the stairs and into the kitchen where she switched on the coffee and maker and waited, biting her nails down to the quick. She had only ever been spoken to like that twice in her life; a few minutes ago and when she was eight years old. Right before her parents were murdered.
Let him kill her.
Let him kill her.
"Who?" She whispered to the silent kitchen.