Him

When she closes her eyes, she feels him nearby. She knows it’s a him. But she doesn’t know how she knows. Maybe it’s the silhouette figure of a man that tells her it’s a he?

She was sixteen and a bridesmaid. Her duty - to watch over her cousin’s bride. A long day of negotiations. They were both tired. They were told they could sleep in the bedroom adjacent to the kitchen. It was hot and humid. They pulled the mosquito net over the bed. They soon fell into deep slumber.

She doesn’t recall when her senses began to tell her something was wrong. It felt as if she was watching herself, sleeping on the bed. Could this be her soul, the “dumb” soul which is tasked with watching the body? She started to sweat, and fear rose. She felt him walk. No, it seemed as though he glided towards the bed. She tried to shout – but no sound erupted from her mouth. She felt her body fighting, as she felt his weight press against her chest. It hurts. She couldn’t breathe. She pushed with all her strength. Her mind commanded her arms to push him away him, but her arms weren’t moving. She cried, but no one heard. No sound escaped her lips.

The bride’s arm suddenly moved and came to rest over her chest. And just as he had appeared, he vanished. She could now breathe a little easier, but her heart was racing madly. Her eyelids slowly opened to the sunlight, whose radiant rays peeked through the cracks of the wooden walls. Fully awake now, breathing hard, cold and sweaty, and scared still, she tried to comprehend what the hell had happened.

When she came home, she pulled her Mother to the bedroom – out of the earshots of her devout Catholic Father. Her Mother tried to console her, placing roughened hands on her shaking head and patted her gently. Caressing the long hair that reached her waist. Don’t be afraid, her Mother said, remember to pray, and everything will be alright.

But it wasn’t. No matter how hard, how often, how earnestly she prayed each night, he still came. Whenever she closed her eyes – to sleep, to nap, to rest, he came. Sometimes, though, if she slept close enough to her younger sister, he wouldn’t come, but many times he came. And every time, she felt him "sit" on her chest, and she could hardly breathe, move at all.

It’s all in your head, her Father scolded her. You need to pray more – and to really believe in God. Stop with these childish tales. And she dared not contradict her Father. She feared him even more than the spirit whose nightly visits, unwanted, kept her awake night after night – fighting him, screaming, and losing because no one can hear her – not even the sister who slept next to her.

He disappeared one day. And for that, she will always be grateful to her husband. Newlyweds, they slept alongside each other. As sleep descended, she felt him nearby. He came to the foot of their bed. Watching her. Watching her husband. She could see him and she knew, somehow, that he feared her husband. Unlike the many nights where he unhesitatingly came to her – he paused and took slight steps, as though he didn’t want to disturb her husband’s sleep. She was scared – as scared as all of the other times. She started to shake and tried to tell her sleeping self to wake up. But like before, she couldn’t. Her dumb spirit could only watch. He pressed down on her chest, as he always did. Again, she fought him as much as she could – and fearing another loss, she almost gave up. But suddenly, her husband’s arm reached over to hug her waist – and in that moment, his arm unknowingly hit the spirit who frightened her so. In that moment, he disappeared and she woke up. The warmth of her husbands arm, comfortable and safe.