The first time it happened, I woke up in the bathtub under six inches of water. My lungs were drinking instead of breathing and my brain was screaming that I needed to do something, anything, to make it stop. After half a second of terrified thrashing I grabbed the edge of the tub and sat up, sputtering and coughing for a moment before pulling myself over the edge onto the cold tile floor. I still didn’t know what was going on or where I was, but I knew I didn’t want to be near that water any more. It was as though I’d woken up in the middle of a deep, black ocean and was afraid of what might be below waiting to pull me down.
But I wasn’t in an ocean. I was in the bathroom of my apartment. And apparently I’d fallen asleep while taking a bath…? Except I didn’t take baths. I probably hadn’t had a legit bath since I was in elementary school, and I certainly had only used the shower in the three years I’d lived in the apartment. So why the fuck was I in the tub half-drowned?
My first thought was that I’d been sleepwalking. I’d had a problem with it as a kid, but I thought I’d grown out of it. And even at my most active, the most dangerous thing I’d ever done is wake my older brother up by walking around in his room one night. But filling up the bathtub, taking off my clothes, and getting in, all while sleepwalking? That sounded impossible.
I continued to ponder it as I dried myself off and got dressed. My throat was raw from coughing and my lungs burned and hurt. I’m sure it was my imagination, but it seemed like there was a gallon of water sloshing around in my chest. I headed into the kitchen and got a glass of milk, hoping it would coat my throat and ease off the coughing. Pacing around the apartment, I tried to focus enough to figure out what had happened.
What else could it be? Had I gone out and gotten drunk? Or maybe someone slipped me something? But no, I remembered going to bed, and there were no signs on my phone or in the apartment that I’d gotten back up and gone anywhere.
Maybe I was sick or something? Working at the hospital, even in administration, I got exposed to stuff all the time. We all did. So I might just have a cold or flu and it was making me have weird dreams and do weird stuff? Except I felt fine overall and…
The woman. Just then I remembered the woman on the stretcher the day before.
I work in accounts receivable for one of the local hospitals, which usually means I spend my days on the admin floor of the building going through paperwork and processing insurance claims. But there are always times when we have to go to the other floors to either explain a past bill, clear up a dispute as to how a procedure should be coded, or other random boring work shit. Because of that, I knew a lot of the people throughout the hospital and even had a couple of good friends from other floors. The day before the night of the bathtub, I’d been dropping off some new change of information forms at a nurse’s station when I saw my buddy Jackie pushing a woman on a stretcher down the hall.
Jackie was a physician’s assistant, and normally he was very laid-back and cheerful, but his expression was serious and troubled as he glanced toward me. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”
I smiled and nodded to him. “Can’t complain. Just playing paperboy.” I paused, almost wanting to ask him if everything was okay before remembering he was with a patient. I could always shoot him a text later and find out if…
The woman on the stretcher shot her hand out and gripped mine as we met in the hallway. Letting out a small yelp, I looked down and realized for the first time that underneath her sheet she was strapped down to the bed she was traveling on. She’d somehow gotten her arm free though, and her grip on my hand was tight and hot as she began to let out a pealing scream.
“It’s going to get me! It’s going to keep on until it gets me! You have to help me!”
I stood there stunned, half-heartedly trying to pull free as I stared at the yelling woman. She was a little older than me and I’d probably think she was very pretty under normal conditions, but now…with her eyes wide and staring at me as she wailed and tightened her grip on my hand…well, she was terrifying.
But then Jackie was between us, yanking me free and wheeling the woman on down the hall. I stared after them in mute shock for a few seconds before going back to my office with the paperwork undelivered. A few minutes later Jackie texted me apologizing. I asked if the woman was okay. Was she sick with anything? I was concerned about her, but I was also wanting to make sure she didn’t have something contagious. His response was short and to the point.
Nah, man. Just fucked in the head is all. No worries.
I didn’t get much sleep that night, and the next day at work I was pretty much a zombie. To the extent my brain worked at all, I was preoccupied by thoughts of that woman on the stretcher, wondering what was wrong with her. Wondering if my tub episode was some kind of weird late reaction to getting freaked out by her the day before.
I wanted to head straight home after work, get some sleep so I didn’t feel like shit, but unfortunately I’d already agreed to meet my brother at our grandparents’ house. Our grandfather had been dead for five years and our grandmother had followed two years later, but there was still stuff in their garage and attic that needed to be gone through and thrown away. We’d put it off repeatedly, but the week before my brother had called and said he was taking off a couple of days of work and coming down to get it done. Asked if I’d come by and help some in the evenings, to which I said sure. It’d be good to see him and I was happy to help.
All of which was true, at least before I almost drowned myself and didn’t get any sleep. I considered calling him and begging off, but when I got in my car I changed my mind. I could go over and help for a couple of hours. What would it hurt? And if I could push through that, no doubt I’d be tired enough to sleep hard tonight.
And that’s what happened. I went over, we moved shit out of the garage, ate some pizza and drank some beer, and then I went home, falling asleep almost immediately.
And then I woke up breathing poison.
My lungs felt like they were on fire. I was trying to look around, figure out what was going on, but my eyes were burning and watering so bad I couldn’t see anything. Reaching out, I felt around. I was in a car. I could feel the steering wheel, the seatbelt across my waist, and the…yes, the door latch. I tried to open the door but nothing happened. After a moment of panicked fumbling I found the unlock button and tried again. The door opened, though not easily. It felt like something was hanging on the door and it banged into something as I gave a stronger push and threw it wide. I didn’t care. I just needed to get away, get where I could breathe.
I unbuckled the seatbelt and tried to get out of the car, but my legs collapsed under me. I realized with growing panic that I was very close to blacking out, and if I did, I knew I’d never wake up again. I was breathing in exhaust or something, and I had find a way out before it was too late.
Crawling as fast as I could, I ran my hand along the walls until I found what felt like a door. Reaching up, I felt around until I felt a knob and turned it. My heart sped up as cool, clean night air washed against my face. Scrabbling, I made it out into the grass before the black took me over again.
When I woke up the next time, Jackie was looking at me, a worried expression on his face. “Hey, man. How’re you doing?” I blinked, looking around in confusion. I was in the hospital. In a room as a patient. My head was killing me and it felt like I’d gargled with sand when I tried to talk, but I forced the words out anyway.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
Jackie looked uncomfortable as he glanced at the door before returning his gaze to me. “They probably don’t want me telling out about it yet, but…yeah, okay. They found you outside your grandparents’ garage last night, man. You had carbon monoxide poisoning and the car was rigged up like you were trying to off yourself. Hose taped to the window and the exhaust, just like in the movies.” He looked like he was going to try and make a joke before thinking better of it. “Is that what happened? Did you do that trying to kill yourself? Or was it a joke or something maybe?” He seemed to add the last with a bit of hope in his voice.
I frowned, shaking my head before realizing that any motion just made it hurt more than it already was. “What? No! I didn’t…ugh, I didn’t try to kill myself. I didn’t do that at all. I went to bed at home last night and then I woke up…you said I was at my grandparents’ house?”
Jackie nodded. “Yeah, a neighbor went out to take his dog for a piss in the middle of the night and you were out there on the grass. He freaked out and called 911.” He paused, swallowing. “Good thing, too. Doc said you were bad off when they got you in here.” He looked at the door again before continuing. “Look, they have you admitted as a possible suicide attempt. They’re going to keep you for observation for a few hours, but just cooperate with them and it should be cool.” He frowned. “But if you need to talk, man, I’m here. And if you are having problems with suicidal thoughts or something, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. You should talk to me or someone…”
I scowled at him. “I’m telling you, I didn’t do this. I had something weird happen at home the other night too. I thought it was just a freak sleep thing, but now I think someone is trying to kill me.” I raised my hand slowly, every bone and muscle seeming to ache with the motion. “I know it sounds crazy and paranoid, but I swear, someone has to be trying to fake my suicide or something.”
Jackie had stiffened as I talked, the concern on his face slowly being overtaken by fear. “Who talked to you about her?”
I frowned in confusion. “Who her? What are you talking about?”
He sat back in his chair, his face paling. “That woman from a couple of days ago. The one that grabbed you when we passed in the hall. That…” He glanced back at the hall before continuing in a lowered voice. “That’s the kind of crazy shit she was talking about.”
I sat up more, trying to force myself to focus despite my thudding headache. “What kind of crazy shit? I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jackie studied me for a moment before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know. I only talked to her for a few minutes before I got the doc in and he decided she needed a full eval and observation. But she was telling me some story about how she’d found out about some crazy homeless people around the city. Some cult or something. Said she used to work at a shelter and a couple of months ago things went to shit there. A friend of hers disappeared. She got scared and was thinking about selling her shit and moving away, but then one day she came home to find a noose hanging from the ceiling, ready and waiting. Another time she woke up to find she smelled gas in her place. The oven’s pilot light had been blown out and a burner was on.” He stopped and looked down as he rubbed his head. “Look, man, this may just be making you worse. I should shut up.”
“No. No, please. Tell me the rest. I need to know. I need to understand what’s happening to me.”
He shrugged. “Okay. Well, there’s not much else anyway. She got pulled in here after she threw herself—according to her, pushed—in front of an oncoming train. Only reason she didn’t die is because her foot got hung on the edge of platform and she fell down beside it instead. Fucked up her arm pretty good…but I guess not the right one.” He shot me a guilty look. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop her from grabbing you, man. I was freaked out by what she had told me and was trying to keep it together. I should have watched her better. But you have to be logical. There’s no way she’s causing this.”
I gave a slight shrug. “I’m not saying it’s magic or something. But maybe she’s crazy and somehow fixated on me. Has someone on the outside fucking with me to make you believe her crazy story? I don’t know, I’m just trying to…what’s wrong?”
Jackie shook his head. “She’s dead, man. I’m sorry, but she’s dead. Just a couple of hours after we passed you in the hall. They said they don’t know how, but she managed to choke herself to death with her own pants.” He leaned forward, his eyes dark and his voice shaky. “That shouldn’t be possible. Like, you can hang yourself and shit, but I’ve always heard you can’t actually choke yourself or hit yourself or like whatever yourself to death. You’d black out first and your body’s basic instincts to survive would kick in before you could finish the job.” Licking his lips, he sat back again as he looked toward the door. “Look, I could get fired for talking about her stuff, dead or not. Please don’t tell anybody what I told you, okay? I’ll talk to the Doc and see if we can get you out sooner.” He stood up as he gave me a nervous smile. “I’ll check on you again soon. Just try to relax and not freak yourself out, okay?”
I was barely listening to him anymore, and when I gave him a slight nod, he seemed satisfied enough to make a hasty retreat. I was in the hospital two more days after that, but I did as Jackie suggested. I cooperated and kept my crazy theories to myself. Told them I didn’t know what had happened but I was happy to do whatever they recommended. The day I was released from the hospital I got notice I was on administrative leave for two weeks so I could “recover and recuperate”, which I assumed meant I was being kept home while they looked for a palatable reason to fire me.
That was okay. I didn’t really care anymore. If I didn’t figure out what was going on soon, the only ones benefiting from me having a job were the ones getting the life insurance money. Then again, I don’t think they even pay on a suicide.
As soon as Jackie dropped me off at home and pulled away, I immediately got in my car and started driving to the nearest electronics store. The car still stank from exhaust fumes and I could see little globs of adhesive where the hose had been taped to a crack in the driver’s side window. Fuck, how could any of this be happening? Who was doing this, and how?
That’s what the security camera I bought was going to help me find out.
My plan was simple. I was going to stay holed up in my room with the camera going the whole time. If something else weird happened, then assuming I could survive it, I should have some kind of proof. If nothing happened, then I could figure out if my next step was more cameras or going to a psychologist. I set it up that afternoon, and after getting some drinks and food stockpiled in the room, I locked the bedroom door and hid the key. I was pretty much limited to just the bed, the area around the bed, and the master bathroom. The camera was set up to see part of the bathroom too, but I was mainly concerned with how it all started. Either I was moving myself, or someone was moving me, and whichever it was, the camera should catch it.
I woke up a few hours later with the point of a kitchen knife less than an inch from my left eye. I froze at first, but then I realized I was holding the knife myself and flung it away with a yell. Shaking, I got up and checked the bedroom and bathroom. No one was there and there were no signs of anyone having gotten in either. That left the camera footage.
For three hours there’s nothing other than me watching television and then falling asleep. I move around a bit in my sleep, but nothing weird. Then, from somewhere out of frame, something falls onto the bed. Zooming in and replaying, I saw it was the knife. It’s like it just dropped from the ceiling or out of thin air. Barely able to breathe, I kept watching the video.
The knife slid across the bed toward my outstretched hand, and as I stared in horror, I saw my hand move and curl around the plastic knife handle. It looked wrong though, and not just because I was still clearly asleep. My hand and arm, even my fingers, were moving weird. Less like I picking up the knife and pointing it my face, but almost as though some invisible person or thing was lifting and manipulating me on their own.
That’s when I saw it—in the video, there was a subtle shift on the sheet next to me. The bed moved slightly as something unseen changed its position, maybe so it could get a better angle on pointing the knife at my face. A mixture of anger and fear flooded through me. I felt violated and terrified, but at least I had some proof. Something I could point to and show I wasn’t crazy.
“I see you motherfucker. I see you.”
Suddenly on the video, my hand stopped its slow trajectory toward my face. It dropped to my side before turning to carry the knife up above my head. There was a flurry of quick motions as the knife seemed to dig at the wall behind my pillows, and then it was drifting back to hover above my face until I woke up over forty minutes later.
Sitting my phone down from watching the video, I looked toward the wall behind my bed. Even with my pillows there, I thought I could see the edge of something scratched there. When I pulled them away, I found eight little words carved into the sheetrock in sharp, ragged strokes.
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