What Waits Insides

I drive for three hours before I stop hearing Henley's voice from the back seat.

The empty back seat.

By the time I pull into our neighborhood it's past midnight. Streets are dark. Houses sleeping.

Our driveway. His car is there.

I sit with the engine running. Staring at the dark windows. Trying to decide if I should go in.

My phone buzzes. Mom.

"Where are you?"

"Home."

"Is he there?"

"His car is."

"Elisa, I called the police. I had to. You left in the middle of the night and—"

"It's fine. I'll call them. Tell them it's fine."

"What's going on?"

I don't answer. Just hang up.

The house is so dark. Not a single light on.

I get out of the car.

The front door is unlocked. I push it open.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

I step inside. Try the light switch. It works. Kitchen illuminates.

Everything looks normal. Table. Chairs. Coffee cups in the sink.

The basement door is closed.

"Honey? You here?"

No answer.

I walk through the house. Living room empty. Bedroom empty. His phone is on the nightstand. Dead.

Bathroom empty. Garage empty.

But his car is outside. He has to be here.

I'm standing in the kitchen when I hear it.

His voice. Not a whisper. His actual voice.

"Don't go down there."

From the basement.

I walk to the door. Put my hand on it.

"Honey?"

"Please. Don't go down there."

His voice is muffled. Like he's at the bottom of the stairs.

I open the door. Look down. Can't see anything. Too dark.

"Are you down there?"

"Don't go down there. Please. Don't go down there."

Same words. Same tone. Like he's reading from a script.

"What's wrong? Come up here."

"Don't go down there. Please. Don't go down there."

Exactly the same. Like a recording.

I flip the basement light switch. Nothing happens.

"I'm coming down."

"Don't go down there. Please. Don't go down there."

I take one step. The stair creaks.

His voice moves. Now it's coming from behind me.

I spin around. Empty kitchen.

"Don't go down there. Please. Don't go down there."

From the bedroom now.

I walk toward it. The voice moves again. Living room.

"Don't go down there. Please. Don't go down there."

I follow it. It moves to the bathroom.

Then back to the kitchen.

Then the basement.

He's somewhere in this house saying those words over and over but I can never find him.

"Stop it," I say. "Just stop. Where are you?"

"Don't go down there. Please. Don't go down there."

From right next to me. I spin around. Nothing.

My hands are shaking. He's here. He has to be here. But he's not.

"Don't go down there. Please. Don't go down there."

Quieter now. Fading.

I run. Out the front door. To my car.

I sit in the driver's seat with the doors locked. Staring at the house.

He's in there. Saying those words. Over and over. Can't stop. Can't do anything but repeat them.

Something happened to him. Something broke him.

I grab my phone. Should call someone. Police. His brother. Someone.

But what would I say? My husband is in the house but I can't see him and he keeps saying the same thing over and over?

I put my phone down.

The house is still dark. Still silent from out here.

I should leave. Should go back to mom's. Get Henley and go somewhere far away.

But I can't move.

Because the whispers are back.

"...he needs you..."

"...go back..."

"...now..."

Not his voice. Something else. Something that wants me inside.

"...he's dying..."

"...hurry..."

I look at the house. One light comes on. The kitchen.

I didn't turn that on.

"...please..."

I get out of the car. Walk back to the front door.

This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid.

But I open the door anyway.

The kitchen light is on. Everything is exactly as I left it.

Except he's sitting at the table.

Just sitting there. Staring at the basement door behind him.

The door is open. Just a crack.

"Honey?"

He doesn't look at me. Just keeps staring.

Then his mouth opens.

"Don't go down there."

He's looking at me now. Terror in his eyes.

"Please."

I take a step forward. His eyes get wider.

"Don't go down there."

And I see it.

Behind him.

Not a shape. Not something I can't describe.

I see it clearly.

It's me.

Standing behind him. Wearing what I wore yesterday. Same clothes. Same hair.

But wrong. The face is wrong. The eyes are too dark. Too empty.

And it's smiling.

I'm smiling at myself from behind my husband's chair.

"Don't go down there."

He keeps saying it. Over and over. But his eyes are locked on mine. Begging.

The other me tilts its head. Still smiling.

Then it moves. Fast. Around the table. Coming toward me.

I drop my keys. Back toward the door.

The other me is getting closer. Walking like me. Moving like me. But wrong. All wrong.

I hit the wall. Fumble for the door handle.

My husband is still at the table. Still saying those words.

"Don't go down there. Please. Don't go down there."

The other me reaches for me. Its hand is cold. Wrong.

I scream.

Find the handle. Rip the door open. Run.

Out to my car. Engine on. Backing out so fast the tires squeal.

I'm three blocks away before I stop.

Hands shaking on the wheel. Can't breathe. Can't think.

I saw myself. Standing behind him. But it wasn't me.

It was something wearing my face.

My phone rings. Unknown number.

I answer without thinking.

"Hello?"

My voice comes through the speaker.

"...you left him..."

My voice. But not me saying it.

"...he's alone now..."

I hang up. Throw the phone on the passenger seat.

It rings again. Unknown number.

I don't answer.

It keeps ringing.

I'm driving. Don't know where. Just away. Away from that house. Away from whatever is wearing my face.

The phone stops ringing.

Then a text. Unknown number.

I shouldn't look. Shouldn't read it.

But I do.

"Henley wants to know when you're coming back"

My hands go numb on the wheel.

Another text.

"She's asking for you"

No.

Another.

"She's crying"

I dial mom's number. It rings. And rings. And rings.

No answer.

I call again. Same thing.

Another text from the unknown number.

"Too late"

It wants her.

And I left her alone.