“They seem to change, but they come when you try to go to sleep and they hide in the shadows – cling to the corners, closets, where it is dark. I don’t actually get a good look at them much, but they seem to just look like hideous people. The one I see the most is this guy covered in blood.”

The images started to come back to me just a little bit. Like the mismatched puzzle pieces of a night of blackout drinking might after weeks or months pass by. I could picture myself waking up in the middle of the night in my parents’ house, tiptoeing in the dark on the way to the bathroom, or Mandy’s room to seek shelter and seeing the shadows down the hall or behind the shower curtain or shaking the doors of my closet.

I suddenly felt as if the monsters were crawling all over the room. The childhood fear which paralyzed my every step once the sun went down started to come back. My panicked eyes scanned the room, looking for them. I saw none, but I felt them.

“If these things work in the dark, then why don’t you have any fucking lights on?” I asked.

“You try paying electricity bills when you can’t sleep and your piece of shit husband who had you stay at home for nearly ten years to watch his kids takes your kids and leaves you alone. They shut the power off.” Mandy finally seemed to show some energy when she spoke.

“Well, what are we going to do?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Mandy mumbled.

“Should we go to Barbara with the tapes?” I asked.

Mandy slowly nodded her head.