'Night Terrors' by Nick Fogg

His key fumbles in the lock. I shrink under the covers. Maybe tonight he’ll just fall asleep.

The bed sags. His alcohol-foul breathing slows. I unclench my eyes.

But the space beside me is empty.

How can it be? I wasn’t asleep.

A hesitant knock at the front door. A wrung-out policewoman tells me there’s been an accident: his car, a tree. Nothing anyone could do. She’s so sorry.

I thank her, turn away. She mustn’t see my heart dancing.

Restless, I strip the bed, let the shower’s warmth caress my body.

As I slide between clean sheets, a whisper slurs from the darkness, “You know I’ll never leave you, don’t you?”

I whisper back, “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

—Previously published in Tortive Theatre’s inaugural #FlashFiction101 competition in 2020.