Sleep, Baby Sleep; What Are You Waiting For?

Jolted mid-dream, my eyes took time to adjust to the light. His figure was blurred, but the startling repetitive sounds had caused my heart to race as I tried to wrap my brain around what was happening. His cupped hands clapped together simultaneously as he called my name, over and over again with an even voice. The dog rushed to his side and jumped up in unknown excitement, barking at his actions, waiting for something to be thrown. I shielded my eyes from the light with my free hand, and propped myself up on the bed with the other. Still adjusting to the light above me, squinting through the fog of my blurred vision, I was genuinely concerned and confused as I asked him what was going on. 

He stood in the doorway, framed in the darkness of the hallway behind him. His clapping stopped and his hands came together in a prayer-like pose. He stared at me for a moment, still and calm. A sinister grin appeared on his face. “Nothing,” he said between his stretched lips, curled up just slightly, exposing his crooked grin. In one swift motion, he turned out the light and shut me back into our bedroom, emerged under the covers of our shared bed. The place I often found myself alone at night. I flopped my head back onto the pillow, mere darkness surrounding me as my eyes adjusted back to the night. Exhausted from going in circles and fighting over everything and nothing earlier in the evening, the smell of beer wafting from his every pore, I shut my eyes and immediately fell back into the same dream I had been ripped from... until what could have only been minutes later, I was once again startled by the door slamming open against the wall, lights above me blinding me as I shot up in bed. My ears rang with the noise of his hands clapping together, as he called my name over.. and over.. and over again. The dog barked even louder this time, hurdling himself onto the bed, jumping in eager anticipation of a pillow fight. 

“Please,” I had begged him. Confused. Disoriented. Alarmed. Blurry-eyed.  

“Please,” I asked again, “what do you want?”

And then that smile. Even through the fog of damaged eyes, I didn’t need to see his face clearly to know his expression. It scared me. I could feel his energy clawing at me from where he stood. A crooked grin pinned with two glossy, bloodshot eyes. His hand came together and stayed, but the sound of clapping still pounded in my head. He stood staring at me, as if admiring my confusion before repeated the same simple explanation, “nothing.” As his smile faded, he turned out the light and shut me back in. 

My blood curdled. I was scared, but I was also angry. I was tired. I wanted to scream and punch holes in the walls of the room. I felt myself screaming at the top of my lungs and clenching the sheets until my knuckles were white. Though in reality, I couldn’t move. I just stared through the darkness in the direction of the door, and waited. 

I couldn’t go to back to sleep. I was on edge, waiting for him to burst through the door again, screaming my name with the force of sirens. I had a meeting early the next morning and I knew what he was doing. I tried to pretend I didn’t, made excuses that he was drunk and just wanted to spend time with me. Told myself that this wasn’t the man I married, he was just drunk. And I had upset him early with... I don’t know... something I said? Or something I maybe did? Or maybe a look I gave him? But I had done something and he was reminding me. The constant sleep deprivation was only followed up by anger st my exhausted state throughout the waking hours. I was always tired and he took it as I sign that I would rather sleep than spend time with him. All I wanted to do was sleep. And he was right. 

The dog flopped down on the bed. I knew he felt it too. Something wasn’t right. It was nearly 3 in the morning and playtime ended just as abruptly as it started. He crawled his way up to my face and gave me a loving lick as if letting me know he would protect me and watch me while I slept. He was my only comfort nights like that, not knowing what to expect, or when. But that dog, that fucking fog of his that I had disliked in the beginning, became my protector. 

I had even seen him try to bite him once, a time when he was dangerously close to me, screaming at me about how selfish I was. And that dumb, annoying, sweet, angel-baby of a dog made me feel just the tiniest bit safer closing my eyes at night. I fucking loved that dog. And even that dog got ripped away from me in the end. Not because he could take better care, but because he wanted me to suffer. 

For some reason, he always wanted me to suffer.