Fred & Mary Read online

  Time froze within itself as he could feel whatever was at his door staring at him. Fred could not process what was worse; that he could not see what was at his door, that he wanted to see what was at his door, or how terrified he was that something was at his door. It also did not help that his mind became flooded with every first person real time cam or recorder ghost horror movie he had ever seen which had a sad ending for practically all of its victims ninety-nine percent of the time.

  Just as he began to recite the Lord’s Prayer in his mind in hopes of warding away evil, the footsteps began again, moving to his side of the bed.

  In his paralyzed state, he braced himself the best he could for the end, which was taking its time to get there.

  The footsteps this time for some reason were now slow, almost timid as if the entity approaching him was trying to creep up on him. It almost irritated him considering his compromised position.

  In his mind, he screamed, “Stop fucking around and get it over with already! Shit!”

  His perturbed demeanor disappeared as it now stood at the foot of his bed.

  The suspense was sure to murder him before the specter or demon in his room did as his heart was on the verge of bursting within his chest.

  As it moved closer, the first thing he thought he felt which caused his entire body to spasm involuntarily was claws. Lightly touching his foot, and slowly gliding up his right calf leg to his thigh. He felt everything through the thin layer of eight hundred thread count sheet covering him. It was toying with him, applying barely any pressure to cut him open, but just enough for him to come to terms with the fact that this was happening. Something was in the room with him.

  Finally, it was in front of him.

  He braced himself for the growling and heavy panting before it pummeled him into a bloody pulp, snapped his neck, or folded him into a lawn chair severing his spine.

  That was the best-case scenario considering that it could very well leave huge gaping claw marks within him so that he could agonizingly bleed out until someone found his body a day or two later.

  Making peace with his fate, he used the last bit of strained eye strength he had to get a final glimpse of the wraith now standing menacingly over him.

  Finally, he caught a glimpse.

  Boy shorts.

  Very familiar blue boy shorts that were attached to curvy synthetic hips and thighs that should not be able to move.

  A tiny part of him was not even surprised, more so disgusted, which he displayed by fluttering his eyes.

  “Just great,” he thought to himself. “Of all the ways to go out, I get the Bride of fucking Chucky package.”

  Fred still in control of his breathing exhaled, as he prepared for his throat to be slit or his skull to be caved in by the weighty lamp on his nightstand.

  Instead, he was assaulted by something far more horrifying.

  A clumsy backhand gently caressed the side of his face.

  Fred began to wheeze and cough heavily. He mentally prepared for everything but what was happening to him right now. He wanted to roll away or fall off the bed, but his frame was still not under his control.

  The sensual attack forced uncontrolled tears from his eyes, while all the hairs on his body stood on end as his muscles went into uncontrollable spasms again. His sanity was slowly slipping away from him as he could no longer comprehend what was happening to him.

  As quickly as the touching began, it ended as the room filled with the heavy wheezing sound of an anguished Fred attempting to catch his breath, while the presence in front of him strolled away.

  It did not wander too far as it took its time making its way from his side to her side of the bed.

  Fred’s wheezing came back a billion-fold, knowing full well what was coming next.

  His body convulsed as warm summer air came in underneath the bed sheet. A locked jawed Fred finally squeezed out a pathetic groan as he heard and felt the creaking of the bedsprings due to the weight being applied to it.

  He could not wipe his blinding tears, Fred continued to groan as it slid in behind him, and began to cuddle and spoon him. All he could do was whimper as he felt lips kissing the back of his neck, and a hand finding its way underneath his t-shirt caressing his abdomen and chest. It gave him one final kiss on the back of his neck before leaving its head buried within his back as it kept him ensnared within its’ lover’s embrace.

  Trapped within his prison, Fred screamed and wailed within his mind.

  “Why are you doing this to me? Why? Who are you?! Tell me! Who are you?!”

  An emotionally wrought Fred still unable to move finally surrendered to mental and physical fatigue as he slipped out of consciousness from the ordeal.

  CHAPTER 5

  Hours later, Fred awoke in excruciating pain due to panic muscle spasms inflicted onto himself from his torment early that morning. He did not bother to even look at his phone as he was sure it was late in the morning, possibly closer to noon. Although he once again had control of his body and appendages, he was too weak to move.

  Not even the feel of it still holding him was enough to pump adrenaline into his veins to fire him out of bed, which was the text book response to being felt up by an apparition in the middle of the night. Feebly he pulled its hand from underneath his shirt and took his time to roll over and face it.

  His first inclination was to either fling or boot it off the bed as hard as he could. Three factors prevented this from happening. One was that Fred still lacked the strength to kick or throw anything. The second factor was that one percent of his logic still reminded him how expensive the damn doll was. He could scratch any possible resale if he happened to damage it in a fit of violated rage. The final factor that stayed his hand as he gazed at it with hefty eyes was the fact that it appeared to be sleeping.

  Fred too worn out to be afraid pulled the doll closer to him using the side of his face and other senses to check for breath or a heartbeat.

  The fact that he found neither disturbed him.

  “Oh shit,” he muttered.

  Remembering that he was officially late for work, Fred rolled onto his back stretching out his free hand to grab his phone off the nightstand.

  With eyes halfway shut, he opened up his phone, went to his recent calls, and selected his assistant’s work number. He took a deep breath as he contemplated the fib he intended to tell her once she picked up.

  “Hey, Gwen.”

  “Are you alright?” Her voice came back with concern. “I got your e-mail this morning. Barney stopped by here twice looking for you.”

  “My e-mail?”

  “Yeah, you sent it at 6:30 this morning. It says you weren’t feeling well and would call in later.”

  He gave his bedmate a quick glance and then rolled his eyes.

  “I pulled my back last night,” Fred answered with a genuine moan while thinking on his feet.

  “What happened?”

  “Was trying to move my loveseat and I lifted wrong, took some pretty strong painkillers last night, and ended up oversleeping. I think I might head to the doctors in an hour, is anyone else of importance looking for me?”

  “No, Mr. Bronson is en route to his meeting in France. Are you still coming in for your one on ones and the staff meeting?”

  “No,” Fred mumbled. “Please clear my calendar and reschedule my one on ones, and get Matthew to cover the team meeting. Tell Barney I saw his calls and messages, and I’ll speak to him later. Unless it’s Bronson himself, take a message please.”

  “Got it,” she acknowledged. “Feel better.”

  “Thanks, Gwen.”

  With a slide of his thumb, he ended the call and tossed the phone back onto the nightstand. Still drunk from fatigue, he rolled back onto his side pulling the doll closer to him as he drifted back to the land of slumber.

  “Thirty more minutes …” Fred muttered to himself. “Thirty more minutes …then I’ll figure …this out.”

  Before he went comatose again, h
e was sure he felt it slide its leg over his leg, and pull itself closer to him burying its head in his chest. He was confident he felt a soft kiss on his left breast. He returned the sign of affection by kissing it on the forehead before his world went black again. Whatever was happening had to wait until he was more rested to deal with it.

  For now, it was not hostile.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  Several hours later Fred woke up from his slumber alone and fully rested. He was still a bit stiff, but the pain he felt earlier had subsided. He sat up on the bed leaning against the bed’s metal headboard.

  He picked up his phone to see a slew of text messages, and voicemails, mostly from Barney, and that it was almost eight in the evening. He let out a frustrated sigh. Even though he had slept the day away and got some much-needed rest, his sleep time was now off. The last thing he needed to become was a night owl.

  That had to wait as he read a text conversation he apparently had with Barney. One that he knew he did not write because he was in the land of sleep at the time. From what he read Barney who was both livid and concerned wrote that he was coming over to check on him. Fred, however, answered back reassuring him that he was fine and that he promised he would either call him later or see him tomorrow.

  It was then that Fred finally noticed that his bedmate was not in bed with him and that the lights were on in his bedroom, and the hallway. He also saw his house clothes were neatly laid out at the foot of his bed.

  Slowly he got out of bed and stretched to atrophy out of his muscles. The sound of rustling in the kitchen startled him a bit. He put on the long sleeve gray shirt and black sweat pants while noticing that the work clothes he threw down on the floor in a tantrum were no doubt in the clothes hamper where they were supposed to be.

  Fully clothed and awake, Fred began to pace his bedroom wondering what to do next. It was a toss-up between going outside, calling the police or a priest.

  He wasn’t afraid, but he wasn’t brave either, and the one thing he knew was whatever it was outside was not human, even if it used to be one. There was no way of knowing its intentions toward him.

  “Think man, think!” He thought to himself. “Barney …call Barney!”

  Before he could take a step to his phone, his ears picked up a sound that would cripple his heart.

  Sia’s “Fire Meet Gasoline” softly poured from the surround system and filled the apartment. It made Fred clutch his chest, it was the last song that they danced. Without thinking, he turned on his heel and ran out of the room as his mind took him back to that day.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  He was returning from an over four-hour business trip in Los Angeles and had endured the hell that was L.A. traffic and sweltering weather that soaked his clothes until they clung to his body like a miserably wet second skin. He came through the door searching for the relief of an ice-cold shower. The sound of music blaring through the door put him in an even fouler mood as he had to tolerate the constant droning of car horns for about an hour.

  Fumbling with his keys, he managed to get the door open, trudging through he prepared to use a voice several octaves over the music to politely ask her to turn it down.

  He never found his voice.

  It was silenced by the sight of her gliding barefooted across the room in his t-shirt that looked like it was swallowing her. The sunlight just amplified her beauty. Suddenly his clothes didn’t feel that sticky, his headache faded away. Kicking off his shoes he found his rhythm, the little that he had, and made his way over to her. She never broke character as he grabbed her waist and pulled her close to him. Instead, she raised her arms and grasped the back of his neck. With eyes still closed she fell into him matching his rhythm. Finally, she spun around on the tips of her toes wrapping her arms properly around his neck. She nuzzled his nose and pecked his lips into a deep kiss.

  “Welcome home.” She serenaded into his ear.

  ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜ ˜

  A broken-hearted Fred blinded with tears and drowned by memories of better times managed to find his way to the living room.

  She stood waiting for him, with her hands clasped behind her. Wearing the same t-shirt and shorts she had on that day. Muffling his cries, Fred had enough strength for one more step.

  He watched as she decided to close the gap. She kept her head down while her long brown curly locks covered her face. Her steps were slow, awkward, and creepy.

  “I want to say your name,” Fred got out. “I want to say it so badly …but I’m afraid …I’m so scared …it’s not you.”

  She stood before him and extended her finger writing softly on his chest. With each stroke of her finger, he wailed in agony.

  She wrote, “Welcome home.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Fred went to work the next morning eager to get home.

  Last night, not a word was said, nor any direct eye contact made.

  After holding each other for what felt like forever, she calmed him down wiping away his tears, sat him down at the dining room table and made him a simple turkey sandwich with chips, and a glass of water due to it being late.

  She then shuffled about the place tidying up, first closing up the oversize box the doll came in, and moving it closer to the foyer. It was hard for Fred to eat as everything she did brought salty tears to his eyes. Now and then she’d walk by to either rub his back or wipe his wet face. Fred powered through making sure he finished the sandwich she worked so hard to make him.

  She went on for about an hour and a half until she started taking off the lights in the apartment, placed his plate and glass in the sink, and took his hand leading him back to their bedroom.

  She undressed him, and then she undressed.

  Fred sat on the bed and watched as she went into her dresser drawer and pulled out her yellow bunny print pajama set putting it on. There was a slight issue. She was not formerly top heavy, so she had to leave part of the top unbuttoned.

  She then went into his drawer handing him his plaid pajamas to put on.

  She made her way to her side of the bed and waited for him to make his way to his. They got in at the same time turning off the lights. She then reached over him grabbing the television remote from his nightstand turning on the flat screen mounted on the wall. She switched the channel to Pix 11 in the middle of Seinfeld.

  Tossing the remote on the bed, she touched the side of his face pecking him on the lips before settling in. They silently snuggled with one another watching the back to back episodes and then Friends until Fred fell asleep.

  The next morning, he woke up to the alarm on his phone going off, and his chest being gently kissed and rubbed. Before it went from sensual to sexual, she stopped placing his phone on his chest and then rolled out of bed leaving him flustered with morning wood. Before he could ask what had just happened, his phone buzzed. Still waking up, he picked it up squinting to read the message.

  “You have to go to work, I’ll make your lunch and breakfast.”

  “But I was going to call in,” Fred said while sitting up on the bed with infant's eyes.

  His phone buzzed again with another message.

  “You can’t call out twice with the Shiro account on the line. I will be here when you get back. We can talk then.”

  “Okay,” Fred answered with a cracked voice.

  The cracked voice was an omen to him bawling hysterically.

  In his hysteria, he did not realize that his outburst startled her.

  As Fred rocked and blubbered where he sat, she hurried over to him. He grabbed her around her waist gripping onto her pajama top for dear life as she rubbed his back to calm him down.

  “Don’t leave me again!” He wailed. “Please …don’t leave me again.”

  With soft peppered kisses on his face and lips,
she got him to calm himself. She promised to be there when he returned home, so with some reluctance, he agreed to go to work.

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  Sure, enough as he entered the office, he was battered by questions, mostly by Barney who sat in his office giving him a full-on interrogation.

  “So …you threw your back out …moving your sofa?”

  “Yeah,” Fred nodded while shifting in his seat. “Actually, it was the loveseat.”