I could feel my blood ice and clot in my veins. The smallest and sharpest of the shards formed and scraped along the inside of my chest, shredding heart muscle and sending my mind into primal panic. Staggering out a choked breath, the warmth of my bed did little to knock out the icicles forming through my fingertips sending out violent shocks of cold backwards through the bones of my sweaty hands into my body only to rattle around and physically shake my huddled form.

The fleeced comfort of the grey blanket could not protect me from what sprang me to such attention. Scouting out into my room the thick darkness only hindered by the smallest of slivers of light peaking around the heavy black curtain, I determined the sound was still at bay. Not yet to the little room but close enough. My adrenaline almost projecting me out of my fetal position and into a skittish stance; daring not to take a step before confirming.

The thunderous crash came over me once again like a tidal wave sending me stumbling back into the small wooden bedside table. The clinking of half-empty glasses disturbed the now silent air. Closing my eyes in frustration at adding to the noise now suddenly completely surrounding me. Hopeful my mistake didn’t alert what now waits for me, I took one step at a time towards the pitch black hallway. Wiping my palms at my side, I closed my eyes to gather my strength before peering around the corner.

“Oh god.”

My instinct to fear was right. I’m my eye-line, through the blotchy dim of the lightless house, illuminated by the outline in the frosted front door was a figure. Unable to clearly make out what stood unmoving behind the door, my moves were wobbly and uncertain. Each lumbering shuffle added a almost painful jolt through my person. Steadying myself against the dusty walls of the hallway and the plastic wrap of the floral sofa, I stopped just feet from the door. Strategically hidden behind the corner of the entryway, another deep breath and skip in my near calcified heart, I slowly turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse of that motionless frame.

No one should be here. I reminded myself as for the first time since this invasion began, my mind began to thaw.

There aren’t any packages today. I reasoned.

The neighbors have never come over. Unless my mail way delivered to them by mistake. Can’t they just leave it at the door? Another small moment of bravely led me to sneak one last peek to ensure it was a polite neighbor. Just as I peripherally landed on the door, another four insistent booms rang out restarting my heart. Defibrillated and slumping down the wall in shock, my mind raced in a sickening frenzy.

They wouldn’t knock three times unless they were waiting for a response. They need a response. Unless it’s a killer. I go to the door and they blow my head off through the glass. Glass is two ways; even frosted glass. Vague shadows and outlines can be made out from the outside, even when shrouded in darkness. I know. I checked. What if I don’t answer and they move to the windows?

My eyes darted to the kitchen window over the full sink. The blinded tightly closed, let in just enough light to be able to detect a shadow move the other side overlooking the front porch. No movement from that corner of the house settled my stomach for a moment before remembering how many other windows were accessible from the front yard alone. The only solution I could string together through the chaos of my thoughts was to keep my eye on the front door; to keep my eye on this visitor.

He’s still there. He hasn’t moved since the last knock. His hands look empty but it’s hard to tell. The gun could be in his back pocket waiting for my to slide the locks out of place, just waiting to push inside and finish me.

The fear sparked the fuel in my mind and sent me sliding down the wall; my legs turning to jelly unable to hold myself up.

The police have to announce themselves. I haven’t done anything. I’m a good person. That monster on the other side of my door is who they should be arresting. But if it’s a police officer he would announce it. What if it isn’t a man? What if it’s a woman who needs someone’s help? That lady on the news a few years ago escaped from a kidnapper and knocked on random people’s doors. She was lucky. She knocked on the right door. If I was-

BOOM BOOM BOOM

My breath caught in my throat as the loudest bangs yet echoed off the dirty walls and crashed into me from every direction. A nauseating churn of sour, writhing of maggots inside my guts hobbled me over, near retching. Covering my ears and heaving my shaking legs into the chest, the defensive position against the wall brought a steady comfort to me. Even being as close as I was to this mysterious phenomenon, I knew I was safe in here.

The door is locked. The back door is locked. All of the windows are locked. I should have gotten that security system. I could have. They work in security they wouldn’t hurt me. Unless they memorize the code or find a way to override it remotely and break in themselves. Find someone standing over me late at night with a gun in my face. Absolutely not!

Unstopping my ears, sitting in the silence, the only sounds possible were faint engines on the highway across the street and my own pulse beating in my neck. Digging my nails into my calves, I used the very last bit of strength in my body to do one last inspection of this suspicious person. And to my surprise, they were gone.

The solace of the empty doorstep began to calm the nerves bouncing around my body. Eyes closed, almost laughing with relief, I slid further down the wall. Laying on my side, knees still hugging my steadying stomach, I couldn’t even bring my eyes to open again.

He could be going for a window. I’d hear him if he did. The floor is so cool. The tile on my face is so welcome.

All thoughts drained from my head as the exhaustion of the day took me. And I let it take me. I let it take me everyday. Every time a delivery driver drops food off at my door. Every time a neighbor knocked to exchange misplaced mail. Every time the outside world tried to beat down that glass and make its way to me. I froze. I shivered. I hid.

The world was filled with terror. Someone looking to steal or kill or worse. And I was the target. I’m that precious object just on the other side of the glass they desperately pound for. Knowing it’s a delivery person or a neighbor changed nothing. They could all kill. They all had bad intentions for me. The world had bad intentions for me. And if I opened the door, if I broke the seal of this sanctum, all hell would flow through and take me with it. Swallow me up in some hideous nightmare. I would not allow it. I would do whatever it took to keep myself and the moment of my death at someone’s hands as far apart as possible.

Realistically, I knew I was safe here. I knew, the door would hold and the windows were secure but I still checked them all throughout the day. I still wouldn’t play music out loud in case it should mask the shattering of glass. I still slept with my bedroom door locked to give myself as much time as possible before my certain demise.

Death would be kept at bay by whatever means necessary. And if that meant shuttering the windows so long they kept layers of dust or only sneaking the door open in a flash to retrieve a package at five in the morning (the statistical lowest point in the day for violent crime) or sleeping with the lightness of a baby doe, I would do it. To me, there were much worse things out there than a little restlessness or self imposed claustrophobia.

The reality of my situation was not lost on me. This house was a tomb. The dark, dank house remained eerily silent at all times. The occasional visitors left without seeing anyone alive. And the neglect of the structure itself spelled out how long it had been since this isolation began. It’s hard to clean in the dark. And taking out the trash was an unacceptable risk. The decay and the stillness were mausoleum-adjacent and exactly how I preferred it. The house was a tomb yes, but a tomb of my making. Within my control.

As a laid myself to rest on the chilled floor of my crypt, finally settled and heart beating in rhythm, the filthy walls and stained popcorn ceiling faded away with the rest of the world. The only time my mind didn’t hold terror in it was this state. The in-between state of the constant worry of what was beyond these walls to the ghosts and other monsters that hunted and terrorized me in my sleep. This moment where reality was it’s thinnest was what I lived for. I was reasonably safe and protected but just outside of in control. My mind had to do the hard work of delivering me into slumber. Into the hands of what waited for me that day. On the yellowed tiles, just as I began to slip in deep, yet another unexpected horror found me again.

At my most vulnerable, this affliction that had found me before rose from the depths of my mind. Reaching out with scalding needle-tipped fingers, tracing a fine bloody scar across the veil separating my psyche from unchecked chaos. Pure undiluted madness. The sharp, mind numbing burn sent an entirely different shock through my system. Another companion that follows in the stead of my isolation and constant alarm. At the outer edge of what makes me, me, it settled. Like a hungry predator, it waits patiently for me at my most unaware. At my most peaceful. Just after my consciousness steadies but before the wall is in place, it lunges. As of yet unable to penetrate the crumbling border, it drags its talons across this veil, moving grey matter in its way but never quite piercing the surrounding tissue.

My only salvation. My only hope was that the veil never tears. That day, it’s projectile found no weakness in the defense. But the searing point of its reach made reality ever less tangible. At least for a minute or two. Experience taught me rousing my mind to focus on sensation would send it back over the line sooner. The air in my lungs. The cool of the tile. The background hum of cars on the highway. The veil would soon enough snap back into form and allow me my respite.

Once in a more relaxed state, my mind, too tired to keep going, allowed itself to shut down completely. Relinquish control to what salivated for me in my slumber. In the dreams, there was no defense or logic just fear. Something internal rather than who turned away from my door. Something that couldn’t actually hurt me. Something to be tolerated. Something to bear.