[ WP ] Something invisible lives in your home . You try to expose it without letting it know that you 're aware of its presence .

I cuddled myself inside my covers, eyes squinting in the blanket of the darkness. The house was quiet, except for the soft thuds of her footsteps as she stood beside my bed. Staring down at me as her large looming presence hovered above me. 
 
 
 
 `` I am going to tell you a story.'' She softly spoke. 
 
 
 I had no option but nod in agreement, as this had always been her bidding. 
 
 
 
 She loomed even closer. Her eyes a few inches above the faint breeze from the breathe of my nostrils. I looked into them as she spoke. 
 
 
 
 `` There was once a young girl name Stacy. She lived in Nantes, a well known city in France. Now Stacy was... different.'' She paused amid her sentence, musing on her next words. 
 
 
 
 `` Stacy was deaf. She lost the ability to hear during an unfortunate car crash on August 23rd 1976, that took away the life of her parents, her auditory abilities and ability of coherent speech plus the eye sight of her twin sister Elizabeth.'' 
 
 
 
 I pulled the covers up to my face, desperately trying to avoid the bizarre look of her eyes. If one was to describe the feeling they evoked, dread was flimsy. It was an unwordly experience. But cautiously, she pulled the cover back down with one of her arms, her eyes still lingered with mine. 
 
 
 
 `` As I was saying, after the crash the two twins survived. But their hearing and sight did n't. Neither did their bond. Stacy and Elizabeth were the closest two peas before the tragedy. Same clothing. Same dressing. Same everything. But after the accident. Something changed. Something dark infiltrated their lives. Especially for Elizabeth. She became hostile to any physical presense even her sister's. Nurses had to restrain her, as her violence sometimes got out of hand. Screams would tear the night as she was found choking Stacy, or pulling her braids, slapping and scratching her own blood. But Stacy was always the timid one. Soon they were separated from the same room and each placed in different sectors. But Stacy was never at peace.'' 
 
 
 She paused her story for a moment. Her eyes looking straight through mine into the depths of my soul. This had become habit of hers, emanating fear through the most subtle ways possible using her most frightening tool at hand, her eyes. All eight of them. 
 
 
 
 And it worked. It really did. 
 
 
 
 `` Stacy could n't sleep at night. Atleast thats what the attendants later said of her. She was handed a bell incase she had any urgency or distress. But every night that bell would ring. The nurse would wade through the hospital corridors and to her room. Only to find a young scrawny shild, scrunched up like a ball, knees held against her chest, doing all kinds of frantic sign gestures. Are n't you going to ask me what the gestures said?'' Her soft cadence spoke again. 
 
 
 
 I opened my mouth in response but nothing came out. Fear of the presence of this woman had shaken me to my inner core. My chords vibrated to release words but her sight, her mere sight shut them down. 
 
 
 She muttered some words beneath her breath at my reaction. Then paused. Then picked up the story again. 
 
 
 
 
 `` Little Stacy struggled with the signs, her body convulsing in violent sobs. But the nurses could n't understand her. Not her gestures, but the meaning of the words behind them. They didnt make any sense. So they soon reported the situation to the doctor in charge. So the doctor asked what was Stacy's nightly predicament. And the nurse replied, `` She said Elizabeth came to her room. Dragged her from her bed, onto the floor, and tried to drag her out of her room before she dissapeared.'' The doctor was shocked. As far as he was concerned, that was n't remotely possible. Not because of Elizabeth's blindness or disability.'' 
 
 
 
 She paused again. This time abit longer. I was almost hooked by the story at that point. Yes, i was still in fear, but my mind was reeling, intrigued on the motive and purpose of the story. Its ending. 
 
 
 She continued. Her soft voice picking up again. But this time, it dragged with abit sorrow, pain could resonate from her voice. 
 
 
 `` What did n't make sense to the nurse nor to the doctors about Stacy's story, was one tiny detail she seemed to have forgotten. Elizabeth had passed away more than a week ago. Her corpse was found laying still in her sheets. Stacy was never informed of her sister's departure. They did n't want to scar the little girl in her period of volatility. To make the long story short, Stacy was soon taken to a psychiatric ward. Night after night, her nurses still found her in the same fetal position. The same frantic gestures with the same message. Her cries and desperate pleas for help, up until the day she died in August 24th, 1997. `` 
 
 
 
 A thick gulp formed in my throat. My mind musing, stricken with despondency at the morbid ending. I watched her move, retreating backwards from the edge of my bed. Elongated legs, furry and scrawny, all eight of them, carry her excessive abdomen up against the wall as she scurried into the darkness. 
 
 
 
 She would be back. She always did.
