Slow, incessant inhales and exhales were the only sounds in my ears. They weren’t moving closer or farther away. They didn’t grow louder or softer. I heard them calmly going in and out of a mouth that wasn’t there.
My eyes failed to adjust to the black, empty stairway. There were no thoughts in my mind. There was just the breathing. A bead of sweat trickled from the crease under my arm ran down the length of my ribcage.
I was reminded of my rigid body. I was terrified of what would happen if I moved but I knew I had to.
I held my breath before shifting my weight to my back foot and gradually easing the heel of my front foot upward. I felt the blood rush through it. I exhaled. I held my breath again as I lifted the ball of my foot from the floor. The breathing continued. I balanced on my planted foot as I steadily brought the other to meet it on the second step. I planted my foot on the carpet and the breathing stopped abruptly.
I bolted. I nearly tripped when my body lurched forward before my feet. I tore through the dark storage room feeling the wall with my hand. The toes of my left foot buckled as they caught on the frame of the door but I felt no pain.
I made it to my bedroom and slammed the door behind me. There was just enough moonlight coming through the tiny window in the corner of the room to see the gleam of the door handle. I stared at it wide-eyed.
There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. Hide from what? What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck.
I stepped back until the back of my calf hit the bed. My eyes were glued to the shining handle, waiting for it to start turning.
My mind raced trying to think of what I should do and of what just happened. This can’t be happening. But it was. My heart pounded hard and fast in my chest.
I waited for movement but the house was silent again. There was nothing. The handle didn’t turn. I stepped back around the bed against the far wall.
Suddenly the silence was broken by the sound of vibrations. I looked up. Someone was trying to call me. I heard my phone vibrating in the kitchen directly above where I stood. My adrenaline spiked again. The intermittent sounds seemed to carry throughout the house. The phone vibrated a few more times before returning the house to silence. I looked back at the handle. It hadn’t moved. I realized I had been holding my breath and consciously inhaled. A visceral scream from above sent a feeling of dread through my entire body.
It was Stephanie. The scream came from the second floor.
The fear of what had just happened on the stairs was quickly replaced with an even deeper feeling of terror. I began crying involuntarily. I took a step toward the door, but I was too afraid to open it. I stepped back. Stephanie.
Tears were streaming down my face. I had to go. I had to get to her. I stepped softly closer to the door. I heard nothing. I took another step. The handle still didn’t move. My vision blurred as more tears came out.
I stepped until I was at the door and leaned my ear toward it. My hand was cupped firmly over my mouth as I tried to keep my own breathing quiet. Random images of Stephanie flashed through my mind. More tears rolled down my face as I reached for the handle.
I turned it millimeters at a time. It turned as far as it could and I started to open the door. I was expecting more breathing but there wasn’t.
I felt my body shaking as I slowly made tiny steps through the storage room. I stopped about ten feet before the bottom of the stairs. No breathing. I took another step and stopped. I continued this until I found myself at the base of the stairs again. The inhales and exhales and their mysterious source were gone. The door at the top of the top of the stairs was still closed.
I slowly took one step at a time hugging the wall of the staircase. I waited for the door to start opening on its own again but it was absolutely motionless. Part of me wished I would hear Stephanie scream again. The silence was excruciating.
I opened the door at the top of the stairs and I was finally able to see. There was no sign of anyone.
I stepped to the base of the stairs looking up to the second floor. There were no sounds of a struggle. There were no sounds at all.
As I got half way up the staircase I could see the top of Stephanie’s partially open bedroom door. I forced myself to proceed.
I leaned hard against the wall making my way down the right side of the hallway, passing my parents’ closed bedroom door. The fear was overwhelming but I kept going. Not a sound.
I felt a cold sweat over my body as I approached the right side of the door frame. I reached around and flipped the light switch. The light went on. I quickly turned and looked into the room.
Everything was in place. Even the pile of folded laundry I had placed on her floor that morning was untouched. Another feeling of dread went through me as I stood in the doorway. “Stephanie?” My voice sounded foreign to me. There was no sign that a person was or had been in the room.
Suddenly I felt cold. The temperature had dropped significantly. I felt sick. Directly behind me there was an exhale.