She woke up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. She quickly loosened her grip on the bed sheets as she slowly got a tighter grip onto reality. She tried moving her legs, but they wouldn't budge. She felt her body stiffen. Something held her down. She tried moving her legs again, but just as she was ready to open her mouth and scream, she heard a soft complaint come from her cat. She relaxed again. Her eyes roamed to the foot of the bed seeing an overweight orange blob of fur that lay on her knees. Oh, Dewey, whatever shall be done with you?

She lay back down again, trying hard to get comfortable but not to stir Dewey. Closing her eyes, she began to wonder. What had woken her up so quickly? A chill went up her spine, the hair on her neck standing on end.

Those eyes. Those empty, lifeless eyes.

No, she was sure those weren't eyes. More like empty black eye sockets with just white balls placed in them. Was that even a human's head those eyes belonged to? She couldn't remember. Her conscience wouldn't allow her. Her conscience seemed to only want to let her remember those chilling eyes.

She shivered underneath the covers. Why was it so cold? She had left the heater on seventy degrees. She thought of going downstairs for a cup of water, but when she glanced over at her clock, the bright red digits read 3:13. It was still the unholy hours of the night. There won't be a hint of sunlight in another hour or so. She could withstand the dryness in her throat. Even though her dry tongue stuck to the dry roof of her mouth, she could stand it. Water will come later, when the sun will be peeking through the windows, when you don't need to search frantically for a light switch so empty rooms will light up.

Drowsiness pulled heavily on her eyelids. She let it take over her, letting her knotted muscles relax. She allowed her thoughts to slide, to empty out her mind. Relaxation swept over her body, a content chill spreading through her, body warming underneath the sheets.

A noise.

Her eyes jerked open, muscles tensing. What was that? Was it just her imagination?

After some debating in her head, her small sense of courage won over. She sat up in bed, heart racing. Dewey took advantage of her disturbance and walked over to her. He started rubbing against her side, purring, begging for some affection and petting. Did he not hear that sudden noise? Of course not, it was just Dewey. Dewey was oblivious to everything. She wished Dewey would stop that rubbing.

Chills ran through her, the hair on her neck standing up on end again. She cautiously settled back under the bed sheets, careful not to make a sound. She pulled the covers over her head. Was she going crazy? Was the sound she had heard really was just Dewey making some noise?

Her body began shaking. It wasn't the cold, she was sure of it. She listened intently into the darkness, waiting for another noise. Waiting, she was. Waiting�

Again, there it was. She heard it again! This time around she was wide-awake to hear it. It sounded like - well, she wasn't sure what it sounded like. It was muffled.

What should she do? Should she just lay in bed and fall back to sleep? In the morning, it will be gone. Light debilitates evil that lurks in the dark.

Her door was open. Oh, God, why was it open? Well, of course it had to be open for Dewey, when he had middle of the night nature calls. But tonight, she remembered closing it before going to sleep.

Quickly, she jumped out of bed and ran to close her door. She slammed it shut, but she heard something softly hit against it. No, think nothing of it. Think nothing of it! But yet, she had to know. What was it?

She leaned against the door, pressing her body against it as if it would fly open. She let her eyes adjust to the darkness then searched for some sort of weapon. Her eyes landed on a wooden shelf lying on the floor. She just took it off her wall that morning, thinking that it wouldn't become of her use. At least it would be handy tonight.

With one hand on the board and one hand on the door handle, she counted to three in her head.

One�

She was breathing heavily. She tried breathing slower, tried not to breathe so loud. Whoever - or whatever - that was on the other side of the door, she was hoping it couldn't hear her the air going in and out of her lungs. Her eyes were still blurry from lack of sleep in the past week, and she prayed they wouldn't fail her vision now.

Two�

Her heart was beating against her chest. If it couldn't hear her breathing, then it sure could hear the beating of her heart. Or was the thing on the other side pounding against her door? No, the sound was coming from the fast beating of her heart. She had thought she had heard another beating, but it could have just been the pounding in her head. Her head was throbbing. She wished she could rub her temples. Take in a deep breath, and let it all go.

Three.

She swung the door open, slamming it against the wall. A shadow loomed over her, threatening to come and kill her. Her first instinct was to swing the shelf. She hit it, hitting it with all her strength. Instead of backing away and hurdling in pain, It swung around three times, then swung backwards again twice.

Oh, God. It was the eyes again. Those damned eyes! They seemed to hold her. She had the ability to look away, but she couldn't. Those dead, empty eyes were keeping her transfixed. They had the power to stiffen her body, to cause her skin to crawl, to make things seem as if things were pricking at her.

She finally had the nerve to look away. She looked down at the floor, seeing feet dangling over a dark, shiny puddle. With only a moment's hesitation, she figured it was blood. With a shriek, she grabbed for the door and slammed it shut.

She locked the door, leaning against it and sliding herself down to the floor. Her eyes stung, her head throbbed even more. There was no time to cry, no time to complain about a headache. Though she did wish she had her pills. Where were her pain relievers?

Dewey had finally woken up. He jumped off the bed and rubbed his body against her trembling legs. Had he not noticed the body that loomed in front of the open doorway? Could he not smell the blood that now permeated and was caked into the carpet? It took a large sum of her money to remodel her home, and to buy her soft white carpet. Does he not know how much money it will take to remove that horrible red stain out of the carpet?

And where was that annoying sobbing come from? Was it coming from her? She placed a hand over a side of her face and felt her cheek was wet. Yes, she was sobbing. Crying like a little girl.

She noticed Dewey was interested in something next to her. She reached up towards her left and flipped on the light switch. What was it, Dewey? What is it that you're interested in?

She saw him sniff it a little, then heard the familiar sound of him eating. She moved slightly to get a better view, and saw Dewey. She saw Dewey eating a blue, pale, bloody finger.

Does Dewey not know it was a finger he was eating? Of course not, it was just Dewey. Dewey was oblivious to everything. She wished Dewey would stop eating that finger.