Chapter 2 - The NeedleI wanted to move.
“Dad, a man comes into your bedroom every night after you fall asleep.”
My hand froze around my coffee mug.
Across the kitchen table, Lily Carter kept coloring a purple horse as if she had just told me we were out of cereal.
“What did you say?”
She didn’t look up.
“A man comes in.”
The refrigerator hummed behind me.
Outside our suburban Chicago home, a school bus groaned to a stop at the corner.
My wife, Rachel, had already left for work.
Everything looked normal.
That was what terrified me.
“Lily,” I said carefully, “what man?”
She shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
“Have you seen his face?”
“Sometimes he wears a mask.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind of mask?”
“The blue doctor kind.”
I stared at her.
“Where is Mom when this happens?”
Lily finally looked at me.
Her expression made the room feel ten degrees colder.
“She’s there.”
“Awake?”
Lily chewed the end of her crayon.
“I think so.”
I sat down across from her.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“Mom said not to bother you when you’re sleeping.”
That answer did nothing to calm me.
“How many times have you seen him?”
“I don’t know. A lot.”
“How do you see him?”
“I wake up sometimes.”
Our bedroom was at the end of the upstairs hallway. Lily’s room was directly across from it. If our door was open, she could see almost everything from her bed.
“Does he touch anything?”
She nodded.
My heartbeat stumbled.
“What?”
“You.”
The word barely made a sound.
I felt something primitive wake inside me.
“How?”
“He does stuff with your arm.”
“My arm?”
“And your neck.”
I stood so quickly my chair scraped backward.
Lily flinched.
I immediately lowered my voice.
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
She watched me.
“Are you mad?”
“No.”
I was terrified.
But I wasn’t going to tell her that.
“What time does he come?”
“The clock says one-thirteen.”
I stared.
“You know exactly?”
“The red numbers on your clock.”
I had a digital alarm clock facing the doorway.
1:13 A.M.
Every night.
A man entered my bedroom wearing medical gloves and a surgical mask while my wife was apparently awake.
And I remembered none of it.
That was the worst part.
For the past two months, I had been exhausted.
Not normal exhaustion.
Some mornings I woke with headaches so violent I had to sit in the shower until they passed.
Twice, I had found tiny bruises near the inside of my elbow.
Rachel said I probably knocked myself against the nightstand.
I believed her.
Why wouldn’t I?
We had been married for eleven years.
We had a daughter.
A mortgage.
A dog that stole socks.
A life.
At least, I thought we did.
I drove Lily to school without mentioning it again.
Then I called my office and said I was sick.
At 9:26 A.M., I went to a hardware store.
I bought two small security cameras.
At 10:15, I installed one inside a bookshelf across from our bed.
The second went above the upstairs hallway.
I connected both to an app Rachel didn’t know about.
Then I sat in my car for twenty minutes asking myself whether I had lost my mind.
Maybe Lily dreamed it.
Children confused things.
Maybe Rachel had hired some kind of mobile medical service because I had been feeling unwell.
But why secretly?
Why at 1:13 every night?
And why couldn’t I remember?
When Rachel came home at six, she kissed me.
“How was your day?”
“Fine.”
“You look tired.”
“So do you.”
She smiled.
For the first time in eleven years, I studied my wife like a stranger.
Rachel was thirty-seven, elegant without trying, with dark brown hair and the steady confidence that had first attracted me to her.
She poured wine while making dinner.
I watched her.
“You want some?”
“No.”
She hesitated.
“You always have a glass on Fridays.”
“Headache.”
Something changed in her eyes.
Only for a second.
Then she smiled.
“I can make you tea.”
“No need.”
That night, I poured the tea she made down the bathroom sink when she wasn’t looking.
At ten forty-five, I climbed into bed.
Rachel read beside me.
At eleven twenty, I closed my eyes.
“You okay?” she whispered.
“Just tired.”
Her hand touched my forehead.
Then she kissed my cheek.
“Sleep.”
I slowed my breathing.
Minutes passed.
Then an hour.
Then another.
My body screamed at me to move.
My left foot went numb.
Rachel turned beside me twice.
At 12:58, she picked up her phone.
At 1:07, she quietly got out of bed.
I heard the faint click of the bedroom door.
My heart began pounding so violently I was sure she would hear it.
Then silence.
1:10.
1:11.
1:12.
At exactly 1:13 A.M., the doorknob turned.
Slowly.
The door opened three inches.
Then six.
A man stepped inside.
Dark scrubs.
Blue gloves.
Surgical mask.
Black medical case.
Rachel entered behind him.
May you like
And whispered four words that changed my life.
“Make sure he stays asleep.”
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