The words came out like a shotgun blast from point-blank range. “How… how the hell do you know that?”
“She told me.”
Her jaw dropped, hung open while she tried to fit the pieces together. “Rosalyn? Rosalyn told you?”
His brow arched. “No, the other woman.”
“What other woman?” Tears streamed down her face. “Terry, you’re not making sense.”
“Ester Moore,” Terry said. “The woman Barry told you about. The one who was part of the coven with Rosalyn Jeffries back in the 60s.”
Pure confusion trapped her face. “How…”
Terry waved his hand in the air nonchalantly. “Barry called me earlier. Said he thought he’d worked you into a panic by telling you about Rosalyn’s past. But there’s no need to panic, babe. I’m here to help you. Here to help see you through these next difficult steps.”
“Don’t call me, babe.”
Terry reacted as if she’d backhanded him across the face. “Please, don’t act like—”
“You killed her. You killed Rosalyn Jeffries.”
“I had to. Don’t you understand? She was feeding you lies. She was trying to tear apart our family. Don’t you get it? She set us up! She was responsible for us going on Switch! Ester Moore wants to help us. She wants to help us get our son back. Isn’t that great?” The excitement in his voice brought shivers down her spine, perpetual coldness to her muscles. Her husband sounded manic, a prime candidate for the psychiatric hospital where Dr. Wilson had mentioned she should voluntarily commit herself. “Ester wants to help us get our son back from the Everywhere, where the dream goblin is keeping him. It’s a nasty thing that dream goblin, so Ester says. The damned thing attached itself to this house. It wants you, Angela. It wants to become you.”
“Terry…”
“But Ester says she can stop it. Give it what it wants.” His face turned still as stone. “A replacement.” His eyes drifted to her belly. “The… child growing inside you.”
“Terry, I can’t be pregnant.”
“Yes, you can. I’ve seen it. In my dreams.”
“Terry, we had sex three nights ago. It’s too early to tell.”
“It came to me in a dream,” he spoke, his jaw clenched. “I saw it. You’re pregnant.”
She recalled what Rosalyn had said and the warning label on the prescription. In truth, she felt pregnant, very pregnant, and, if she stayed still long enough, she swore she felt something swimming inside her, an unnatural flutter of some ungodly new life growing exponentially.
“Okay, Terry. Suppose I am. What then?”
“You carry it to term. You hand it over to Ester Moore. She retrieves our precious child from the Everywhere and gives him back. It’s a switch. Straight up.” His eyes leaked, slowly emitting tears. “This is the switch we need, baby. This is the switch we need.”
Her lips trembled. “I’m not pregnant, Terry. Please get that through your head. Right fucking now.”
He offered a phony smile; the one Terry usually displayed when he was pissed and not doing a great job of hiding it. “You’re right. Maybe I’m getting a little carried away.” He stood up and reached under the sink, grabbing the small box of home pregnancy tests. Turning to her, he held out the box, offering her the pick of the lot as if they were something desirable like lollipops. “Pee on one of these bad boys. Prove me right.”
“Terry, it’s too early, it won’t—”
He dropped the box on the floor, marched over to the tub, and gripped her by her hair. With one tug, he lifted her from her seat. Mindful that he could rip out a huge patch of her hair with little effort, she went with the momentum and hurled herself over the side, landing with her back on the tile. He yanked her to her knees, and, on all fours, she faced the scattered box of tests.
“You will piss on one of these,” he said, spittle spraying from his lips. His shadow sprawled over her and his breath brushed against her ear. “Or I swear to God, I will carve his name into your chest, setting a daily reminder of all that pain, all that guilt you can so easily throw away. Got it?”
“You’re insane,” she said in a tone barely above a breath.
“Say his name,” he demanded. “You vowed to never speak it again, but I want to hear you say it.”
“No.” Teardrops puddled on the tile before her, three at a time. “No, I will not.”
Her head suddenly jerked back. She felt hot pain on her neck, above her larynx. Scarlet droplets materialized before her, mixing with the fallen tears.
“You will say his name or I will open your throat right here and now.” Terry growled in her ear. She couldn’t believe how unhinged he’d become. Was he always like this? Capable of such psychotic actions? Or was this a slow-building end? Had Terry been slowly falling apart? Did she miss the warning signs because she was too wrapped up in her own shit? No, she didn’t think so. The man she married, the man she’d spent the last few days trying to help right the ship steering their marriage was very different from the man standing over her, threatening to end her life.
These creatures usually enjoy influencing someone close to you, the old woman had said.
“You’re not my husband,” she said, pinching her eyes shut. “You’re not Terry.”
“No?” He bit her ear, hard enough to leave behind deep, toothy pockets, but lacking the power to break the skin. “Who am I?”
“You’re the dream goblin.”
With this, Terry reared his head back and laughed. “You are something else, Angie. That woman got you all mixed up, didn’t she? Rosalyn. She turned us against each other, baby. She’s convinced you I’m evil. Well, I’m not evil. She was. I’m glad I killed her. Ester told me I had to, had to get her out of our way so we can proceed with the plan. The switch.” A soft, demonic giggle rose in Terry’s throat. “Rosalyn tried to interfere and she got what she deserved. Lesson learned. DO NOT INTERFERE.”
“You’re fucking nuts!”
A sharp pain shot through her neck, and, in that moment, she thought he’d begun sawing his way through her esophagus, working the blade deep into her vertebrae. She expected to see geysers of blood spurt forth, slicking the tile floor with scarlet, but no such image came forth. The pain was either a product of faulty nerves or her imagination conspiring against her. Seconds later, the pain ebbed and eventually faded. The red droplets had slowed to a stop.
“Dream goblins,” Terry said, chuckling. “We’ll teach ’em. Ester will show us the way.”
“Who… is… Ester?”
Terry squealed with delight. In a whisper, he told her, “Do not ask questions to which you already know the answer.”
Too tired to hold her position, Angela felt her arms give. She lowered herself onto the floor, laying flat, pressing her cheek against the cool tile. “Terry… don’t hurt me.”
“I am your husband. Your dearest, forgiving husband who has been patient with you, who has waited a long time for you to right all the wrong you caused our family. Who has been patiently waiting for you to snap out of it. God… you don’t know how hard it’s been on me. Every day I think about leaving you, Angela. Every goddamn day.” She was surprised to hear him sounding like her husband again, nothing manic about his voice whatsoever. Surprised… and terrified of what was coming out of his mouth. The truth, she thought. “I always thought that would be an easy way out. Just leave and I’ll never have to see him in your stupid fucking face again. My little [we do not speak his name], here and present, living through the image of his psychotic fucking mother.”